About a year ago, my parents went over to the local Humane Society so that my mom could get information on doing volunteer work there. While there, they met a dog who was scheduled to be put to sleep later that day. He had been found as a stray, adopted twice (by different people) and returned twice. Despite being a beautiful, friendly, energetic, intelligent dog, people didn't want him because he occasionally had seizures.
Hating to see such a wonderful animal euthanized for such a reason, and having experience with seizures since I had them all the time as a child, they adopted him right then.
He was a large dog, and a mutt. From what the Humane Society could tell, he was part Australian Shepard and part Labrador Retriever and approximately three or four years of age. He had thick, mahogany fur and bright gold eyes. He looked like a cross between a wolf and a bear, hence the name we picked. He had one of the most wonderful personalities I have seen in an animal. Regal and graceful one moment, floppy and silly the next. He didn't just enjoy life, he reveled in it.
Yesterday evening, Bear passed away.
As I mentioned above, Bear had seizures on a semi-regular basis. It almost always happened at about 11:30 at night, and usually about every four weeks. He would go into convulsions, lose bladder control, foam at the mouth, and bark for about two to five minutes. Afterwards, he would be wobbly and disorientated for a while, but he was always back to normal the next day. He was on medication for the seizures, but still they came.
My parents always woke up because he slept in the room with them. Their bedroom is directly above mine, and I am a light sleeper, so I would often wake up too. We would stay up with him, clean him up afterwards, and pet and comfort him until he was back to normal.
About five weeks ago, he had a seizure that lasted a bit longer than normal. He came out of it for a while, then went into a second one. We talked to the vet, but there wasn't much we could do beyond upping the dosage of his meds.
At about 3:00 am on Wednesday, Bear had another seizure. This one was bad. It went on for at least half of an hour. He sort of came out of it, but not fully. We could tell that he wasn't really aware of us or his surroundings. He stumbled out of the room and down the hall, my dad and I following him to see if he needed any help. He then fell onto his side and went into a second seizure. This one was quite frightening to watch: his limbs seized up and twitched, his lips were pulled back to bare his teeth, and he made strange choking noises while foam came out of his mouth. Then his legs started to flail, as if he was trying to run. Somehow, while still in the throes of the seizure, he got to his feet and started to hurl himself around the room. My dad had to tackle him and hold him down to keep him from doing damage to himself.
Eventually, he came back around. I went back down to my bedroom, as I had to be up early the next day. I wish I had known that that would be the last time I ever saw Bear.
Everyone was still asleep when I left the next morning, and when I came home, my mom told me that my dad was at the vet's office with Bear. Since the previous night's seizure had been so bad, they wanted to have the vet take a look at him. I had to leave for work before my dad came home, and when I got off that night, the first thing I asked upon arriving home was about Bear's health. Quietly, my mom told me that they had to have him put down.
See, the vet drew some blood for analyzing, and my dad took Bear back out into the waiting room while they waited for the results. Bear went into another seizure then and there. They gave him a shot of valium, but he wouldn't come out of it. My dad managed to get ahold of my mom, and she got out there as quickly as she could. In the end, the only thing they could do was have him put down.
They were both physically and emotionally drained by the time they got home with Bear's body, so they buried him before my sister and I got home. Usually, this is something we do as a family. I know it sounds morbid, but these are our family members. Just like we would all want to be together for the funeral of a (human) loved one, so we all like to be together to say good-bye to our animals.
I've lost animals before, so I know that the grief and tears are normal. What hurts so much about Bear's loss is that he is the first young animal we have lost. With all our other animals, they had lead long lives, and we knew that the end was approaching. We had time to adjust to the thought of their deaths and to make our good-byes. With Bear, we didn't have that.
Good-bye, Bear. We were only graced with your presence for a year, but you taught me a lot about love and life. I hope that someday I can be as happy and blissful in my sheer enjoyment of life as you were. I miss you terribly.
I'm sorry... I know how hard it is to lose a pet, though not in that kind of circumstances... But it's wonderful that you and your parents gave him one more year of happy life.
My parents dog also gets seizures, they confirmed she has epilepsy. I know the fear those seizures cause, my mom caused an military panic zooming past an guarded Army post to get to the vet. Beloved pets make you do crazy things.
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piasharn
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Date: 2005-09-17 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:02 pm (UTC)I'm sorry... I know how hard it is to lose a pet, though not in that kind of circumstances...
But it's wonderful that you and your parents gave him one more year of happy life.
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Date: 2005-09-17 07:07 pm (UTC)My parents dog also gets seizures, they confirmed she has epilepsy. I know the fear those seizures cause, my mom caused an military panic zooming past an guarded Army post to get to the vet. Beloved pets make you do crazy things.
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Date: 2005-09-17 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-18 12:38 am (UTC)