Gator Dooley
? - May 13, 2000
Today's words aren't so much of a rant as they are an ode. Gator the ferret was given to me by a co-worker from a place I try to forget. It was several years ago, and at the time, ferrets were illegal in Massachusetts, and I risked my lease and some pretty hefty fines for me back when my salary was meager for what I had to do. Gator was happy, healthy and full of vigor. Over the years, he became a cherished companion, not only to myself, but also to my cats, the late Listo Germanicus, and Mathilde. Gator was several years old then.
It changed a little over a few weeks ago. I came home and found Gator listless and breathing heavy. A trip to the vet and some anti-biotic later, and Gator seemed okay. He was fine for a few days before he relapsed. He could not move his left, hind leg, and he had a heart-breaking twitch in his head, the prelude to a seizure. I knew the diagnosis before the vet told me. Gator had what appeared to be a stroke. Before he could suffer any longer, I had him put down.
Gator was a pet, but moreso, he was a friend. It's hard to shed tears when you haven't for so long. I will be sad for a while, but I will go on, and I know that I will see Gator again when my time comes to cross into that warm, eternal unknown.
