A Scare and a Precious Reminder

At 1:30 a.m. yesterday morning, we were awakened by our dog in distress. Oliver was having a seizure or some kind of episode. We came out of our sleep abruptly and then reality set in. He wasn’t doing well–he couldn’t hold his head up, and didn’t have control of his legs. He was panting heavily. We were afraid he was dying.

We comforted him as best we could and were afraid to try to move him. A call to the animal emergency hospital a little after 2:00 a.m. brought the news that it would be a 3-4 hour wait there, and it was snowing pretty steadily then, making the 25-mile drive more concerning. We continued to comfort Oliver and one another. We tried to give him some water. We took turns sitting on the floor in our bedroom next to him. And we waited until we could call our local vet clinic.

Those arrangements we had talked about making but never had–like when we might need to make a decision about prolonging his life or ending suffering he may be experiencing, or how would we go about getting him cremated when the time came–came flooding in.

We wondered if our son Sam, who was 6 when we got Oliver and turns 21 next week, would see this little guy alive again?

A couple hours in, we started seeing some improvement in Oliver. He could hold his head up. He went up on his front haunches. He slowly worked his way to a wobbly stand, and then a wobbly walk. We regained hope, and he seemed to return to his usual self.

Hours later, the vet didn’t find anything glaringly wrong, and we are awaiting blood work and urine testing. (That was a first–getting a urine sample from our dog.) We got some answers to those end-of-life questions too.

Sam–who is still on winter break before starting college classes again next week-came home and has gotten to spend some time with Oliver. We are relieved, but also bluntly reminded of the inevitable. No pet lives forever. No person lives forever. Life is precious and fragile. Don’t take our loved ones and our beloved pets for granted.

We have been very fortunate to have Oliver in our lives for over 14 years. He’s surpassed life expectancy for his breed and size, and he has overall been a really healthy dog. He’s certainly been showing more signs of aging the last couple of years, but is still out for short walks daily and continues to navigate the stairs in our house pretty well, though we are always ready to help when needed.

Oliver has his own kind of bond with each of us in the family. We got Oliver in July 2008, when he was two months old. I was in the early weeks of a cancer diagnosis. Treatment and surgeries lie ahead. He became a welcome distraction. I describe it this way: Oliver and I, my “this-side-of-cancer self,” grew up together. I will never forget the walks, even short ones, that I took with him on my toughest chemo days, and how he also sensed my post-surgery vulnerability. A puppy and a breast cancer patient, both relishing the fresh air and sunshine.

We still call him pup most of the time. We love you Oliver. You gave us a scare. So grateful you are doing better. And also learning to start letting you go more.

Note: The feature picture with today’s post is of Oliver at about 6:30 yesterday morning, back to his usual self.