When it comes to man’s best friend and the ailments that can strike them down, you generally always hear about hip dysplasia and some sort of cancer. Maybe you’ll hear something about the kneecaps sliding out of place. You might even hear cataracts. However, no one ever talks about seizures. Seizures usually don’t often cross your mind as something that can afflict your lovely pooch. Unfortunately, dogs can suffer seizures. No matter the species, seizures are difficult to witness.
I have a very fluffy white fluffball of a dog. He is a calm and mellow pooch, and would rather lick your face off than bite your arm. He is eleven years old. His name is Rex and he’s a smooth coat cockapoo. Also, he is my first dog. He joined the family the day before Christmas in my fourth grade year. He was always a generally healthy dog. But, when he was just five years old, he suffered his first seizure.
It happened one evening when my mom and I were watching television when Rex walked into the room. I could see that he was walking stiffly, as if he was going to throw up, but without the prior dry heaving. Suddenly, when he had almost reached his favorite stool, his joints locked and he went down. We were next to him almost instantly. Somehow, I knew it was a seizure, and we couldn’t do anything about it, at least not in the moment. Our vet was contacted and we brought him in. We learned we could put him on a drug, but it would more than likely destroy his liver than slow the seizures. Our vet didn’t recommend it at the time. So, we didn’t do anything.
After that first seizure, I threw myself into researching canine seizures. I watched videos on YouTube to try and deduct what kind of seizure he experienced. I found my answer: a Petit Mal seizure. I watched countless videos of other dogs experiencing them and another video of a woman’s supposed way to stop the seizures in the midst of it, which seemed very ridiculous to me. All we could do was sit with him and watch the seizures happen as well as track them on a calendar.
I don’t remember how long the first seizure bout lasted. He probably had two seizures that first year. After that, they seemed to stop. I was relieved for those two blissful years that no seizure came to visit. I had almost forgetten about them. Unfortunately, they returned when Rex was around eight years old and haven’t left since. I was frustrated and angry when they came back, but, again, nothing could be done. All I did was keep track of them when I could and videoed a few for the vet to see.
Rex can usually tell when a seizure is about to hit. He isn’t some wonder dog that will come and paw at us to let us know. He generally likes to try to move somewhere secluded. Once, I found him hiding behind a table, trembling as if the bogeyman (or is it rather bogeydog?) was out to get him. One seizure I witnessed was past Christmas 2015. I was sitting in the kitchen on a wheeled desk chair with a wood burning project propped up on a chair in front of me. I was sitting very close to the plank of wood with almost no room between the two chairs. It was evening and I was home alone with the two dogs. Suddenly, Rex started acting as if he heard a far off noise or someone had come home. I started getting paranoid as I had not heard anything. After I had checked the entire house and outside, I settled back down to work on the wood burning. That’s when Rex decided to squeeze his way between the two chairs. I remember taking a picture for laughs later and readjusting to take another when I noticed he started to tremble as the beginnings of a seizure. I wheeled away and sat on the floor with him until it stopped.
Since the topics of seizures aren’t generally spoken about, most people assume they are the stereotypical thrashing around that is depicted on television. It isn’t true. Rex experiences Petit Mal seizures, which are less severe than the Grand Mal seizures that occur on television shows. When a seizure starts, Rex’s joints lock up, his breathing is almost inaudible and undetectable, he trembles as his paws flex and scrape his nails across the floor, and he drools puddles on the floor. To determine if he is still breathing, I usually hold my phone in front of his nose to create condensation. I run for paper towels to mop up the drool flood on the floor. I have learned to keep him down on the floor until the trembling has ceased, as he sometimes likes to get up before he is ready. After the seizure occurs, he is disorientated and commonly walks around until he settles back down to take a nap. Before his walk around, I use peanut butter to help determine how close he is to the end by letting him smell it and watching his reaction. After everything is over, usually around five or seven minutes (seizure and disorientated walk included), I mark it on a calendar. Through my notes on the calendars, I have watched the seizures increase in frequency from one every six months to at least one every month.
The most painful part about these seizures is that they are unpredictable and difficult to witness. Because I am not with him every day now, I don’t know if the seizures have progressed to Grand Mal or if they have increased in frequency. The fear of the unknown haunts me and I probably ask my mom how my furball is doing way too much on any given week. The one thing I do not want to receive during my years at college is the news no pet owner wants to hear.
