Ysabell was laid to rest tonight, under the oak tree in our backyard. Meabh got her a small stone slab and bird bath, and a plant to sit near her. She was buried in one of our old tshirts (lets face it, 90% of the ferret’s bedding consists of our old and sometimes not-so-old clothing), with her favorite red kong and a piece of cardboard she’d holepunched back when she was feeling better.
Meabh and pogle would like to thank everyone for their kind words. We’ve had phonecalls and text messages, emails and IMs, and posts here on the Chubby Ferret from friends, families, and web readers alike. We appreciate you visiting us and sharing our ferrets’ lives through our photos and videos, even through the rough times like these.
We took Ysabell to our ferret specialist on Tuesday, for a post-mortem examination to see if we could find out what it was that was afflicting her these past couple months. We’d had an ultrasound and bloodwork done previously, and there were several different possibilities. In the end, it was one of these issues, but one we could do precious little for. Here is the note we got from our vet (warning, science ahead):
Ysabell had a ruptured mass in her intestines, where the duodenum meets the jejunum. Given the appearance of the intestinal lymphatic tissue (nodular) and the abdominal lymph nodes (enlarged), I am guessing the mass was lymphoma. She had a large amount of fluid in her belly, which was a reaction to the leaked intestinal contents (septic peritonitis). This is an event that happens very rapidly and has a poor prognosis. Sure, we may have been able to surgically remove the mass, but if it was lymphoma then intestinal lymphoma has a poor prognosis and requires chemotherapy to have much of a chance after surgery…I sutured up her incision, curled her up inside a pad, and placed her back in her box with her shirt and toy…May she rest in peace.
In the end, the ‘nastydonotwanttotakethese’ meds helped her for a while, but the root problem was beyond solving. By the time her symptoms became pronounced, she was far too weak to have stood much of a chance at something as difficult as surgery followed by chemotherapy. We’re just thankful that we got the time that we did with her, and even when she was declining that we spent extra special time carrying her around, letting her see and smell things that she no longer had the energy to interact with on her own.
Once again thank you to everyone, and in the future we look forward to sharing more times with you all: happy (lots!), funny (beyond count), and sometimes, when all else fails, sad.
