Reyna's Seizures (Update)

I don't think I've mentioned this here (although I'm sure I've told some of you), and I know its a bit delayed, but then again, so are most of my posts... This has been on my mind a good bit the last few days for some reason, so I figured I'd toss it out. Reyna started having seizures back in September. The vet thought she was having partial seizures (as opposed to Grand Mal), but had no idea why they'd started. Then, in early November, they went away. The vet thinks that the stress of all my business traveling was what set them off. Since my last trip was in late October, he figures it just took her a bit to believe I was staying home and for her stress level to go down. Granted, I traveled a lot between April and September, but usually no more than 3 or 4 days a month. In September, I was gone for an entire week, and then October was freakishly insane. Even though Uncle John was staying over - which I thought would be less stressful (not to mention less expensive) than boarding - its not the same as having Mom at home. And Reyna has always been a Mama's Girl. So, periodically, I think of all this and feel like a horrible person. After all, how many people can say they gave their dog seizures? And I find that, as I contemplate various options for my future, I'm factoring that in to my decision-making process. Maybe I shouldn't, I don't know. But I do know I would have a very hard time taking a position that comes with a lot of traveling built in, knowing that it could easily cause my baby girl significant health problems.

Duncan, of course, was totally oblivious to the fact that I was gone.

This Is What Frightens My Dog

The other morning, I let the dogs out the front to walk to the mailbox. Reyna was all the way to the edge of the yard before she saw The Scary Things. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her skid to a halt like that…. Reyna had her hackles up and was barking at the bags before Duncan even realized something was wrong. As soon as he did, though, his hackles were up and he was barking, too. They spent about five minutes sniffing and running around the bags. When we went out this morning, the bags were still there, so Reyna immediately ran over to check them out. Hackles up the whole time, of course. And Duncan decided he really would rather just walk with Mom....

Picture Time

This is one of the portraits John and I had taken right before Thanksgiving. These are the first professional pictures of the two of us since I was a year old.

She Who Runs With Sharp Objects

Reyna has once again proven that she is, indeed, my child. This morning, she cut her nose on her soccer ball. Yes, she was cut by a round object. The ball has a few holes in it, courtesy of her obsession with the ball, and it stayed outside all night. Apparently, frost makes soccer ball edges very sharp. We were outside playing for a few minutes before work this morning, and I saw blood on the ball the second time she brought it back. I figured she’d bitten her tongue, because she’s done that before. But, no. She’d actually managed to slice the top of her nose open with the edge of the hole. Only Reyna...

It's Totally Totaled

John and I spent most of the day before Thanksgiving dealing with our little fender-bender and trying to get back home. Oddly enough, the fender is the only part of my car currently in my garage, and that will last only until I get my check. The adjuster called last Thursday to tell me they’ve decided to total the car. Thankfully. So, if the bank ever cooperates (apparently, they’re being grumpy for some reason), the insurance company will pay off the remaining loan and then send me what’s left of the money. And there’s enough that I am quite happy they’re totaling the car. Once I get the money, I’ll turn in my tag, cancel the insurance, and call it a day. I still have the pup-wagon, so I’m not going to stress over getting another vehicle any time soon.

He's a Ruff 'n' Tuff Pup

I’m so proud of my boy...he showed his protective side in the last preagility class. There’s a crazy border collie (is that redundant?) in class, and he was taking his turn going through a series of obstacles. He ran out of the chute towards another dog, who fiercely protected her toy. That growl sent him veering away from her, straight toward me. To my great surprise, Duncan popped up like somebody’d poked him in the butt and lunged at the border collie. If I’d not grabbed his scruff - and if the border collie hadn’t shown some intelligence and immediately turned the other direction - Duncan might actually have made contact. The official response, of course, is “Bad dog. We don’t do that.” But the real response is “Good boy! Mommy’s so proud of you for protecting her! That’s my good Dunkin-punkin!”

Duncan's First Routine

Duncan performed his first canine freestyle routine last night - it was required for him to pass the class. And he did a wonderful job. He did so well, in fact, that we're entering the WCFO video competition later in December. We'll clean the routine up a bit, find appropriate clothes for me, and submit an entry. I'm so proud of him!

A Sign That I Definitely Need Some Time Off....

