I dropped to the floor, wrapped him tightly in my arms and began stroking his chest and head so he felt secure. He responded, as he always does, by pressing his head against my chest. I called out to my wife for a towel because the little guy loses bowel and bladder control during these episodes. After wrapping him in a towel, his anxiety level seems to drop and his body begins to relax. It only takes about two to three minutes for his rock hard muscles to return to normal and for him to “let down” from the crisis. Then, he throws up and falls into a deep sleep for an hour or so. It’s really tough on the little guy, but two hours later, he’s perfectly normal again. I can’t even get help from the vet because she just points out how “healthy” he looks an hour after the terrible seizure.
Today, I’m back writing. Zack and Dink are snuggled together in one doggy bed, spooning to stay warm. My poor wife was exhausted after the early morning emergency because she could not get back to sleep. She went to work short on rest. As for Zack, he’s just fine . . . but I’m not. The crisis got me to thinking how much I really love that stupid little critter. I know other men who have similar affection for their dogs, especially my friends with hunting dogs. Their animals become more than property. They become friends. Zack has grown on me.