My dog Bo has epilepsy.  He is eleven years old and this has been going on for five years now.  At first, one pill a week was enough, then two, three, and then a pill every day.  But even with the meds,  he had a seizure.  So now the meds will have to be increased--a temporary fix.  I took him to the vet today for a blood scan to see how much more phenobarbital he can take.  If he can't tolerate any more, well then I will have to consider what will be next.  And I don't want to think of that just now.

Bo was Ken's dog.  He slept with his head on Ken's shoulder and now that Ken is gone, he sleeps with me.  Lately he has been crawling in my lap when I am reading.  He doesn't stay long; he is just looking for some place where he belongs.  I am not exactly the right thing.   But he keeps trying me out.

I never intended to get attached to a dog.  I got Bo because I read an article that said that a dog would help lower your blood pressure and at first, Ken's pressure was high.  It worked.  And of course, I couldn't help but love Bo because he loved Ken.

My daughter Becky had a dog named Maya that was also eleven years old.   A few months ago, Maya had a stroke.  She couldn't stand up or walk or anything and of course Becky had to decide what to do.  "What would you do if this was your dog?" is what she asked the vet.  She knew the answer, but it's easier when someone tells you what is the right thing to do.

Like I said, I don't want to think about that right now.  Maybe more phenobarbital will work.  But the truth is, Bo is lonely and I am not ever going to be exactly what he wants.

I understand how he feels.  It is kinda like the story of Naomi and Ruth when Ruth says: "…intreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you: for whither you go, I will go; and where you lodge, I will lodge.. and where you die, will I die…if ought but death part you and me."  Ruth 1: 16-17

I'll do what I have to do, but, I won't like it.