Last night, I got home from work about an hour and a half late, which usually isn’t too bad, but it was dark and cold and I was grumpy. So I put on my usual after-work attire – sweats and slippers. I’ve been really sleepy lately, and I think its because my Tegratol (John calls them my “Death Meds”) dose has been doubled, and these are extended release, which is probably why I’m feeling it more in the afternoon and early evening. I didn’t doze on the couch last night, but I did come close to it. I realized about 8:45 that Reyna has managed to lick another hole in her tail, so I made a point of staying awake so I could keep her from messing with it.

But on to why I need time off... When I was getting ready for bed last night, I wanted my slippers next to the bed, because those Pergo floors are freaking cold in the morning (no rugs yet, because I keep picturing the cats horking up all over them and can’t bring myself to spend the money) and I like to put on my slippers before my poor feet hit those nasty cold floors. The last place I remembered seeing them was by the foot of the bed, so I looked around the bed, under the afghan, and then got down on the floor and looked under the bed. No slippers. I looked in the closet. Twice. No slippers. I was getting really annoyed, asking the cats what they’d done with my slippers. I even checked the bathroom. No slippers. As I was headed back to the closet to check one more time, I head a noise that made me look down. Lo and behold, I found my slippers! ON MY FEET. Sigh.

Some Days, I Really Hate Being Right....

There are times when I do things that I know I shouldn’t do on my own. Today was one of those times. I’m working on cleaning up the garage so that I can get my car in there, and one of the ways I decided to increase my space is to hang the dog crates on the walls. One of the garage walls is unfinished, so instead of sheet rock, its just the bare studs, and the occasionally sharp, pointy nail still sticking out. There are 4 crates – 2 big and 2 travel, and hanging them is a good idea. So, I went to Lowe’s and got some big hooks to screw into the studs. I measured the crates, figured out the best way to hang them, and put the hooks in the studs (thanks again, Brian, for the laser level).

This is the point where I told myself that I really should wait for John to get here tomorrow so I’d have help getting the crates on the higher hooks. I knew I’d have trouble getting those heavy things up high enough on my own. And *this* is the point where I told myself, what the heck, you don’t know what you can do til you try. So, I set the ladder up in front of the wall, got up on the second step, and managed to get the crate up to where it was propped on my leg. And I tried, I really did, to get the thing high enough, but even I knew I was pushing it to go up another step on the ladder. After several attempts, I decided that I was right, I needed to wait for help, and that my best course was to get the crate back on the floor without damaging it or doing something really bad, like rupturing another disc in my back.

Well, the trip down didn’t go quite as smoothly as the trip up. As I was stepping down, I slipped, and started to fall forward. I had a quick flash that, if I dropped the crate, I was in a prime position to catch myself on one of those exposed nails, which would be a bad thing. Unfortunately, trying to hold on to the crate didn’t help much, either. My foot came off the ladder, the ladder slid backwards, and I went down. Backwards, which meant no nails, but which also meant no way of stopping myself. When the dust settled, I was on the floor on my hip, hoping I’d not broken my wrist. I hit it on something, the ladder, the garage door supports, the crate, who knows? It’s swollen and purple in a few areas, but it still works. My hip is purple in a few spots, too, and I have a feeling it’ll be sore for a day or two. I thumped my knee on something, and my back has decided that it is also upset with me. No ruptured discs, just very grumpy.

I’ll be fine in a day or two, but the worst part isn’t the actual falling. Its that I’d already given up. Not that I have an interest in falling on cement floors, but I’d rather have done it while I was still thinking I might succeed, when it would have been a real “told you so.” Falling after admitting defeat really is just insult to injury.

The Poor Girl Just Can’t Catch A Break

Reyna’s having a rough time these days. On the up side of things, her tail is beautiful again, she’s off the puppy prozac, and the aspirin seems to be keeping her hip pain to a tolerable level most days. On the way down side, though, she’s now having seizures. The only part of her that shakes is her head. The first time I saw it, I thought for a second she was rubbing her chin on the floor to scratch an itch, but that wasn’t it. She lays down on the floor in a sprawled position, not one she would normally use, and her head twitches and shakes back and forth between her front paws. She looks at me the whole time – at least her eyes are looking in my direction. I’ve not tried moving around to see if she can follow me. The seizure usually last about a minute to a minute and a half, and then she lays still for a bit, and then shifts position to get more comfortable. I’ve seen 4 in the last month, which is apparently enough for the vet to be very concerned (especially since I’ve been gone almost two weeks of the last month). Based on my description, he thinks they are partial seizures, and not something like epilepsy. He wants me to videotape the next one, so I have my camera on the kitchen counter, all charged up. Once he see the tape and decides if what he heard me say and what he sees match up, he’ll decide where we go from there. Most likely, the first step will be a complete round of blood tests, to see if they can find a problem. If not, who knows? I’m hoping that, for some freakish reason, the combination of prozac, aspirin, and glucosamine are what set these off. That’s highly unlikely, but it’d be nice if that was it, since she’s all done with the prozac. Just another wait-and-see sort of thing...

