I expected to spend Tuesday morning running errands, starting with a visit to the veterinarian. Octavia wasn't looking too good over the weekend and we called first thing this morning for an appointment with our old vet, Dr. Wells in Tempe. This evening, Octavia died in her cage. I wish I knew more.

On Friday, she was up on my desk a number of times, trying to steal my dinner. I remember picking her up and putting her down and not noticing a thing wrong with her. Saturday, she crawled out from their hidey-hole under the dishwasher and looked so....I can't put my finger on it, but "normal" is definitely not the word. She hid again right away, before I could grab her. Later that evening, I saw that her bum was pretty nasty---she's always had a little "prolapsed rectum", which tends to make her messy---so I gave her a really good bath. She was so quiet and calm!

Now, Octavia and I have come to terms with her need for the occasional "bum bath", so we've got "an understanding". But this calmness went beyond her usual acceptance of necessity. And then her fur got fully soaked and I saw she was thin. Her pelvis bones were poking harshly. I could feel her spine, her ribs. When did this happen? Am I reacting more to how thin she looks 'cause she's wet or is she really, dangerously thin?

Randy agreed with me and we watched her on Sunday. Sunday afternoon, she needed another bum bath and was again docile. I felt she was dehydrated. We keep a bowl and a bottle in the cage and two bowls on the floor, plus the fountain urn they like to drink from. No shortage of water, so what's going on? I noticed she was grinding her teeth some too. That was too reminiscent of Maya's poor health prior to her death.

This afternoon, I saw her run from my closet to another spot in my room and there was spunk in that run. I thought she might be doing better and had Nicky bring her to me. She let me hold her. Closer inspection revealed severe dehydration. She lay in my arms, apparently asleep...but I could see she wasn't doing well.

In a moment alone with her, I spoke to her. "If you want us to fight, we'll fight for you. But if you want to let go, it's okay. You don't need to stay for us." There was no change. Later, I learned Randy told her the same thing around 7pm.

At 8:41, Nicky was putting another ferret in the cage and discovered Octavia was gone. She'd been gone long enough already for rigor to set in and her body was cold.

As I write this, we've already taken her little body to the crematorium we use. We'll get her ashes back in a week or so. And shortly, another rainbow will appear at the top of the page.

Good-bye, sweet little hellion-girl. Say hi to Max for me.