Weevil’s having seizures. I knew it was happening, but I didn’t admit it to myself. But today, I witnessed one for the first time. They’re caused by his enlarged heart.
I called Dr. Felix and I cried. He listened. He listened because he knew I know what seizures mean. He listened because he knew that’s all I needed. To talk to someone who loves them as much as I do.
Tom told me Weevil had been having muscle cramps in the morning; that his legs would stiffen and curl up, that he’d fall over sideways. He was just trying to protect me. He knows I take it harder than most. He knows that when one of my babies are hurting or sick, that my heart hurts with them. I made myself believe it, too. Because silly muscle cramps are so much easier to comprehend than a seizure. You can fix muscle cramps.
He had a seizure this morning. I heard a thud from behind me. He fell off the couch and I dropped everything I had in my hands and grabbed him. I held him and I cried. I talked to him and rubbed his side. After about a minute, he was okay. But I wasn’t. He licked my tears away because that’s what dogs do. They are selfless little creatures that God sends us to show us how to act. He licked my tears and Tom came home from work and hugged us both. We ate lunch, but gave most of it to Weevil, because that little champ deserved it.
“I wish he wasn’t sick.”
“Me too, babe.”
“I’d give him my heart if I could.”
“I know, sweetie. I would too.”
I love him so much.
I try to prepare myself for the morning he won’t wake me up with that cold, wet nose in my ear.
I try to prepare myself for finding his fur on furniture when he’s not there anymore.
For leaving trash bags on the floor and having them stay unharmed.
His empty chair at the dinner table.
Those ears. I don’t ever want to forget how soft they are.
It’s hard knowing someone you love is very sick and you can’t do anything.