It’s Official…

Duncan really is part pony. He weighed in at a whopping 101.5 pounds Wednesday (and he's only 15 months old). The vet thinks his hips are okay, but he couldn’t really tell, because Duncan was fighting him the whole time. He said that, if they are bad, they’re surrounded by a huge amount of muscle, so there won’t be any trouble with them, anyway. I’m not sure, but I think he was saying that Duncan is really strong...

We're famous! Sort of....

Check out February, and then tell Jeff what great pictures he takes.

The Newest Canine Good Citizen

September 13 (yes, once again, I am a slacker), Duncan took and passed his Canine Good Citizen test. He is officially a Good Dog. Of course, everyone who knows him already knew he was a good boy, but now he has a certificate to prove it. What’s really neat is that, since he’s AKC registered, his certificate has his full name: D’Can’s Dark Warrior Dreaming. Passing this test means that he can now take specialty classes, so he started canine freestyle two weeks ago (we missed orientation the first week and class this week because of my business travel), and he’s signed up for Pre-Agility, which starts later this month. And no, he’s not going to do Agiliy, at least not until he’s full grown, and most likely not even then. But the Pre-Agility class will help build his confidence and get him used to going over, around, under, and through new obstacles. And considering how cowed he is around Reyna, he needs every confidence-builder he can get...

Drugs Really *Are* Your Friend

I started Reyna on one buffered aspirin twice a day on Thursday. The difference is amazing. She’s hopping up and down off the couch again, chasing the birds out of the back yard again, and being more playful (and less snotty) with Duncan. I know that, eventually, two aspirins a day won’t ease the pain anymore, and we’ll have to go up to the next level of pain killers. But you know what? I’m so happy to have my girl back that I’m not even worried about that. We’ll deal with it when we get there.

Reyna's Hips

For the last two months or so, I’ve noticed that Reyna has been having trouble getting in the truck and that she’s been limping occasionally. She even yelped once when she crouched to potty. When I asked the vet about it, he said it was probably just a pulled muscle, because she was acting fine otherwise. I didn’t particularly agree with that, but hey, what do I know? I’m no vet, I’m just the person that lives with the dog every day.

This past weekend, the issue finally came to a head. Reyna fell out of the truck twice because she couldn’t get in far enough. She was having trouble getting off the floor, and moving very stiffly (although it would smooth out after she’d been up for a bit). Marie noticed her limping, too. When she was running circles in the yard – one of her favorite activities – she would occasionally fall down, because her back leg would give out. She was also favoring whichever leg was inside the circle, and she was bunny hopping. So, Monday I called the vet and managed to squeeze in an afternoon appointment.

When we got to the vet’s office, she was just as excited and crazy as always. The exam, though, put a quick end to that. He extended her left back leg first, and she immediately started crying, whining, and trying to get away. When he extended her right leg, she lost it, yelping and crying and struggling. When he messed with her back, though, she just stood there, looking around the room. The vet said he felt some crackling in her hips, which was a potential sign of arthritis. He said he needed to get x-rays, and would need her on her back. I pointed out he’d need to sedate her for that, so we scheduled the x-rays for Tuesday morning. Before we left, he said it could be a back injury (doubtful), or just arthritis (also doubtful).

Tuesday morning, the x-rays showed just how bad the hip dysplasia really is. The right hip is severe, the left is moderate. The bones of her right hip have already become deformed; the ball is flattened (mushroomed) out somewhat, the socket has flattened instead of curving around the ball, and there are several arthritic spurs. Her left hip isn’t quite as bad yet, with fewer spurs and less deformation. Neither hip has any cartilage left, though, and both balls are wedged into the sockets, so she’s running around rubbing bone on bone.

