It seems Boo has her own seizure dog. After fourteen days, we’d grown more hopeful that she was a one and done sort of seizure patient. I wouldn’t say we were complacent, but every day without a seizure had become a small victory for all of us. Even Bandit had started to allow her out of his sight more often.
Then another grand mal seizure struck.
She’d just started going under, her mouth foaming, her back legs sliding on the hardwood in the hallway. She didn’t make any noise, other than the scrabbling of toenails on the floor.
Bandit reached her almost as quickly as I did, flying down the stairs and immediately doing his best to comfort her. The vet told us stimulation is ideal, and timing the seizure is important. So and tending Boo became a team effort, involving the whole family as well as the dogs and the bravest of our two cats.
Together, we waited out the seizure and when she was finally back, Bandit helped keep track of Boo the rest of the afternoon. Although when they went outside together, I had to remind him she needed more quiet rather than wild romping time. I think he was just excited she was up and sort of normal again.
It was harder to keep her quiet after this seizure, she paced the house, checking out every doors, window, and corner like a foster greyhound fresh from the track. Again, once he understood what I wanted, Bandit helped out. He helped corral her into our bedroom and flopped onto the bed, keeping her settled up there for about an hour.
All of us were grateful for his help. I think even Brody appreciated the whippersnapper stepping up, since he’s not really fond of pacing for any reason other than a walk these days.
Live the greyhound adventure!
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