If the scare with my husband wasn't enough,
I survived another massive adrenaline jolt
about a week later.
March 8, 2010
Uncle Joey was due to arrive in an hour or so,
so the man of the house ran out for beer and groceries.
Bug and I were sitting at the kitchen table doing who knows what.
Was it play-dough, markers, or stamps?
It doesn't matter now, but it's amazing how quickly
some things become insignificant.
Our sweet yellow lab was vegging out on the living room floor.
Asleep or awake, I don't know. All was quiet.
Dog was up like a shot.
So fast, she bolted across the room.
It was as if some force threw her.
Her front legs not keeping up with the back.
She crashes snout first into the corner
between the fish tank and wall.
A two inch gap, at the most.
Her legs digging into the carpet with a frenzy,
her head driven over and over into that small corner in the wall.
I fly off my chair.
Bug screams.
For a moment I hope (mouse).
The closer I get the more I realize.
She's out of her mind.
She's convulsing,
still throwing herself.
Paws, claws, digging furiously.
Head still being rammed over and over at the wall.
She's still running herself into that small, small space.
I pull her back and she's gone again.
Into a child's tent wall, into the couch.
Legs moving in a frenzied uncontrolled run.
Bug screams. Bug cries.
"My dog! My dog! My dog!"
Our dog's eyes, they're bulging.
The awareness is gone.
Her mouth, panting.
Her voice, a deep gutteral whine.
Still out of control.
Across the room again, she throws her body against another couch.
Will this stop?
Legs stiff, legs shaking, legs don't let her lie down.
I pull her to the floor, but I can't hold her down.
She flies backwards into the plants, the wall, the couch.
There's no anger in her face.
I see fear, or maybe it is a reflection of mine.
Minutes are passing.
Bug is still screaming.
Her strength is waning while I corner her.
Her heart is racing.
I hold her face in my hands,
barely inches away.
"I love you, I love you, I'm right here and I love you.
You're ok, you're ok, come back, I love you."
Over and over.
I can't think of anything else to say.
These tears, I'm fighting.
She seems almost possessed.
Still whining and restless.
Blood near her eye, near her nose.
I grab two phones.
Call the neighbors, the husband.
I have talked Bug up, onto the couch.
Bug is still crying, sobbing.
I try to reassure her while I'm not sure.
My voice is shaking.
My heart is racing.
Husband rushes in.
Drops down by my side.
Dog is coming around,
her heart still racing, her body still shaking.
with such a scared look in her eyes.
Neighbors burst in. They love her too.
I'm holding the tears, at least trying hard to.
I thought I was losing her.
We don't know what it was.
The vet's are lost too.
Could have been a seizure,
but they don't have a clue.
I survived another massive adrenaline jolt
about a week later.
March 8, 2010
Uncle Joey was due to arrive in an hour or so,
so the man of the house ran out for beer and groceries.
Bug and I were sitting at the kitchen table doing who knows what.
Was it play-dough, markers, or stamps?
It doesn't matter now, but it's amazing how quickly
some things become insignificant.
Our sweet yellow lab was vegging out on the living room floor.
Asleep or awake, I don't know. All was quiet.
Dog was up like a shot.
So fast, she bolted across the room.
It was as if some force threw her.
Her front legs not keeping up with the back.
She crashes snout first into the corner
between the fish tank and wall.
A two inch gap, at the most.
Her legs digging into the carpet with a frenzy,
her head driven over and over into that small corner in the wall.
I fly off my chair.
Bug screams.
For a moment I hope (mouse).
The closer I get the more I realize.
She's out of her mind.
She's convulsing,
still throwing herself.
Paws, claws, digging furiously.
Head still being rammed over and over at the wall.
She's still running herself into that small, small space.
I pull her back and she's gone again.
Into a child's tent wall, into the couch.
Legs moving in a frenzied uncontrolled run.
Bug screams. Bug cries.
"My dog! My dog! My dog!"
Our dog's eyes, they're bulging.
The awareness is gone.
Her mouth, panting.
Her voice, a deep gutteral whine.
Still out of control.
Across the room again, she throws her body against another couch.
Will this stop?
Legs stiff, legs shaking, legs don't let her lie down.
I pull her to the floor, but I can't hold her down.
She flies backwards into the plants, the wall, the couch.
There's no anger in her face.
I see fear, or maybe it is a reflection of mine.
Minutes are passing.
Bug is still screaming.
Her strength is waning while I corner her.
Her heart is racing.
I hold her face in my hands,
barely inches away.
"I love you, I love you, I'm right here and I love you.
You're ok, you're ok, come back, I love you."
Over and over.
I can't think of anything else to say.
These tears, I'm fighting.
She seems almost possessed.
Still whining and restless.
Blood near her eye, near her nose.
I grab two phones.
Call the neighbors, the husband.
I have talked Bug up, onto the couch.
Bug is still crying, sobbing.
I try to reassure her while I'm not sure.
My voice is shaking.
My heart is racing.
Husband rushes in.
Drops down by my side.
Dog is coming around,
her heart still racing, her body still shaking.
with such a scared look in her eyes.
Neighbors burst in. They love her too.
I'm holding the tears, at least trying hard to.
I thought I was losing her.
We don't know what it was.
The vet's are lost too.
Could have been a seizure,
but they don't have a clue.
3 comments:
Scary post. Is she okay? Miss you.
Another episode today at our neighbor's house. We're all pretty sure they're seizures now. What's going wrong with our sweet puppers?
Oh no! Terrifying!!! Poor, poor puppy! Poor, poor you and Bug!
Post a Comment