Gray Angels

By Donna Fritz

Angels don't wear white or have wings; they're gray and they
glide.

Step into the magical world of sugar gliders...

Share the laughter and the tears in the adventures of the
gallant Lord Darcy, his cherished Lady Elva, and their miracle twins, the Pixie
Princess and Sir Daimon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 4, 2003
• ISBN: 9781410796370

Donna Fritz

Donna Fritz lives on a small lake in a cozy cottage with two opossums, two birds, one cat, and one five-foot king snake. She has state and USDA licenses for wildlife rehabilitation, possession for education, and falconry.

Book preview

Gray Angels

Written and illustrated

By

Donna Fritz

© 2003 by Donna Fritz. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted by any means,

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or

otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4107-9637-0 (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4107-9637-X (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4107-9636-1 (Paperback)

1stBooks - rev. 08/26/03

Contents

Darcy Finds a Home

The Vet

Pneumonia

Bees

The Arrival of Elva

The Ferret Hammock

Elva’s Choice

Duck, Duck, Goose

Saint of Steel

Heat

Off With Their Heads!

Heritable Traits

The First Visitor

Just Peachy

Trimming Nails

Jungle Gym

Elva’s Return

Supersize

Road Trip

New Tenants in the Cricket Tank

Pixie

Afterword

About the Author

For my beloved

LORD DARCY

With special thanks to:

Dad, because;

Lucille, for friendship far beyond the call of duty;

Dr. T, for various medical miracles;

Tom, for the exquisite Jungle Gym and

other glider goodies, and for being you;

Cindi, for the priceless Lady Elva, midnight talks,

and being such an insightful, wonderful friend;

Karin, for doting on Darcy, and for the many

lovingly crafted pouches and toys;

the gang at QPS, for their amused acceptance

of Darcy’s presence on my person;

and all of Darcy’s friends everywhere.

In fond memory of Jeff and Cosine—

we’ll mist the birds for you.

SITTING WITH A GLIDER IN THE EVENING

(For Lord Darcy)

Small gray angel in the night

Dropping to my shoulder, light;

He chitters quietly to greet,

And licks my nose, to my delight.

With dainty hands he takes a treat

And condescends a bite to eat,

Laughing with his big dark eyes,

The best companion I could meet.

Loving, cheerful, trusting, wise,

His heart and soul outshine his size.

Overwhelmed by joy, I weep;

With gentle tongue, my tears he dries.

In return for love so deep,

My heart I give into his keep,

And gladly play instead of sleep—

Gladly play instead of sleep.

Foreword

A sugar glider is a very small, very cute and very intelligent marsupial, native to Australia, more closely related to koalas and kangaroos than the North American flying squirrels they superficially resemble.

As with any exotic, their diet, housing and handling determine their health in captivity. An enclosure large enough to leap and glide in is of paramount importance, filled with toys and snug sleeping spots, safe from other animals and secure from stress. A sensible diet—approved by at least one veterinarian experienced with sugar gliders—must be prepared fresh every evening, and they can live fifteen years or more.

With such clever creatures, mental stimulation is a necessity; boredom can actually adversely affect their health. In addition, they are highly gregarious, requiring almost constant interaction with at least one other soul, be it another sugar glider or the human who has accepted the responsibility of providing for their needs. Deprived of companionship, they can become withdrawn, lethargic, and even die.

Despite their adorable appearance and small size, sugar gliders are not a good pet for children. They have needle-sharp claws and are capable of inflicting a painful bite if they feel threatened or annoyed.

However, if you have a great deal of patience, an entire room (or more) to devote to their habitat, and several hours every night to meet their emotional needs (insomnia is a plus, as they are nocturnal), a sugar glider can be a charming companion.

Image287.PNG

Darcy Finds a Home

It’s for you, her boss said, handing her the telephone.

Donna picked it up. Hello?

Hey, how is everything? It was her friend Jeff, whom she didn’t hear from very often.

Suspicious by nature, Donna wondered what he wanted. What’s up?

Would you want a sugar glider?

Does it bite? she countered, wary. The only sugar glider she had ever met was in a pet store a couple years back. It was cute, and she had seriously thought about buying it until she had tried to pick it up. It had instantly latched onto her finger savagely, chomp-chomp-chomp, leaving an impressive pool of blood on the white tile of the petshop floor. She had decided not to buy it, and noted that it went from $299 to $199 to $150 over the course of the next month, until it finally sold for ninety-nine dollars.

