Oh Wow! I made it to my second posting. This is more intended to check out my new blog page to see if I like it. If if it pleases my eye, I think I’ll go live with it. Let’s see how it goes.
I was out of bed at 3:10, this morning, with Seth. Seth is my 2 1/2 yr. old Vizsla. He sleeps on the bed with me. He has epilepsy. His seizures are happening about every 3 weeks +/- a few days. Yesterday was the 3 week mark. He didn’t have a seizure but he was acting strangely when we went to bed. Since every day is so different with him anyway, a possible seizure crossed my mind but I let it ride.
At 3:10, he got down off the bed—he doesn’t do that—and that’s what got me up. He was acting so sweet, gentle, and needy, I decided to go ahead and give him a diazepam. Doc Holly, his vet, prescribed this for him should I think a seizure is in the near future [I have yet to be able to identify any specific trigger for one. But he’s never had a seizure after swallowing one…soooo]. Seth feels the effects of a diazepam quickly, so after a few minutes we are back in bed and he’s sound asleep—I’m not. I worry about him.
Seth is my sole companion. I have few friends. Many acquaintances. But not friends. [Perhaps, in a later post I’ll explain my focused viewpoint on “friendship”.] I recently lost my best friend, ever, and I’m still working my way through the grieving process. I worry that I’m going to lose Seth. And I worry that he might lose me, first. There’s no one who will take him in and care for him should I go first. And, it will be terribly hard on me, should he go first. I’d really feel alone, then. But truly, I’m never really alone and I know that. But alone from the comfort that comes with touching a warm, breathing body, or the look you get from another pair of eyes. That kind of alone. Yeah…
Just some thoughts put down for a #2 post,
Carl Ray