I have two ferrets, Bonnie and Clyde. Bonnie has been my sweetheart for seven years now, and I’ll never forget the day I got her.
I saw a man who was mistreating this ferret horribly. After squealing and screeching, the ferret finally got away and made a mad dash into the woods. Very mad at the man, I took off into the woods to see if that little fellow was OK. It took me hours of searching, and right as I was about to give up, I saw her out the corner of my eye. I picked her up and she bit me, but I knew it wasn’t her fault — she was hurt and scared.
I took her to the vet and told them what had happened. They did X-rays and found she had three broken ribs and required surgery. Heartbroken tears filled my eyes, because I thought there was only one thing to do, but the kind man said he would help pay for surgery, for he had ferrets of his own; I knew then that everything would be OK.
Four hours later I watched as the little girl shut her eyes as she was prepared for surgery. As I waited outside, hours passed by. When I finally got to see her, they told me that because of her condition she only had a slight chance of making it.
Days and days passed by, each one longer than the first, waiting for my little girl to return to her normal self. Then a sparkle hit her eyes as she opened them. I stroked her fur time after time, talking to her saying, “It’s OK, girl. Momma’s got you. Ssh.” She gave off a tiny grin and went back to sleep.
From then on, she has been my little survivor, angel and gift from God. And that’s my story of my dear Bonnie.