According to the vet, the level of treatment we provide now depends on Reyna. We’re starting with Glucosamine for a month, in hopes that it will rebuild some of the missing cartilage. He doesn’t want to put her on pain killers just yet, because she’ll be on them forever, just at different levels. I think I’m going to over-ride that decision today, because she’s so clearly in pain. When my tough, stoic girl limps and yelps, there’s a lot of pain involved. Depending on how quickly the dysplasia progresses, its very likely that she’ll need a hip replacement – we just don’t know when. So, to help offset the cost, I’ve started a savings account specifically for that. For now, we’re having to restrict some of our more strenuous activities, which are, of course, her favorites. I guess it’s a good thing that its hot and we don’t live near any really tough hiking trails, since that’s something we both enjoy. She’ll never be able to be part of a SAR team, because her hips won’t tolerate that type of activity – long hours and generally rough terrain. I’m checking a couple of places this weekend to see about swimming, since that’s the best exercise for her. With luck, we’ll be able to find the right level of treatment to keep her pain free for as long as possible.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yeah, yeah, I know I’m late.

I turned 30 last Thursday, and while I know that’s supposed to be a milestone, it really doesn’t feel any different than 25 or 28. I guess that’s actually a good sign, since I’m not stressing over being “old” or still single at 30.

Lots happened over my birthday weekend – new floors in most of the house, several projects completed, etc. But the best part of my birthday was my friends. They got together, gave me a party, and sent me to the spa for a day. Huge thanks to Marie and Natalie, who had the stressful part of the whole thing – the planning and coordinating. They did loads of work, making sure the decorations were great, everyone knew what was happening where and when, and setting up the group gift. And during all of this, they managed to keep a good bit of the specifics a secret. Very impressive.

The party was at my place, which I thought was great, because I didn’t have to go anywhere. And while I love the fact that it gave me the push I needed to finish a few inside projects, John may not have been as excited about that. But he survived the experience, and that’s what matters.

Lots of folks came, we had beautiful decorations, the food was great, the dogs were thrilled, Reyna fell in love again with baby Brianna, the “gentle roast” was fun, Brian got lots of photos, and the loose balloon didn’t destroy the fan. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.

Drugs Are Your Friend

Reyna’s puppy prozac kicked in about 2 weeks after she started taking it. I noticed it one evening, all of a sudden. There wasn’t a gradual change – one day she was insane, the next, she was relaxing in front of the couch. Its amazing. She still loves to play, and she still spins and chases her tail, but its not as frequent or as constant. She’s been a bit snottier with Duncan, but now that I know what else is going on with her (see Reyna’s Hips), I tend to think at least some of the snottiness is because she’s in pain. And that’ll make anyone grumpy.

The changes have been holding steady for a bit over a week now, and I’m still amazed every evening. If I settle down on the couch or in the office, she’ll spin for a minute or two, watch me for a bit to see if I’m getting up, and then she’ll lay down. I’m pretty sure she’s not napping, and she’s quick to hop up if I start to move, but otherwise, she just relaxes. Its great. I asked the vet if I could keep her like this for the rest of her life, and he said that if we found a nice, low dose where she still has her drive but isn’t totally nuts, he’s okay with it. As far as I can tell, nothing about her personality has changed except for her ability (and willingness) to just relax. I really like this.

Lock Me Up and Throw Away the Key

Its official – I am, however unintentionally, a baby bird killer. Would that be negligent aviacide or birdslaughter?

A small bird has been nesting in my dryer vent for most of the summer, which was fine. I would periodically check it, though, to make sure it wasn’t blocking the air flow. This Saturday I checked it and realized that there was a lot more debris in the vent and that it was blocking the air flow. And as much as I’m willing to help a bird in need, I’m not keen on the idea of my dryer getting messed up because the vent wasn’t working properly. I started pulling out some of the debris, and a nest popped out suddenly. There were five eggs in it, so I put the nest back in the vent, but not the rest of the debris, and I hoped that Mama would be okay with the new setup and not all upset that some human had been messing with her nest.

Sunday, John came over and we did laundry. When we went outside to play with the dogs, we realized that the air in the vent had pushed the nest out. Sadly, two of the eggs were broken. It never occurred to me that all the other debris was there just to keep the nest in place. I now have the nest – and the remaining three eggs – in one of my plant baskets outside, so it will get the warmth and hopefully be protected from any predators that might want to snack on little bird eggs. With any luck, these three weren’t horribly damaged in the fall and will actually manage to hatch. I’ll deal with the feeding and releasing to the wild issues later...

Tail Tips

My poor Reyna has a wound on the end of her tail that just will not heal. Of course, the reason it won’t heal is because she won’t leave it alone. You’d think she would, because it appears to hurt when she bites down on it, but oh, no, not her.

