Might as well speak…

So.  Guess what I learned?

Did you know that dogs could have seizures?  I sure didn’t.  I mean, it makes sense that they can -- they’re mammals with all the right parts, give or take.  But medical knowledge and veterinary arts have never been my forte.  So for a while there, I was confusing “seizure” with “stroke” and assumed that the issue with my dog Ben was that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen through his brain.  Assuming that even that little nugget of knowledge is true.

Turns out that wasn’t the problem at all.  As it turns out, Ben was having a seizure because of either a tumor or cancer -- something evidenced by, as the vet pointed out, his non-contracting pupils and his lack of reactions.  Setting aside his convulsions and stiffened body, of course.  In any case, the vet explained that things weren’t looking good, and there was a possibility that Ben would have to get some serious treatment to get back to “normal.”  Surgery wasn’t an option; the fact that an eight-year-old dog was even having a seizure was rare enough.  The way he put it -- and outright confirmed a few minutes later -- considering euthanasia if the seizures continued over the course of anywhere up to two weeks was an option.

As it turns out, there was no need to even consider it.  Ben was gone two hours later.

To say that this was a surprise would be a huge understatement…and that’s saying something, considering this dog.  This dog has not only survived jumping out of a truck and wandering around wintry southeast Texas on his own for nearly two weeks, but for years now has had plenty of other medical conditions.  Diabetes.  Addison’s disease.  And most recently, blindness.  It took two daily insulin shots, a half-pill in the morning, and a monthly injection of some kind of chemical -- adrenaline, maybe -- to make sure he stayed active.

But outside of the blindness -- which he had almost completely gotten over within a few months -- he was a normal, dopey dog.  Up to and including the morning of his passing; apparently he thought it’d be a fun idea to wake me up by clawing at my bed, hoping that I’d let him nestle alongside me.  He was -- and still is -- a big dope.  He was greedy, always looking for food, clumsy, oafish, impossible to take seriously, and all-around kind of goofy-looking; I swear he had really pointy eyeballs, and that’s setting aside the fact that he had trouble focusing them on one thing at a time, and the whites of his eyes always looked like they were decaying.  Whether that’s a trait of the Shih Tzu breed in general or just proof that he was defective, it’s hard to say.  What’s important is that just by being himself, Ben could always get a laugh…when he wasn’t pooping wherever he felt like it.  Or growling for food.

It’s hard to imagine that not even twenty-four hours ago I watched him chow down.  And one of the last things I did for him was keep his tongue from rolling down his throat…and getting my thumb bitten in the process.  C’est la vie. 

So.  Where does that leave me?  Hurting, obviously.  Losing a grandparent is tough, but at least I was prepared for that; going from rubbing my dog’s stomach to trying desperately to find his heartbeat feels like I got blindsided by a runaway train.  But I’ll manage.  I’ll get over this; I did it last time, and I can do it again.  There’s a time for grief, and there’s a time for action -- and seeing as how I’m more than able to keep on going, I won’t let myself stop so readily.

That said, I’m going to need a bit of time to get back to 100%.  So here’s what I’m going to do.  I already have a couple of posts written and scheduled to be released, but I think I’m going to postpone that for a day.  Just one day.  That means that the I Hraet You chapter is going to go up Friday, and in tandem, so will the other post.  It’s not a Let’s Discuss post, but it should be more than a little entertaining (and if you read my post on The Wolverine, you know exactly what’s coming up).  So yeah, look forward to that.

As for me?  Well…honestly?  I think that just by writing this post, I’m starting to feel a little bit better.  I’m going to miss Ben, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I break down at one point, but merely the fact that I’m willing to move forward, have goals in mind, and want to keep pressing on regardless has to count for something.  If burying myself in writing is my coping mechanism, then so be it.  I can’t think of a better vice.  Plus I’ve still got my other dog.  My mean dog, but he’s still like a (hairy) brother to me.

And that’ll do it for now.  See you guys soon.

And…see you around, Ben.  It was a blast.

See?  I told you he looked goofy.  I still can’t believe he ever wore that sweater, though; talk about a lack of fashion sense…