Gonzo feels good today

Two weeks ago Gonzo wasn’t doing too well. He was lethargic and his poop was tarry (a sure sign of the slide downhill for little 2-pound cancer patients), plus he was starting to look really, really bad. He’s lost nearly all the hair on his tail, and so much on his torso that you can see his skin and bones. He also has a bald patch on his head.

We feared that our time with him was up, that we’d have to make the Decision within the next couple of weeks.

The plan was for me to take him to the vet early last week and, if his diagnosis was dire, we’d take him in to have him put to sleep today.

But while his diagnosis wasn’t great, it wasn’t dire enough to merit euthanasia. His crap had gotten back to normal, and, while the doctor said he’s lost 9 ounces since our last visit a few months ago (a big drop for a ferret), she said the tumor hasn’t gotten any bigger, and he still doesn’t seem to be in pain. He’s still eating, which is a good sign, but all those nutrients and the energy from them are being siphoned off by the growth.

She also said the hair loss makes her think that the cancer has spread to the adrenal glands. Which sucks.

She recommended we go back on the steroids. And I don’t know if it’s because of the drugs, or because he knows that today was going to be very different for him originally, or because he just happens to not feel like crap, but he’s been hamming it up all morning, letting me toss him on the couch and on the bed, hopping and slinging himself around and attacking pillows like they’re little innocent bunnies whose heads he instinctively wants to rip off.

Perhaps the most surprising of his antics today was when he clawed at the door to the big cage — the one that’s shut and blocked off because they don’t use it anymore since he hasn’t been able to get in and out of the hammocks very easily in several months (he’s bottom-heavy thanks to the huge cancer-ridden kidney) and it’s just easier to keep him and Felix in the smaller cage where no acrobatics are involved. I thought he was just being silly — clawing at the door to that cage is something he greatly enjoyed when he used to be clawing from inside, trying to get out. What kind of animal claws at a cage to try to get in?

So I opened the door. And he proceeded to very slowly and very carefully climb his way onto the platform and into a hammock. At which point he dug his claws into the hammock triumphantly to make his bed. And he laid there for a while, dozing, got bored, and climbed back down.

I haven’t seen that from him since spring.

So, here’s to a Gonzo, full of mischief, even while sick.

After becoming acquainted with the potted plants, circa 2001 or 2002.