Watch Dog
I can't help staring. At my boy. At my poodle boy. What a day we had yesterday. I was reading the paper when crash, bang, smash, crash, bang. What was that?!! I run to the other end of the house to find my Hershey limping. I think, fool dog -- must have fallen off the bed. I call him to me to see how bad his limp is. He looks at me, stumbles and walks into the wall. I call him again. Again he stumbles and smashes face first into the wall. Holy crap. What in the world is going on?!!
It doesn't seem good. I immediately run to the phone. I dial. The number is busy! Redial! Busy! Run to the bedroom with the phone. Redial! Busy! Start tearing off the night clothes. Redial! Busy! Crap! Talk to the dog. "It's okay, Hershey. It's going to be okay." Redial! It's ringing! "Animal Services." I explain what's going on. "Bring him right in," she says. Get dressed all the while talking to the dog. "We're going for a ride." No response. Put the leash on and get the dog to follow me. He's walking a little straighter now. "C'mon. Hop in," I tell him when we get to the car. He loves going for rides. He climbs, ever so slowly, up on to the seat.
I start to drive. I start to cry. Something is definitely not right. This is bad. I talk to the dog the entire ride. Just before we get arrive at the vet's office, he sticks his shiny nose right into my right ear. "Hey, buddy. How are you doing?" He looks at me like I'm crazy. At the vet, he hops right out of the car. What?!!! I bring him inside where he behaves admirably. The vet asks me to have him walk across the floor several times. She then examines him while I explain what an idiot I feel like because "obviously, he's fine now." She gives me a pathetic "she doesn't get this" sort of look and says, "I'm pretty sure he had a seizure. You described the classic symptoms perfectly." Oh, no. She goes on to explain. She takes some of his blood. Then she tells me that for right now all I can do is wait and watch him. That he might never have another seizure again. That I should watch him. That poodles are prone to seizures. That I should wait and watch him. That it could be the first of many. That I just need to watch him. That she won't prescribe medication unless he has more than one seizure per month. That all I can do is watch him.
It doesn't seem good. I immediately run to the phone. I dial. The number is busy! Redial! Busy! Run to the bedroom with the phone. Redial! Busy! Start tearing off the night clothes. Redial! Busy! Crap! Talk to the dog. "It's okay, Hershey. It's going to be okay." Redial! It's ringing! "Animal Services." I explain what's going on. "Bring him right in," she says. Get dressed all the while talking to the dog. "We're going for a ride." No response. Put the leash on and get the dog to follow me. He's walking a little straighter now. "C'mon. Hop in," I tell him when we get to the car. He loves going for rides. He climbs, ever so slowly, up on to the seat.
I start to drive. I start to cry. Something is definitely not right. This is bad. I talk to the dog the entire ride. Just before we get arrive at the vet's office, he sticks his shiny nose right into my right ear. "Hey, buddy. How are you doing?" He looks at me like I'm crazy. At the vet, he hops right out of the car. What?!!! I bring him inside where he behaves admirably. The vet asks me to have him walk across the floor several times. She then examines him while I explain what an idiot I feel like because "obviously, he's fine now." She gives me a pathetic "she doesn't get this" sort of look and says, "I'm pretty sure he had a seizure. You described the classic symptoms perfectly." Oh, no. She goes on to explain. She takes some of his blood. Then she tells me that for right now all I can do is wait and watch him. That he might never have another seizure again. That I should watch him. That poodles are prone to seizures. That I should wait and watch him. That it could be the first of many. That I just need to watch him. That she won't prescribe medication unless he has more than one seizure per month. That all I can do is watch him.
So that's what I've been doing. Watching and waiting. And watching some more. Here he is. I guess he looks sort of tired, and considering he was just coiffed a few days ago he's looking pretty scraggly. But he's here. With me. Watching me watch him. Just watching.
posted by Elsie | 9:25 AM
3 Comments:
So sorry to hear about this. My thoughts will be with you and your buddy, hoping this is just an isolated one time occurrence.
Isn't it odd how we seem to panic even more when our pooches and kitties have ailments than when we or our children do. I've always thought it because we can't communicate with them on a level to ask and understand these things. They understand "treat" and "go in the car" and "no" (sometimes) and "go poop". But they have such a pitiful look when you say "Tell me what happened and where you hurt."
Keep on watching...
Oh bless him! And poor you too. What a horrid experience. I really hope Hershey doesn't have any more seizures. If only they could talk or maybe it's better not. Better that they don't understand except that you love and them and you'll be there for them.
Harvey sends a big woofy hello to Hershey and says, 'Make the most of it, lad - you'll get a few extra treats out of this if you play it right.'
I send hugs to both of you.
Thank you Winston and Liz. Hershey was quiet for the rest of yesterday (this happened at about 9:30 a.m., and we were home from the vet by 11:00 -- short not sweet), but no further problems. Today he's his regular old self, or so it seems.
It's strange that I didn't even know that dogs have seizures, and today two people have told me of dogs they know who have them and are living pretty regular lives.
The vet told me to keep an eye on him yesterday, but now it's supposed to be back to normal, so I'm trying not to watch him so much. It's pretty hard. Thankfully he loves following me around!
Thanks for the hugs, Liz. Virtual ones are almost as good as the real thing. Hershey thanks you both, too.
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