Small Fry

Herself speaks.

In the wee hours of the morning yesterday (circa 4 AM), Tiny Dog had a seizure. She was in the bed between me and Beloved Husband, and we both started awake, knowing that something was Very Wrong Indeed. The seizure only lasted a minute or so, even though it seemed like eons. Once it had stopped and Tiny Dog seemed to be recovering, I put on my clothes and rushed her to the emergency vet that is mercifully very near to the house. They examined her, and her vitals were stable and strong, so we opted at that time not to take any further action. 

It isn't clear whether it was an actual seizure, or "convulsive syncope" related to her heart murmur/heart condition. The emergency vet felt it was the latter. We'll go to our regular vet as soon as possible and have her evaluated again; I expect that they will concur with the emergency vet. My research tells me that Tiny Dog might be entering the next phase of congestive heart failure, which we were expecting eventually, given her prominent heart murmur. I hope that there will be additional medicines that will help her continue to live as full a life as possible. She is nine and a half -- no longer young in dog years, but not yet so old. We will see what we can do. 

My tiny baby dog. I am hesitant to leave the house to run errands, afraid that I will come back and find naught but a cold lifeless body. She is a strong little creature, though, and seems to have bounced back well. She slept well last night and ate a good breakfast this morning. She is in my lap or otherwise snuggled up against me. We are both happy with that. Who could ask for anything more than these moments?