Arthur was my 23rd birthday present .  In August of 2001, we adopted the most adorable butterscotch ferret, with a white mark on his chest, and white knees (he looked a lot like a light Merlin).  When he first came home, the other ferrets just sort of took him in stride, but Merlin decided to show him the ropes (hence Arthur's name...).  His favorite game, at first, was to hide in a small trash can (empty of course), and dart out to nip at my fingers, later, when I allowed him free roam, he'd sit and wait, until I sat on the floor to play with them, and he'd sneak-up on me (even though I could usually see him), bite at what ever part of me that was close, most of the time that was either my toes.... or my rear... and then he'd quick run and hide.... the entire play time was spent in these hit and run attacks :) . Another of his favorite games included him laying with his nose sticking out from under the sofa until I squiggled his nose, then he'd hide, and I would reach in after him, he'd wrap himself around my hand and wrestle with me (well my hand at any rate).  He got to be about 3 pounds, at 7 months, and if his paws were any indication, he would've gotten much bigger.  Unfortunately,  3 days  after new years Arty became ill.  At first, we thought he hurt his leg,  as he seemed to be favoring his back leg.  when I saw that he couldn't get up or down the ramps, we decided to take him into the vet.  At this point he was still very bright eyed, and he still wanted to play, but when he'd try, his back legs would give out, and bring any attempts to a halt.  The Vet checked him out thoroughly, and found what he thought to be a 'suspicious mass' in his stomach.  They did an x-ray, and put him on fluids, with antibiotics, for an hour or so.  The x-ray confirmed that there was a mass in his stomach, but the vet said it could've been anything from cloth, to food, to pretty much anything.  He gave me some medicine, and told me that if he didn't improve in a day or two, that the only other options were surgery (there was a 60% chance he wouldn't make it through the operation, due to the placement of the mass, and even less of a chance the he'd survive post-op), or euthanasia...  This next day Arty seemed a bit better, he was moving around a lot more, and seemed impatient when the other ferrets got to go play, and I kept him close to me, or in the cage.  He continued to vastly improve for several days.  Then suddenly, he went down hill.  and at this point, the vet could only recommend euthanasia.  Which I couldn't do... not again...I kept hoping..... He was eating ok, and drinking, I kept him clean, warm, and as comfortable as I could...but, on January 29th, 2002, I said goodbye to another fine, furry friend... this one not 10 months old...

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