The Spooky blog: Pooky. The End.

Well, if you read my last post, you would see just how much I love my sweet dog.

Only HOURS after posting that, I awoke from my sunday afternoon nap to a banging on the front porch. I got up and saw my dad standing there at the door calling to Pooky.

He was having a Seizure. After the seizure ended, Pooky got up, didn't know where he was or who we were, he even bowed up at my dad. He was like a wild dog. After about 5 more minutes he got a little more oriented and came up to the door where my dad was. Pooky looked up and what I saw in his eyes scared me. I knew something bad had just happened. There was no life, no personality, no love, no sparkle like there always was. We didn't know what to think. After a minute we decided that it must have been a seizure but we knew he wasn't rabid or he wouldn't have warmed up to dad so quickly the way he did. My dad went and put him in the pen afraid that if he had another one, he could hurt someone or one of the other pets.

After about 30 minutes, I went out to check on him. He was having, or had already had another seizure. This time I knew something was REALLY wrong. I went and called to dad who called the neighbor that knows more about these things and might could help.

Meanwhile, I went to the horse pasture. I couldn't stay and watch him go through all those seizures. A little while later, my mom called and asked if I wanted to go with dad and our neighbor to take him to the emergency vet in town. I did want to, so I drove back to the house and went with them.

At the vet, they took him in and got him stabilized he had started to have another seizure when they got him onto the table. Our options were basically, money, more money, and lots of money. That is the worst decision to have to make when the best dog you've ever had and have loved the most is between life and death but you know you don't have all that money to heal him. The vet told us it could be a number of things, but couldn't really diagnose anything unless we spent even MORE money.

After talking for a while, we decided to leave him there for the night and let them run fluids through him to clean out his system. That would eliminate the diagnosis of a toxin that he could have eaten and if that's all it was he would get better and wouldn't require more extensive treatment for the rest of his life.

That night was one of the worst I've had. I was so worried the whole time. At 10pm the vet called and gave us a good report that he hadn't had any more seizures since we left, and that he was awake, moving around and eating. That made me feel a little better and gave me some hope. The vet didn't call any more that night which made me hope there hadn't been any more seizures.

We got to the vet at 7 the next morning to pick him up. The vet told us he had had another seizure but not a bad one, at 11pm and then had a pretty violent one at 1am. This was not good news, but I kept that little bit of hope alive that everything would be ok.

They brought him out on a stretcher because he was still sedated and asleep. After getting him in the back of the Suburban they closed the doors and we went to get in to go home. I rode in the back with him. Something just told me it would be better if I did.

Dad started up the Suburban and it jolted him enough that he woke up and lifted up his head, but then he put it back down. When I saw it, I started talking to him. As soon as he heard my voice, his eyes opened again and his ear perked up and with all the energy that he had in him, he jumped up and wobbled over to me and got in my lap. He went out of it again for a second, but then he woke up and tried to lick and kiss my face as best he could. I knew that was HIM. I knew that was my baby. He knew it was me. I started crying and talking to him and calming him down. He didn't need to be getting excited as sedated as he still was. The fact that he got up in my lap was proof that he had enough will power to fight off the sleep for just that second to come tell me he loved me. I petted him and stroked him and talked to him all the way home. When he would start to wake up he would whine and I would stroke his ears to calm him down. That was his favorite thing. He loved it when I would stroke and pet his soft, velvety ears. It always calmed him down and there in the Suburban it still did.

He woke up again when we got home. This time he was awake enough that he got up and walked around the back of the suburban, looking out the windows and coming over to us. Since he was up, we picked him up and let him out of the Suburban. We put him in the front yard out in the warm sunshine. He walked around for a while, ate a little, went to the bathroom and even walked up to Bessie and tried to mess with her like always. He was still slow, like he was still half asleep, but he started to get his bearings more and more, coming up to us and wagging his tail and putting his ears back. Then he started falling asleep again. He was just wandering around like the walking dead, then finally laid down and went back to sleep. And he was OUT.

He was asleep for about an hour. Dad and I kept moving him into the sun as it came up and made the shade move in the front yard. We wanted to make sure he was warm and didn't get chilled. Finally, after being completely motionless the whole sleep, the only sign of life being the steady breathing and his big, wonderful heart beating, he suddenly woke up, arose and started walking around. He was pretty out of it still. He had to get more awake, but the more he walked around, the more real POOKY there was in him. He started to wag his tail and put his ears back when you petted him, and even began smiling again. Slowly, more of his characteristics began coming back, but there was still something missing. As dad put it, he was 95% Pooky again. But that 5% was still not there. That sparkle and life hadn't returned to his eyes....they were still blank and lifeless. They weren't Pooky's eyes.

Since he was doing better it seemed, Dad had to leave to go to town. I had noticed since he woke up that he didn't seem to be attached to me as well as he was to dad. It was kind of hard to swallow, but I figured it was just that he still wasn't all the way back to his old self yet. We weren't sure if his wandering around and restlessness was still caused by the sedative wearing off....we were HOPING it was caused by the sedative wearing off. We figured that we'd give it another 12 to 24 hours...we didn't know how long it took for Valium to wear off.

