When I got home on Tuesday night, I checked my email. There was a note from Richard, who I haven't heard from in months. The subject line was simply, "Martin." And I knew.

"Oh no..." I said out loud.

"What is it?" Joe asked as I opened the email, still hoping I was wrong, but knowing I was right.

I read the words on my screen and started crying before I could even attempt to get the words out. "Martin... died," I somehow managed to say through my tears.

Joe stood up and walked over to me, offering me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up, wrapping his arms around me tight, just letting me cry on his shoulder. I hugged Joe back and just cried for a while... I felt a little better, so I sat back down, but soon, the tears started rolling again. "Oh hunnie, don't cry," Joe said. But I couldn't help it. Throughout the night, I kept thinking of Martin, about how much I missed him, and how much I have missed him all these years. About how he still feels like my ferret, and now, my little guy is gone.

I kept seeing him inside the carrier in my lap all those years ago as Mom and I drove back from Portland with him. I kept staring at his sweet face while he slept snuggled in his little ferret hammock, thinking, I can't believe it. I can't believe he's mine.

I felt so lucky. I was. I still am. I'm so happy I had him in my life. I'm so happy I had him and Dean for the time that I did. Dean's death was definitely hard, and now, Martin's is, too.

Both my ferrets are gone.

It's strange, too. I kept thinking Tuesday night that I just shouldn't be taking it so hard. I haven't seen Martin in five years, after all. He wasn't even my ferret anymore. Except that he was. And he always will be, in my heart. He and Dean were a big part of my life while I had them, and my love for them never changed, no matter what distance separated us, or how much time passed. Someone I knew once said, "Ferrets weasel their way into your heart, and you're never, ever the same." I believe that.

Misti and I talked about Martin for a little while today, too, and she made me feel much better. I'd been trying to tell myself it's okay to grieve and feel bad, but without success. A part of me still felt silly about it, until I talked to her this afternoon. I realized that I was definitely still hurting over this news when I couldn't even tell her about it without getting choked up. Anyway, she reminded me that situations like this are just hard, that it might take me a while to get over Martin's death, and that that's okay. Misti's awesome.

Martin lived a happy life, and had many people who loved him. His first owner in Portland, me and my family, and Richard and Debra. I'll always be so grateful that Richard could take my ferrets and give them a happy, loving home, when I knew I couldn't risk bringing them into California. I'm grateful for the pictures and emails I received over the years. I'm grateful Martin had so many other ferret friends to be with after Dean died. I'm grateful he was part of my life.

Martin brought joy into the hearts and lives of everyone who knew him. I'll always love him for that.

I'm just sad that his bright and beautiful little spirit is no longer a part of our world. I'll miss him dearly. I love you, Martin.

Martin, the day before he passed away