Morning of 1/12

We brought Jillie home yesterday, as you all probably know. I took her straight to my parents' house, which was a hard decision to be away from her all night, but I knew my dad would be home this week and could keep a watchful eye over her and take care of her.

We got her medication in her about 4:30 yesterday, and I laid with her for a while. At one point, I heard her lift her head up, and as soon as I started talking to her, she fell backward and had a very small seizure that lasted about 10 seconds. About a minute later, she had another one, maybe 10-15 seconds.

Shortly after, she had two more short ones. These seizures were not violent. They were mostly her front legs and neck getting stiff and shaking a little, and her eyes twitching and rolling around. She also urinated, which makes me think that she had a seizure that second night at home, the night before we took her to A&M.

She ended up having two more a while later, so I called A&M, and they suggested I go get her seizure medication immediately. So I made an emergency appointment in Bowie, got her medication, drove straight back to my parents' and gave it to her. I left shortly after that so I could go get some sleep, and I was pretty confident in the medication.

Now is Dad's part of the story.

He thinks it was around midnight when she got out of bed, walked to the bowls and drank quite a bit of water. She wandered to the door, but when Mom tried to see if she wanted to go outside, she really didn't. She squatted and peed in the house, which is uncharacteristic of her, but at least her body was functioning. Tee-tee is easy to clean up. She was up for about 30 minutes and went and laid back in her bed, and my parents went to sleep.

Around 3, Dad woke up and saw that she was outside of her bed on the blanket and her legs were stiff. She was not seizing, but she was in the after-effects of one, which was panting and legs very stiff. He called me around 4 to tell me, but since she wasn't actually seizing, there was nothing we could do. I got to my parents' at 7, and she had not moved positions and her legs were still stiff like she was in post-seizure. As soon as she saw me and I started talking to her, her heart rate went up and she started panting. That means that she knew I was there and was alert. She was moving her eyes and occasionally her ears, but her body showed no movements.

Dad and I decided to flip her on her other side so hopefully if her brain was swollen, it would take some pressure off that side. It almost seemed like she had some convulsions during that, and her body and tail were moving, but she stayed extremely stiff. It was almost like her nerves were taking over. She didn't show any signs of improvement before I left for work.

I have been on the phone with A&M to talk to the neurologists all morning, but they are in the middle of rounds and won't be available until 10 AM. I still have hope in the spinal tap results, because if they could just pinpoint it to something else, we might have hope.

Life isn't fair. And I mean that in all the good ways and bad ways.
It wasn't fair to all the other people in the world who search for a good dog and can't find one. Jillie stumbled into my life as a guest, and I kept her as my own.
It isn't fair that I didn't want a dog at the time, but that I fell in love so quickly. It wasn't fair to either of us.
It wasn't fair that I didn't have a CLUE what I was doing with a dog by myself. Jillie was my learning curve.
It wasn't fair to me that she showed so much kindness and patience toward someone who, on most days, didn't want to take her for a walk. But I did.
It was never fair to all the other dogs, in the past and in the future, that they will never come close to my big love with Jillie. Everyone, in their life, has a big love. ONE big love. And as far as dogs go, she is my ONE big love. And trust me, she has a big amount of love to give. And I could learn a little something from her.
And it's not fair that she is going through this.
It's not fair to think that another dog deserved this more than her.
It's not fair that I couldn't prevent her from this. It was my job to prevent her from so many things that could kill her - heartworms, rabies, distemper, getting hit by a car. It's not fair that there isn't prevention for this.
And it's not fair that as much as it breaks my heart, I KNOW it breaks her heart that she can't cuddle up with me, lick my face, and in her own way, tell me that everything is going to be okay.