As dad was walking around the yard, Pooky would follow him EVERYWHERE he went. He wouldn't even come to me when I called him...which was semi normal really...if Pooky really didn't want to come, he wouldn't come. He was just stubborn like that. However...he wasn't responding to commands the way he usually did. When dad drove off in the truck, Pooky tried to follow. He even tried to get IN the truck when dad was getting in. He never tried to get in the truck normally, but we figured it was just him being a little bit slow still.

Once dad drove off, I stayed out there and petted him a bit. He acted almost like I was a total stranger. He would come up to me, but I didn't feel that connection we once had. I walked in the house and he tried to follow me in. I told him 'No' and he still tried to follow me in. The real Pooky knew that he wasn't to enter the house without being invited. I basically had to push him out and tell him 'No' again and he just looked so lost and afraid. I closed the door and he began to whine and whimper. It broke my heart, but I knew I couldn't open the door right then or he would keep doing it. Then it occured to me. He was back to being a puppy. He was back to when we first got him. When he had such terrible separation anxiety and didn't ever want to be separated from us. He didn't KNOW he wasn't supposed to enter the house without an invitation. He didn't KNOW what the word 'No' meant. He didn't KNOW how to sit. It's like a whole year and a half of his life had been erased. The reason why he was still attached to dad was because of the first day he came home. When he ran out into the front yard, scared and lost. When dad knelt down and called to him and he ran back into dad's arms. From that day, dad was his true master. Yes, he obeyed and loved my mom and I, but that secured in his mind that dad was his ultimate friend.

After a little while of going inside, then walking back outside to check on him, I decided to go on outside and take some more pictures. I wanted as many as I could get. Somehow I knew he would never really be my Pooky again.

As I walked outside he got excited to see me and suddenly jumped up and tried to bite my cheek...just like he always did. It surprised me and made me wonder if, just maybe, he would slowly come back. He was trotting out in front of me just like always as we were walking out to the front yard when in a split second, he went blank. Suddenly he stopped and looked up and his eyes were huge and blank and he was unresponsive to anything and everything. I knew what that meant. He was about to have another one. Another seizure.

Since dogs can be dangerous and dis-oriented coming out of a seizure I hurried myself and Bessie back into the house. I tried to call dad. I thought he had gone on into town and I needed the neighbor's number . I just needed someone to come because I didn't know what to do. The vet had said that when he was having a seizure he didn't know what was going on and wasn't feeling any pain, but we just had to leave him and let him go through it. I just needed someone there with me. After I got Bessie into the house I walked back out the door to try and see where he was at. I saw him out in the yard, completely spazzing out...it is a terrible picture in my mind that I know will always be there. My baby, laying out there, with no control over his mind or body, just shaking and rolling. I even shake as I re-live this moment.

I got dad on the phone. It turned out that he had just gone across the street. He was too afraid to leave me there alone. Pooky was still in the middle of it when he pulled up. Dad slowly walked across the yard as Pooky got up and starting criss crossing around. He couldn't go straight. The world was still spinning for him. His mind wasn't there. We knew then that our hopes of it just being something he ate, were gone. It was something more serious. We knew it was too late.

Dad reached me. I hugged him and we cried. Our hearts were beginning to break at the harsh reality that lay ahead. As Pooky came more into it, he was calm and walking around just like before, but that 95% had dropped another 50%. He was even less, my Pooky. He was nothing more than a strange dog, wandering around the yard. We petted him and followed him around a little bit. We took some pictures of each of us with him. My feeling were unexplainable. It was hard holding on to that dog. I knew my Spooky was already gone. I didn't feel like I was hugging my baby because I knew it wasn't him. He wandered around some more while dad and I just sat and watched him. We didn't know what else to do. We dreaded the time ahead. Finally, he stopped and layed down underneath the trampoline. That was the first time he had stopped since he awoke that morning. It was a little refreshing seeing that change in behavior. As I looked at him and watched him sleep. I realized that it was time to let go. I wasn't ready, I would never be ready, but I felt I had enough strength in me to let go. I didn't even want to go over and pet him. I knew he wouldn't know me and I knew it wasn't my baby. Pooky had already left me. That big smile and those sparkling eyes were never going to be back. I told dad to do whatever he thought best. Dad was planning on going to the vet to see if there was anything they could do. Any medicine. Any hope. At that point, I had separated myself and it didn't matter anymore.

I got up, walked back in the house, and I never saw my Spooky again. We put him in the ground wrapped in a blanket. I couldn't stand to see the lifeless body where by baby had been.

We buried him in the front yard. All the other pets we've buried are on the other side of the yard between the big oak trees, but we felt that Pooky wasn't just our pet. He was our friend and family member. We buried him in the spot where he always took his toys. He would dig out some 'toys' out of dad's tools and stuff and carry them out to his "playground." They might stay there for weeks on end without being touched, but he ALWAYS knew where they were. We walked around the yard and found his two favorite toys: His frisbee and his "phone" (an old phone he found somewhere in dad's stuff...he chewed off the cord and carried the phone around. :). We put those right there with him where they'll be there forever. And as much as I want as many memories of him to keep, his toys belong with him.

And there, along with my heart, they will always be.