Popcorn… the Alpha Fuzzy

My Popcorn

My very first ferret was an unexpected act of charity. Before Popcorn, ferrets were an amusing but intimidating prospect. And I don’t think I would’ve gone out and purchased a ferret of my own back then. Even as a sleeping Popcorn was placed in my arms, I was uncertain.  Still, I agreed to take him in, silently reminding myself that my cousin could probably help me find a new home for him if it didn’t work out, since she works with animals.

Popcorn was found by one of my husband’s co-workers in an apartment complex parking lot. After no one came forward to claim the ferret, he was given to my husband, who had ferrets when he was younger. I, on the other hand, was completely new to the fuzzy experience. First thing I noticed was his slight musky odor. But as I studied the sleeping ferret in my arms, I couldn’t say no. He was so peaceful. A little too peaceful, actually. The guy that had taken him in didn’t know how to care for ferrets, and kept him in a cat carrier, feeding him cat food. He wasn’t allowed out of the carrier to play or stretch. So for the first few days with me, he was extremely lethargic, and would doze off while I played with him. But with a proper cage, hammock, good food, and freedom, he snapped out of it and began checking out his new home.

In no time at all I discovered that he was more than a ferret… he was an angel.

I tried at first to name him Falcor. While he wasn’t solid white, he was still a light color. But the name didn’t quite fit. One day as he was doing a little weasel wardance and dooking around the floor, I commented that his hopping reminded me of popcorn popping. And that was it. From then on he was my Popcorn.

Popcorn loved playing with plastic curlers in the shower.

I was smitten. Popcorn was a saint among ferrets. He was allowed to stay out of his cage all day and given free roam of my bedroom and bathroom – but nowhere else in the house because those were the only two rooms properly ferret-proofed. And while he was basically allowed to do whatever he pleased, he ONLY went potty in one of his litter boxes, he never chewed cords, never stole foods that were off-limits to him, and was the best sport when it came to my youngest child’s over-exuberant attentions. Popcorn never nipped, never bit, just played with all of us like we were family. We decided that he was such a good ferret, he deserved a reward. So we took him to the pet store and introduced him to his best friend, Beelzebub.

I’ll save BB’s story for his own post, but let me just say, when Popcorn decided at the pet store that he really needed to groom BB, that was when we knew we’d found the right playmate for him. And they got along so well that you would’ve thought they were litter mates. Knowing nothing at all about Popcorn’s past, we had no idea if he was an only ferret or used to cage mates. So it was a gamble buying a companion for him, but one that paid off big time.

Popcorn (left) and Beelzebub (right) in their favorite nap spot.

They were awesome together, having a blast wrestling and dancing and cuddling in their hammocks. I would let them out of the cage early in the morning, and they would play for several hours before hiding away for their midday nap… usually in the bottom drawer of my dresser. While they enjoyed their toys, they were more interested in wrestling and dancing. Or getting into the litter bag and strewing it all over the bathroom floor. I was constantly taking pictures of them in the midst of their antics. And every night I would grab one ferret, and my daughter would grab the other, and they would sleep curled up on our chests as we watched television together.

So, you’re probably wondering what happened. This is where the story gets really hard to write. And I tell you all this to show you how fragile a ferret’s life can be, despite how tough and fearless they behave. If nothing else, maybe you will see why it’s far better to be stricter with your fuzzies. Freedom can be wonderful, but for your ferret, it can also be deadly.

November 9, 2008. It was like any other day. I’d had Popcorn just over 8 months by that time. I let him and BB out of the cage that morning for their usual routine. I remember clearly that Popcorn was especially playful that day. He was dooking louder than ever, leaping on BB as they raced around the room. They’d get on the chair and wrestle in the seat until one of them would accidentally catapult to the floor. (Don’t worry, it was a very low chair.) Eventually they wore each other out, and snuck off to discreet napping locations.

There's nothing quiet as peaceful as sleeping ferrets.

That evening I had problems with the network router in my house, and had to go down to the desktop and troubleshoot it. Took forever to get it running properly again. So by the time I got back upstairs, I discovered that the ferrets had already been rounded up for the night and were soundly sleeping in the cage. I didn’t think twice about it.

Monday morning, the ferrets slept in. Not unusual for BB, who slept later than Popcorn, but very odd for my angel, who was usually waiting to be let out. I figured he was still tired from his hard play the day before. But as the morning neared toward noontime and BB was up and begging to get out, I noticed that Popcorn had not been up at all. I opened the cage and gave BB his ‘good morning’ cuddles, and waited for Popcorn to peek out. He didn’t. Then I noticed very soft squeaking noises were coming from the back corner of the cage.

When I looked in I saw that Popcorn was wide awake, big eyes fixed on me. But he wasn’t moving. Puzzled, I reached in and picked him up, giving him his usual snuggles before placing him on the floor. And as he headed towards his food and water bowls… he was limping.

Something was really wrong with my Popcorn. But I had no idea what it was. As I held him cradled in my arms, he stared at me with such an odd expression. I had made a vet appointment for the next afternoon, but I knew that wasn’t good enough. So I took the day off and changed the appointment to that afternoon instead.

