My mom was the one who introduced me to ferrets. Before I ever met hers, I had researched these creatures and eventually adopted five of my own because of how she talked about these creatures. Then I finally got to meet Mousey and Fuskers, along with the ferrets of a friend of hers: Huskers and Weazey.
Mousey hasn't been doing so well since before I met him. Mom's vet told her that he needed a really expensive surgery---but the last time she listened to this vet, she lost Minky, whom I never had the honor of meeting. So, I took Mousey to my vet in Savannah, GA: Dr. Bink. He may have an odd name, but there's nothing wrong with this vet: he adores ferrets. It shows in how he handles them and treats them.
Dr. Bink diagnosed an enlarged spleen and the adrenal problems common in Marshall ferrets. Due to Mousey's advanced age, he didn't recommend surgery because Mousey's chances of surviving were lower. Instead he prescribed a medication (which I always give the wrong name, but I think was lysidrone). That was supposed to help reduce the swelling from all the enlargement which was making it difficult for Mousey to urinate. Thanks to Dr. Bink, Mousey perked up and seemed to do much better.
Still, veterinarians and doctors can only do so much. This morning, Mousey slipped into a coma in my Mom's arms and died. If you have ferrets, give them an extra hug or two today and think of Mousey crossing over the Rainbow bridge.
Mousey is on the right, with my first ferret-boy, Ukiah, on the left.
That's all for now.