acmespaceship

Skye Victoria Weezlgrrrl Ferret
2003(?) - June 21, 2010
Skye was known to be at least 2 years old in March, 2005 when she joined the firm of Golladay/Blake Communications and assumed the role of Professional Chaos Facilitator, a job she continued to perform until her death on Monday. Skye was surrounded by family and a cardboard box when the vet arrived with a syringe and finished a three-year battle with insulinoma.

Skye's private collection of Pilot Easy-Touch ballpoint pens (the ones with the soft bitey part), which she carefully housed inside the living room sofa springs and upholstery, at one time rivaled the collections of major European museums.

At the time of her death, she was assessed, repeatedly and by numerous observers, to be a Good Girl. Known as a great dancer in her youth, Skye maintained her hallmark cheerful demeanor, love of FerreTone, and hiding ability throughout her long life. A fearless explorer, she was hurling herself through the banister railing and down the stairwell long after cataracts had rendered her too blind to see where she was landing. Unusually small for an adult ferret, she made up for her size with intensity ... condensing down the essence of ferret into a small space rather like a black hole. Skye, perhaps coincidentally, considered herself immune to gravity.

Among her other duties, Skye accompanied her roommate from 8th grade through to the end of his freshman year at NIU. By virtue of heroic eating and a truly astounding dosage of Prednisone, she was able to welcome him home for summer break.

Skye is survived by three cats, who are, to be perfectly honest about it, relieved to know That Thing is gone and won't be chasing them around the house any more.

Skye's people, also being honest, won't miss administering four different medications, twice a day, every day. They won't miss mixing up special food and feeding her at least twice (sometimes 6 or 7) times a day. They won't miss cleaning up.

But they'll miss the ferret. In five years, Skye never bit anyone. Never failed to come when called (although it sometimes took a while to wake her up). Never escaped from a cage except to come running and find us to play with her ... because that was her motivation for escaping in the first place. Never missed her litter box until illness made it hard for her to control certain events. Never, until her final weekend, failed to eat voraciously so she could live another day. She danced until she could only run; ran until she could only walk. She loved music. Boxes. Piles of fabric. Nosing the strings of an ukulele. And us. I do believe so.

There are stories. A jingle bell stuck on a canine tooth. Visiting a nursing home. Car trips. Block parties. Waking her roommate in the middle of the night to play. Tearing across the house to get into the space between the wall and a Mason and Hamlin upright piano while her roommate practiced Scott Joplin rags. A ten pound bag of King Arthur white whole wheat flour.

Rest in peace, tiny Skyeweezl. I never knew a living soul with a sweeter temperament or a braver heart.