We went through the first round of antibiotics over a month ago, along with bandaging the end of her tail. The wound was starting to heal, and then she tore the skin off of it. So we started round two of antibiotics, as well as a round of prednisone in case there was itchiness that was making her chew on it, along with bandaging the tail again. As far as I can tell, all the prednisone did was make her eat every scrap of food she could find, including Duncan’s, and the antibiotics made her feel bad. But the wound looked like it was healing again. Then one afternoon, I noticed a couple of small cuts under the injured spot. And the next day, she ripped the skin off again. So what was a nickel size injury is now a nickel with three cuts below it and a gouge running from the top over it across the top of her tail.

And thus began round three of antibiotics, more bandaging, and the added bonus of puppy prozac. My dog has been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (just as a side note, my regular doctor thinks Reyna and I should stop drinking the water – I keep telling him I drink bottled and she drinks tap…). The vet said the puppy prozac shouldn’t change her personality, it should just help distract her from the OCDs. He also said it should take about two weeks to see a real difference, and we’re nearly there. So far, no difference. I’m supposed to call him this Friday with an update, and I have enough pills for two months, so we’ll see.

On top of all this, about six weeks ago she suddenly became very hesitant to jump in the truck. When I realized it was happening every time, I started stressing that now that she’s two, her hips are going bad. The afternoon of August 3 (the same day we went to the vet to get her prozac), she actually fell out of the truck while trying to get in it. Its been pitiful to watch her, because its so obvious that she’s scared to even try. The vet says it may just be a pulled muscle, which would be great, but how do you convince her that she really shouldn’t be chasing her soccer ball at full speed? I’ve seen her limp a few times and show other signs of injury, but she’s not consistent. Most of the time, she acts like she’s just fine. Of course, this is the same dog that didn’t indicate she’d nearly cut off the tip of her tail, and then when I was messing with it, didn’t react at all until I accidentally folded it in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go. And even then, her only reaction was to turn and look at me.

So, anyway, we’re going to try and heal the tail. Again. And then we’ll deal with the potential hip issue. And then I’ll ask for a pay raise so I can pay off the medical bills.

Hippy Hippy Shake

On August 2nd, Duncan and I went to the German Shepherd Club meeting, as we try to do every month. This month’s speaker was a vet from the NCSU Vet School, who specializes in orthopedic problems in dogs. His talk was on osteoarthritis in dogs of all ages, which, while interesting, really isn’t relevant to this particular post.

Duncan was up and down throughout the talk, visiting with folks and trying his hardest to get to a female dog that he likes. Apparently, the vet’s assistant was watching him, and she thought he was having trouble getting up and down, so she asked if I would let the vet look at his back legs. I’m always up for a free hip exam, so I agreed. Duncan’s breeder heard, and she immediately started insisting that he was perfectly fine, just hadn’t grown into his back legs. Which I tend to agree with.

So, the vet watched him trot and then did a quick manual exam of his hips – took maybe a minute. He then announced that Duncan has a disease called genu valgum. He said its mild now, and it might stay mild, or it could cripple him. No way to know without tests. He also said its been a relatively recent discovery in dogs, for vets to recognize it for what it is and diagnose it. A cat scan would apparently prove it, but wouldn’t necessarily show the extent. And for those that are scratching their heads and saying “ge-what?”, genu valgum results in a look that is similar to knock-knees, but instead of the knees coming straight together, the hip is rotated in to some degree. Its caused by a bone growing longer on one side than the other, and the only way to correct it is major surgery that involves cutting out the longer bone, pinning everything together, weeks of recovery, and lots of rehab. Somehow, I don’t think its particularly inexpensive…

While the vet is telling me all of this, the breeder is insisting that everything is fine, he just hasn’t finished growing. Of course, what set her off is that the vet said genu valgum is hereditary. So she’s naturally stressing over the potential for issues with Duncan’s littermates, the litter before his from the same parents, and how to find out which parent might have this gene. The vet also mentioned this might be why Duncan has trouble getting into the truck, although I’m more inclined to think that’s just laziness. But who knows?

After the meeting, I looked genu valgum up on the internet. I found a few articles about it in humans, but nothing much about it in dogs. Since I was at my regular vet’s office the next day, I asked him about it. He’d never heard of it, but he said that this vet is basically God’s gift to canine orthopedics, and that if this vet were to look at his dogs for even 45 seconds (never mind the whole minute Duncan got) he’d take anything he said as the gospel. He did say that he’d probably wait til Duncan is 2 years old and full grown before getting a cat scan, since they would be able to determine the severity a bit better then. So that’s what we’ll do. Sigh.