Monday, April 6, 2015

Well, Frick!

Last week was supposed to get better.  I wanted it to.  I hoped it would.  It wasn't supposed to end with my 7-month-old puppy dying.  But that's exactly what happened.

Friday morning, right before lunch, my husband called me to let me know that Rolo was sick.  He had thrown up several times and was being incredibly lethargic.  I called the vet to get him in, but they had no appointments, so they asked if I could drop him off and they would get to him when they could.  That worked for me.

It wasn't hard to tell the little guy was having a rough time.  I put him in his kennel and put him in the back of the Jeep.  The vet is about 10 minutes from my house, and while I was driving, I heard his claws scratching on the plastic of his kennel and wondered what he was doing.  When I got to the vet, I realized he was having a seizure.

I became hysterical.  I ran him inside, and they immediately took him to the back.  I grabbed my phone and called my husband to tell him what happened, but he could barely understand me.  I was freaking out.  I had sunk down to the floor and was holding onto the counter to keep from falling over.  The world around me was spinning out of control.

I don't handle emergency situations very well.  I have a tendency to go straight into panic mode.  I've done it with my boys, and this pushed me into it as well.  That's part of the reason I was so proud of myself for remaining calm when my youngest cut himself.  That wasn't a typical response.

After taking a few deep breaths, I was able to make myself comprehensible, but I was far from calm.  I took a seat on the bench and fretted.  What had happened?  Why did he have a seizure?

The vet was able to get him stabilized, but with how the long the seizure lasted and how long it took him to come out of it, they were worried.  I got to hold him for a little while after he was administered the medication, and he seemed better.  He definitely wasn't in as rough of shape as he had been when I picked him up.  While cradling him, he started twitching and they were worried he was overstimulated and might have another seizure, so he went back into his kennel.

He never had another seizure, but he never got better.  His eyes started twitching involuntarily, then Saturday morning, he passed.  The boys and I went to see him, and it tore all of us up.  He was only 7 months old.  What could have happened?

At the top of the vet's list was that he got into something, but we have no idea what.  I have kids, so it's not like I keep cleaning supplies laying around.  We wondered if he found something in the yard, but we didn't see anything.

It wasn't a secret that he was my favorite.  I doted on that dog.  I loved everything about him from his gigantic ears to his stubby little legs to his amazing personality.  As strange as it seems, I loved his smell--even when he stunk.

Whenever he was scared or unsure of himself, he would stand in between my legs, having me there to protect him.  When the alarm went off in the morning, he would jump at the side of the bed and whine until I got up.  He cuddled with me.  He was my boy.

I know he was just a dog.  I am fully aware that I didn't lose a child (thank goodness!), but he was my fur baby, and it hurts.  We had him for such a short amount of time, but he was my shadow, my buddy, my angel.  I miss him terribly.

I have started a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds so that I can have tests done on Rolo to figure out what happened.

While I'm aware I may not get answers, I have to try.  If he got into something, I need to know what it was and hopefully keep the other pets in our house safe and prevent others in the community that may be exposed to the same thing from getting hurt.  Anything you contribute helps, and I appreciate you helping me find answers.  Thank you.




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