8522BE73-564B-4DA8-BCC1-DB9B667C767DThis started out as a very different post called “Oh the sad sweetness of the very senior dog” — a melancholy review of the passage of time and the impact on my old girl Tawny (age guess around 16 years). The fatigue, the wandering, the peeing, the wobbling, the panting, etc. etc. Oh sadness, oh sorrow.

Then everything changed when the seizures started. I went from oh well to CODE RED in a heartbeat. Caring for the old dog turned into a panicked, sleep-deprived dive into Oh My Gawd.

I know a bit about seizures, having had a fair number of clients over the years who have had dogs burdened with them. Plus my last dog seizured the last day of his life (he was 17), so there was that terrifying thought leaping around my amygdala. I know there are usually only a few possible causes in an old dog, and most aren’t good: growth/tumor, general body/organ breakdown.

But there was also this possibility: inner-ear infection. Which has no visible symptoms.

I also am intimately familiar with (some might say OCD about) Tawny’s body and health history. She came to me as a foster with a bad ear infection that took 6 months of daily cleanings to clear up. After that, I was obsessive about checking/cleaning to make sure it never recurred. And at the time the seizures started, she was on antibiotics. So an infection wasn’t possible in my view.

Still… Tawny’s unique ears feature corn-maze-like passages that are difficult to keep clear. So was it possible she had not an infection but a blockage? Would that be enough to trigger a seizure?

Crossed my fingers and started flushing (fueled by massive amounts of ground turkey for tolerating it. I mean for Tawny of course). Warm compresses (more turkey). Massages (no turkey needed for this one!).

What happened? A miracle. The seizures stopped.

 

I nervously started counting days. They’d been happening a week apart. A week passed. Eight, nine, 10 days. Two weeks. Three. Though I never saw a smidgen of dirt flush out of her ears, something was happening. (I did once see a tiny bit of yellow glop from one ear which may have been a blockage.)

As the no-seizure days piled up, I started allowing myself the feeling that I had addressed the problem. Relief washed over me and sleep started returning.

But this story isn’t over. Because the miracles kept coming.

To my delight and astonishment, other changes emerged. Tawny perked up, becoming more aware of her surroundings, more engaged with me, even starting to play again. She was less wobbly. The limping she exhibited in her front leg that caused me to put a brace on her went away. The incontinence stopped. And most astonishing of all, a growth that appeared on her inner eyelid shrank and disappeared.

I thought these were all old-dog things that just had to be managed. I could not have been more wrong.

How long had that inner-ear problem been going on? How could we (me, vets) have missed it?

Know what? I don’t care. All I care about is treatment worked, the seizures are gone and her health is still improving. How far can she go? I have no idea. I am just going to continue to observe, challenge and adjust as needed.

And NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER ASSUME.

What a gift.

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