“Popcorn will be home soon,” I promised BB as I placed Popcorn gently in his carrier. I was optimistic that it wasn’t a severe problem. By then I had found out that Popcorn had been curled up asleep in a shirt that was laying on the floor, and he’d been accidentally stepped on. It happened while I was fighting with the damn computer. He’d scampered off and was retrieved, placed in the safe confines of the cage. They didn’t do it intentionally, I knew that. It was the biggest quirk Popcorn had that I was wary of. I warned everyone to never step on anything laying on the floor, in the event that a fuzzy was sleeping inside it. I was careful to watch my steps, as was everyone that went into my room when I wasn’t in there. When I explained to the vet what had happened, they said it was most likely a bruised muscle, but we wanted to check him over anyway. I rushed him to the vet, leaving BB alone in the room without his buddy.

Saying goodbye to Popcorn was one of the most painful things I'd ever done.

They examined and x-rayed him. No breaks, the x-rays looked good. Seemed like he was just sore. The vet’s only concern was that his temperature was a little low (most likely from shock) and he was a little dehydrated. So they decided to keep him overnight, just to get him hydrated and his temp normalized. I could pick him up first thing in the morning after they looked him over.

Back home that night, I cuddled with BB and told him his brother would be home in the morning. I went to bed that night convinced and more than hopeful that I would be bringing Popcorn home in just a matter of hours.

Tuesday morning, November 11th. The vet calls with concerns. She noticed that Popcorn’s belly seemed a bit bloated. So she called in a sonagrapher to look him over that afternoon. “Whatever is needed,” I agreed. She would call me back that afternoon. But I was around the corner from my job that afternoon before she called.

“I’m afraid it’s not good,” she started. It was absolutely surreal. What the sonagrapher found was a tiny tear in Popcorn’s urinary tract. A rip caused most likely as he ran to get from underfoot. It was leaking toxins and fluids into his abdomen. That’s what caused his drop in temperature, his dehydration. That was why he had been laying in the cage, squeaking like a tiny mouse. That was why he had such a helpless look on his face as I held him. He was in horrible pain, and I’d had no idea he’d been injured. “It can’t be fixed,” she continued.

I was told that my baby needed to be put to sleep.

The next hour was a blur. I begged her not to do anything until I could get there. They kept him on an IV with pain meds as I gathered my kids and mom and headed to the vet. I left BB behind again… something that I really do regret now. And after I finally made the arrangements for Popcorn’s cremation and having his ashes returned to me, they brought him to see us. We were told to take all the time we needed. I think I sent them away at least a dozen times before we finally let them do it.

By that time, my mom and the boys had said their goodbyes. They gave him kisses and gentle hugs, and then went to the van to wait. It was just me and my daughter. We took turns holding him. I think we were both afraid to talk. Honestly, I don’t think I could. The only consolation was knowing that the pain killers were keeping him comfortable. They assured me he would simply drift to sleep. So finally after a difficult eternity, I agreed. I held Popcorn and gave him kisses as the vet administered the last meds. He fell asleep in my arms.

It’s not a pretty story. It’s hard as hell to think about, and even now, two and a half years later, I can’t without an enormous amount of tears. (My keyboard now looks like it was rained on…) I really don’t think I’ll ever get over it. Had Popcorn passed away from illness or old age, it would be painful, yes. But there is a sharper pain when the death is so tragic and unforseen. And I’m sorry if Popcorn’s story makes any of you sad. Really, any ferret’s passing will move me to tears, but sweet Popcorn… I hadn’t even had him a year. He wasn’t more than two or three years old. He should’ve had years ahead to enjoy with BB. Now his ashes sit on my headboard less than a foot from my pillow.

I hear all the time of owners who never cage their ferrets. I wanted to be that kind of owner. And I am not, by any means, careless or negligent with my fuzzies. So if this can happen to me, please take heed. It doesn’t take that much for a ferret to suffer irreparable injuries. They are curious, daring, fearless… and that’s a dangerous combination. Popcorn’s story isn’t even the most tragic out there. Trust me, when the time comes, it will be hard saying goodbye to your ferrets. So don’t let it be because of a freak accident. No matter how innocently it happens, the outcome is hard to live with.It’s not cruel to cage your fuzzies while they sleep. Now I let the fuzzies out to play, but once they start finding places to sleep, I’ll put them back in their cage. I consider it an ultimate act of mercy. That’s how I protect them… by making sure they are in a safe place where trouble cannot reach them.

I will remember Popcorn like this, happily snuggled up with BB.

A lot of people don’t understand how any pet owner can be so attached to their pets. Losing a pet can be just as painful as losing a family member… because they truly are family. I will forever mourn Popcorn. He was truly an angelic creature. And if it weren’t for him, I would not have so many wonderful ferrets to share my life with now. Thank you Popcorn. You were absolutely perfect and in my heart and mind, you will always be the alpha ferret. I will love you forever, my little baby. Oh, and BB dooks his love.

Okay. Now all of you, go and hug your ferrets. Be grateful that they’re with you. And never take them for granted.

Sincerely,

 Jezzy