No, they say it doesn’t bite, Jeff answered, taking a little too long.

This glider, she discovered, had been bought for fifty dollars as a pet for a ten-year-old boy, the original owner having purchased it in Texas. How much does he want for it? she asked.

Nothing, he just wants it to have a good home, and I thought of you, Jeff said.

Remembering the last sugar glider, she reluctantly agreed to take it.

Two weeks went by and she almost forgot about the sugar glider, until Jeff called again. The kid agrees that the sugar glider needs a better home, he said. Do you want them to bring it to your house? They’re interested in seeing your other animals.

Driving long distances ranked pretty low on Donna’s list of favorite activities, so she readily agreed, and the next evening around seven o’clock, she got a call from the sugar glider’s owner.

Hey, you want us to bring it up tonight? His son had some school event fairly nearby.

Sure, she said, wondering how fast she could clean up that big bird cage in the shed.

They arrived, with a bucket full of stuff, including a book on Sugar Gliders, and a big wooden birdhouse with a plastic Pringles lid thumbtacked over the opening. The birdhouse fit inside the wire cage—barely—and the plastic lid was taken off.

She’s a female about three years old. Her name is Marcy, the guy said proudly. Marcy the marsupial, get it?

Pulling items from the bucket, they showed her how to mix Gatorade with yogurt and pour it into the bird-type feeder, which they said was all Marcy ate, plus four grapes a night.

No water? Donna asked in disbelief.

Nope, she gets all the moisture she needs from her food, the guy assured her.

Donna wondered how soon she could get them to leave, so she could put a bowl of water in the cage without offending them.

An inquisitive face peered timidly out, pink nose wet and sniffing, dark eyes wide with curiosity. Donna reached a finger toward her new pet, only to have the ex-owner stop her with, She bites if you put your finger near her face.

Okay, she said, withdrawing her hand in disappointment, thinking, I’ll get Jeff for this. Maybe we should let her get used to her new surroundings without crowding her.

They wanted to see the snakes and birds, so they quickly agreed.

The sugar glider poked his nose carefully out of the birdhouse. What strange scents! Was that a hawk he could smell?? He could hear his owners nearby, but knew from experience that they would ignore him. He would have liked another grape; he was thirsty, but he was used to that.

He carefully crept out of the birdhouse, one foot at a time. Instead of the fine wire screen he had been caged in, here he found bars, spaced just wide enough to slip through.

So he did.

Avoiding the dog crated beneath him and various other animals, he set about exploring this fascinating place.

He made it as far as the mantel over the fireplace, where he accidentally knocked a seashell onto the floor. The sound brought the small woman right to him.

The sugar glider just clung to the wooden mantel as she reached for him and picked him up. She held him—almost uncomfortably tightly—and he sat very still in her hands, enjoying the unaccustomed attention.

When he didn’t move, the woman relaxed her grip on him somewhat and started to pet him, marvelling at his soft fur. Then she kissed him on his bald spot, and the glider tested to see if she would let him climb around on her.

No, she didn’t trust him. She held him one-handedly against her warm body as she dumped some hamsters out of one cage and into another and cleaned the newly-emptied cage; then she put him in it on a bed of pine shavings, added the bottle of yogurt and Gatorade and some more grapes.

Occupied with the grapes, the glider didn’t try to get out as she placed a sturdy metal mesh lid on top and weighted it with a brick.

He heard when his old owners left, and understood that the small woman was his new owner. He accepted this philosophically, and hoped she might acknowledge his existence once in awhile. The short time she had held him while she prepared his new cage was the most attention anyone had given him in a long time.

It was pleasantly dim in this place, and as soon as the man and his son were gone, the woman brought him a dish of diced fruits and vegetables and—wonder of wonders, a bowl of water! The sugar glider drank his fill gratefully.

She watched him for awhile, then she left him alone.

Donna read the sugar glider book cover to cover, went back and read parts of it again, then (well after midnight) compared photos in the book with the sugar glider in her ten-gallon aquarium (which she now knew was way too small for a glider, but it would have to do for tonight.)

Yep, there was the distinctive diamond-shaped bald spot. Cautiously she opened the cage, half-expecting the occupant to attempt to leap out, but the glider just looked up at her expectantly, neither running away nor trying to bite as she reached in and cuddled the incredibly soft, warm creature in her hand. Gently she turned him over to look at his stomach. Yep, there was the furred pompom.

Female, my eye. You’re a boy, she said softly, and kissed him again. She held him against her cheek, and murmured, "Darcy. Lord