From long experience of a fitting dog, I’m less anguished during a seizure now than when my Boxer dog Gregory took his first fit more than three years ago. In the early days I worried his legs would break as they thrashed about violently, I thought he might swallow his tongue, or even die during a fit.
In short time I realised Gregory’s fits were predictable, in frequency, duration, and pattern. And I learned how to cope with worst case scenarios.
From day one I kept a diary of his fits, which occurred every 14 days or so, almost to the day. Invariably there’d be three separate fits, extending overall to half an hour or so followed by a couple of hours of Gregory pacing the floor, panting, drinking, and eating everything in sight.
