Gabby hasn’t been doing well for the last week. We’ve mostly been trying to keep her comfortable.

Last night Eric went to feed her and she was totally nonresponsive. I fully expected her to leave us during the night. But she’s still hanging on. It’s only a matter of hours now.

We have her wrapped up in her favorite fleece blanket from our bed. She’s warm and comfy.

We’ll soon be ferretless for the first time since 1992.

I’m typing with only my left hand.

I’m all right, but my right wrist is broken (yeah, I’m a righty). An idiot !#$@% cab driver blew a red light, and I more or less broadsided him (got his front passenger side). The cop says, despite the BS story the cabbie gave him, it wasn’t my fault — I had a green light and I’ve got witnesses to corroborate my version (and the diagram of the accident also shows that the cab driver was lying about where he was coming from). Eric is no help because he was reading and only looked up to see the cab in front of us just before impact.

The Lincoln is toast (I was going about 45 mph when I hit him — hard impact, air bags deployed, radiator damaged). But I’m glad I was driving a tank like that. Eric has a cracked rib and my wrist is broken. The worse news is that it’s a bad break and I need to have surgery so they can put in pins or plates — or both. I’ll be in a cast for four weeks after the surgery.

Today I’m sore all over from the crash. But I take some comfort in knowing mine was the worst injury (a total of 4 cars were involved) and that the behemoth Lincoln saved Eric and me from far worse injury.

I go for my surgical consult on Tuesday. I’ll try to keep you all posted.

Last night Gabby wasn’t feeling well at all. She’s getting to be a little old lady. She’s always been a bit of a hands-off ferret, more like a cat than a dog. She likes being near you on her terms. This makes it a little frustrating when you’re trying to comfort her and all it does is make her uncomfortable.

Eric went to give Gabby her nighttime baby food last night and she was like a wet noodle. We suspect it was some low blood sugar issue, though she wasn’t drooling. She was just floppy. She licked baby food off my finger and took some Nutri-Cal fairly happily. Then she curled up in one of the little heart-shaped sleep sacks we got from Fantasy Ferrets (Alicia Drakiotes).

This morning Gabby woke me when she climbed up on the bed. She must have felt well enough to climb up and walk on me. She dug around furiously by my feet and went to sleep. Just a few minutes ago, Eric gave her baby food again, which she lapped up on her own, licking the bowl clean.

I know Gabby can’t be with us much longer. I think I’m all right with that. She’s had a good life. She’s the only ferret we ever had who did not have surgery for one reason or another (tooth extraction aside). And she’s the last one.

I love ferrets. They’re exuberant and energetic, persistent and adorable. But I have to take a break. I need some time away from the sad part of having ferrets — losing them. They’re such shining stars that when they die, the world goes dark. I’m still not over losing Balthazar in 2001. Or Koosh in December of 2003. If I close my eyes and think of them, I can remember the feel of their fur. I can remember the sparkle in their eyes. The bond I had with each one.

Maybe what I need is time to grieve.