Hi there!  I'm Louise Akwekon, but my nickname is Weezie or Weezer, depending upon who you talk to.  I am the senior hedgehog at The Flash and Thelma Memorial Hedgehog Rescue, which means that I have been here longer than anyone else, even before there was a rescue, really.  I arrived on November 15, 1997 and was greeted here by my two dear friends that have now passed over the Rainbow Bridge, Flash and Thelma.  As the senior hedgehog at the rescue, I get to greet new visitors to our website through my photograph on the home page and I get the serious duty of maintaining the memorial, which is what this page is all about. 

    You may have noticed as you browse these pages, that every hedgehog in this rescue has the same last name - Akwekon.  That is done for a purpose.  It makes our names unique and traceable to this home.  We are all registered hedgehogs with the International Hedgehog Registry and we all get to keep our first names upon arrival, unless the name is either "Sonic" (the hedgehog equivalent of "Smith") or Spike (the hedgehog equivalent of "Jones").  In those cases our names are slightly changed to a traditional African tribal language version of "sonic" (sound) or "spike".  After all, we are all African hedgehogs, kidnapped from our homeland and brought to North America, as our human relatives were over a hundred years ago.  The name Akwekon is a Mohawk Native American name, which is the Native language of the human that serves us here at the rescue.  The word means "everyone, all of us."  Symbolically, the word means that we are all relatives, all living things, and we should treat each other as dear relatives. 

    I am Registered Hedgehog number 930 and although I am considered the senior hedgehog at the rescue by virtue of having been here the longest time, I am far from the oldest hedgehog here, since I arrived as a youngster, being born on September 15, 1997.  I was at a pet shop for sale, but people who purchased me kept bringing me back because they claimed I was "too wild."  After all, I am a runner and I pooped where I pleased, and slept in strange places.  The people who bought me demanded their money back and the pet store was getting tired of me and talked about something called 'euthanasia'.  I do not think I like the sound of that.  Anyway, this guy Standing Bear bought me at a 'discount price' and took me home to meet Flash and Thelma.  I've had a ball ever since.  Last year, about October (1998) I started bleeding and my caretaker noticed this right away and took me to Dr. Dressen, our veterinarian.  After a lot of tests, I was operated upon and a large uterine tumor was found.  It was an adenocarcinoma (cancer).  It was removed in time and now, well over a year later I am cancer free but have put on a few grams.  Entering the rescue as a youngster at 337 grams, I got into the 400s but after my hysterectomy went all the way up to 600 grams before dieting a little. 
Today I range around 490 grams, a respectable weight for a Brown Central African Hedgehog (Atelerix Albiventris).  I'm still an independent 'feminist' runner hedgehog, just a little slower than before.  I live with my dear friends Grumpy (now she's a trip, a genuine militant feminist) and Wumpling (the Great Retired Mom Hedgehog).  Our rescue has four hedgehogs that are sort of senior citizens, all four born in 1995.  Our oldest is Sonicker, born on May 15, 1995.  She is a very unusual long eared Hemiechinus hedgehog who is totally blind (cataracts).  Our next oldest is another cancer survivor, Roscoe, born in July, 1995.  Upon her entry into the rescue, Roscoe was operated upon and a very large tumor removed.  However, her tumor was a lymphoma and therefore the possibility of further cancer for Roscoe is very real.  But she's a fighter (not to mention a comedian).  Born in November, 1995, our grand hedgehog retired Mom Wumpling is a favorite to many because of her imposing size, which has
ranged upwards of 1,000 grams.  Finally, our dear second-senior hedgehog Rosie was born within a few days of Wumpling also in November of 1995.  Rosie, as second senior hedgehog at the rescue, moderates the main rescue information page.

   Now let me tell you a little about our dear departed founders: 

    We were soon bringing in new rescues, little Louise, unwanted in a pet shop, and Rosie, blinded in one eye in a breeding attempt and abused by middle school students as a 'mascot.'  We found that Thelma was the hedgehog version of a clinical psychologist.  She would emerge from her little house at dusk and make her rounds to visit the others, lapping them on the face and snuggling with them.  Rosie started following Thelma around and within a few days, the terrified little hedgehog (Rosie), always rolled up tight in a ball began to relax and would even permit humans to now pick her up. 

    For all of the rescues, Thelma had a calming effect and went about her work with quiet and dignified energy.  Once around hedgehogs for a while, like any other being, they are of markedly different personalities, and one can see those differences in their expressions.  Thelma was no different in that regard and one could see a depth of expression and understanding in her face that was astonishing. 

    When Flash died of liver disease in February, 1998, Thelma reacted very badly and, among other things, had a serious bacterial (clostridium) attack that veterinarians attributed to stress.  We brought Thelma around to breeders and pet shops in search of a new companion and we introduced her to some 20 hedgehogs until she met one that she immediately bonded with. 
The new hedgehog not only had an appearance similar to Flash, but we were soon to find out that she has similar mannerisms as well, and we named her Little Flash.  Soon after we got Little Flash, the veterinarian quarantined her for a month due to a suspected respiratory infection.  Both Thelma and Little Flash went into a depression, Thelma with another clostridium attack and Little Flash on a hunger strike.  They stayed best friends until Thelma died of old age (5 and 1/2 years) (kidney failure) on July 12, 1998.  Even near death Thelma left this world in a graceful state. 
As her health was failing and on the way to the Colorado State University small animal emergency department she continuously patted my hand and Little Flash's face with her front paw.  Little Flash was there with her until the end and did not go on a hunger strike after Thelma was gone.  Rosie, however, changed her typical behavior and searched for Thelma for several months after her passing. 

    We feel fortunate to have had this time with Thelma.  She taught us a great deal about kindness and goodness.  We have gravely missed her since she has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to join Flash and all of those Little Souls of kindness that have traveled on to a better place.

Butch was missing many of his teeth, possibly due to the fact that he had to get water from a water bottle for the first 3.5 years of his life.  Because he had ragged ears, we were concerned that he might have mites.  However, upon his initial examination he was found to be mite free.  What he did have is inoperable squamous cell carcinoma
(cancer) of the jaw. We had Butch on soft food and homeopathic medicine.  His tumors had not grown in the past four months and we were keeping our quills crossed.  Butch was a snowflake central African hedgehog, IHR number 2766.

Ever the friendly little hedgehog, Butch was an extrovert to human and hedgehog alike.  He would sing and serenade to both male and female hedgehogs.  Up until the very end, Butch maintained his cheerful and gentle attitude.  His severe weight changes in the final 24 hours caused me to believe that his end was approaching. I took
several photographs of Butch a little under three hours before he died by quietly going to sleep in my hands at 3AM.  The photographs tell a world of stories, especially the one on the scale that you see here.  His gaze with those big bottomless eyes he had
were truly remarkable.  Of all of the hedgehogs I have seen only four have had eyes that could penetrate so deeply, and of those four only one survives today.  The four are Thelma, Tommy, Butch, and Melanie. 

The kind thing to do was to order a necropsy for Butch so that his death may teach us about the living and to help them.  Butch's spirit has passed over the Rainbow Bridge and so he did not need his body any longer.  Although his squamous cell carcinoma in his mouth seemed under control, he had other cancer internally of some long standing.  Butch died of cancer but will ever be remembered as the picture of optimistic courage and good will.  We were glad to have been allowed this time with him.