Celebrating the life of a little dog.....who's big brown eyes sparkled with wisdom that surpassed my own. Bootsie is in Heaven, now...but her pawprint is still indelibly stamped upon my heart. This is Bootsie's story. A dog and her girl.
The following are links that relate directly to canine epilepsy and liver disease.
http://www.canine-epilepsy.com/Resources.html
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/canineliver-d/
More links to be added, as I find them or learn of them, so please check back from time to time.
I wanted to let you know about an excellent e-book that I have discovered online. It's called
"Hope For Healing: Liver Disease In Your Dog", and is written by Cyndi Smasal.
I have scoured the internet in search of such a book, only to come up emptyhanded. Until now, a book covering this subject has never been written. Most articles on canine liver disease seem to center upon the viral form of the illness, almost completely ignoring the type of liver disease that can be induced my meds.
If you or someone you know has a dog suffering from liver disease, please visit the website that I am providing below. From that site, you can read more about this books content, and how you can obtain a copy. If nothing else, for just an e-mailed request, you can obtain a link to download a free pre-release version of this book.
Please check it out. The info it contains is invaluable.
Here's the link:
http://www.hopeforhealing.com/
I'm worried about Bootsie. She has been seizure free for months and months, and I had done a good job convincing myself that the seizures she experienced all her life had somehow ceased to be. I was wrong.
In the past 3 weeks, Bootsie has had 3 seizures. The last one occurred last night at about 11:30. The prior 2 had been so mild that unless you know what it is, you may not even recognize them for what they are. Last nights was more severe. It began as Bootsie's seizures always do, with Bootsie bolting up to her paws and making a mad dash to get to me, her little legs crumbling beneath her, refusing to cooperate. I dropped what I was doing, (in this case, I think I was playing a game on Pogo), and I went straight to her, cradling her head in my hand and laying beside her. I always keep our faces very close to each other because Bootsie gets scared if she can't see me. I laid on the floor with her like this, talking her through it, and noticing that this seizure was more severe than the last. Her little muscles contracted painfully, her eyes took on a glazed look, and her brow furrowed as if in deep, worried concentration. By minute two, when the seizure had still retained a grip over my dog, I began to pray. These prayers are not the type that are beautifully spiritual and poetic in quality. They are more frantic words of pleading said in as much of a controlled tone as I can muster so as not to let Bootsie realize my mounting anxiety. I pray to God. I pray to St. Francis of Assissi, I pray to the entire Communion of Angels and Saints, begging them to help my Bootsie, I pray to God harder, and I beg my dad to beg God to help us.
Now into minute three, I grab my cell phone from where it lays abandoned on the sofa and hit the speed dial number to the emergency vet.
I never know what to do at moments such as these. When it comes to watching someone you love have a seizure, every second feels like an eternity. By three minutes, you begin to fear that there will be no end to it, and you begin asking yourself, "Is this the seizure that is going to do irreperable neurological damage? Is this the one that send me flying down the street with my dog seizing in my lap as I drive?"
Sometimes, the emergency vet cannot do much but say, "We're here, we're open, bring her in." And this is exactly what was told to me. Before I'd even disconnected from the call, though, thank God, Bootsie's seizure finally began to subside.
She laid there on the floor very still. Experience has shown me that Bootsie needs at least 10 minutes of "quiet time", where she can just lie still and recover a bit. I lay beside her throughout, because if I get up, she will try to get up also.
Boots somehow manages to give my face and hands kisses in the midst of these seizures. Her gratitude for my presence only increases once the seizure ends. I kind of gauge how long we should remain resting by the intensity with which she shows her affection to me!
It's the next morning now, and I am about to call her regular veterinarian and let her know what happened. I'm nervous. Bootsie already takes 1 1/2 tabs phenobarbitol two times a day. It's because of our having to medicate these seizures that she has liver disease in the first place. If this seizing continues, we will have to add potassium bromide to her cocktail of daily meds, and I am loathe to do it. The vet agreed with me last Friday, that we would assume a "wait and see" approach, only adding in the PB if it were absoltely necessary. Any extra chemical that enters my Bootsie's little body has to be processed by the liver, and most any chemical is going to be more taxing on her already compromised liver. It's a situation that I cannot win. I either give her the drugs that damage her liver to control these seizures, or I forego them, spare her liver, and risk the damage possible from unchecked seizing. What can I do??????
Some people may find it unusual to care about and love an animal as much as I love my Bootsie. I know that I cannot keep her forever. I also know how blessed I am that God brought her into my life. Trust me, I have thanked God every single day for this beautiful little present wrapped in fur. I think that it's by the Grace of God that Bootsie, given all her medical problems these past 6 years, is today 14.5 years old and in all, amazingly healthy despite the epilepsy and liver disease. I often reflect that there HAS to be a God, and he obviously knows how much I need Bootsie. Boots has been by my side through the worst times of my life. She knows exactly what my moods are, and she is a "mothering" little dog when I am upset.
I know that I cannot keep her here with me forever, and that a day is coming when I will have to let her go home to God, where she will wait for me, ever faithful to me on that celestial plane as she has been to me here on this imperfect earthly one. The very idea of it....going through a day without my Bootsie, it's one that I cannot think of without crying. I honestly do not know how I will deal with that. I am more bonded to my dog then to anyone I know or have known (besides my dad, who I lost to cancer in 1997). If I allow myself to think about a life without my Bootsie, I'm overtaken by feelings of utter loneliness and despair.
There are some people, my mom and Jason, in particular, who have been telling me from time to time that I will have to let her go someday. Do they think that I do not know this? Of course I know this. Normally I just nod my head in silent agreement and change the subject. Only this past month, their remarks have illicited a different reaction from me. I've noticed that the past few times they brought this up, I reacted explosively, almost violently. I told them to "just shut the hell up, and get away from me". I'm not sure why I am reacting this way...I know that they mean well. But I just do not want to hear it from them. Maybe because they could not possibly know what it feels like to love deeply and suffer the loss of that love. I honestly believe that.
Well, I just phoned the vet, Dr. Zakos. She is in the office today, for which I am SO THANKFUL!! She will be returning my call at the first chance she gets.
Bootsie goes to Diamond Veterinary Clinic, here in Everett. I am telling you, she has the very best doctors! I so completely trust their expertise. They truly go about their job of healing and keeping animals well because they LOVE animals. I couldn't take her someplace where that wasn't the case. Each of the vets and clinicians at this practice knows Bootsie well, and they all care about her. I am so thankful for them. They understand my deep feelings and concerns for Bootsie. Whenever Bootsie has required hospitalization, they have welcomed my phonecalls that come every 2 hours to ask how she is and what she is doing. Never once have they ever made me feel that I was a bother or an imposition on their time. And they have always made time for me, even in the midst of their most hectic and emergency-heavy days. I've never felt that I could not ask questions, even if it was the same question I've already asked. What a wonderful group of people they are, and I wish that all pet owners could enjoy such a relationship with their local vet clicnics.
I will let you know what happens after I hear from the doc. Right now, Bootsie has hopped up onto the sofa beside me for a nap, and I am going off to play Pogo.
Bye for now.
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