In Memorium: Seattle
Seattle (January 1997 to October 29, 1998)
Seattle was a little chocolate jill with a big grin and a bigger heart. We said she was "Clueless in Seattle," but she did have one clue: she had learned her name and would come proudly when we called.
We brought her home from a rescue shelter in November
1997
to be company for our first ferret, Ryoga. Seattle made
herself right at home . . . underneath the refrigerator, in
the dresser, in Ryoga's private sleeping space. Ryoga was
quite distressed at first; evidently bachelor ferrets aren't
accustomed to sharing sleeping space. But he got used to it.
We all did, and used phone books to ferret-proof the
refrigerator, and the OED to block off the dresser.
Seattle
was always exuberant. She and Ryoga rioted all over the
place. She was quite the little copycat at first, and
whatever Ryoga did, Seattle wanted to do also. Later, she
developed her own tricks and games and peccadilloes. She
danced excitedly if we dangled anything in her direction.
She loved to stick her nose down the bathtub drain and
snort; loved to climb to the top of the closet and throw
down all the shoe 
boxes
from the top shelf. From the first, Seattle had a passion
for plastic bags, and would steal them and run upstairs,
with the bag billowing behind her. These, and other
occasional items, were stashed carefully under our bed (and
she never seemed to mind that we promptly took them away
again). Her last big project was to take a canvas tote bag
upstairs and stuff it into her favorite dresser drawer; she
spent weeks at that.
In mid-October, 1998, Seattle was diagnosed with an enlarged spleen, which the vet said should be removed.I had said goodbye to her that morning; Larry, when he left her at the vet's. Seattle just crawled into her canvas bag and peeked out, looking miserable and abandoned. She survived the surgery itself, but died immediately afterward in recovery.
Seattle, we wish you could come home again.
When someone loves us very much, she goes on loving us always, and a little thing like death is not likely to get in the way.
Voyage of the Basset. James C.
Christensen.
The Greenwich Workshop, Inc, 1996.