The inevitable has finally happened. Early this year our family had to face the tough decision to end our young boxer boy’s life. It has taken me till now to finally be able to share. Seems only fitting as February was his estimated birth month.
At the age of 3.5 years, Bronson was afflicted with a seizure disorder. After a lot of guessing and hoping and praying we put him on seizure controlling medication in the hopes to decrease the once a month frequency of the seizures. Over the course of this last year Brony’s seizures made appearances about every 50 or so days. Unfortunately with each appearance the seizures also increased in quantity and intensity. After a particularly harsh cluster in mid-November I really knew we would be facing the “hard choice” when he cycled around again. So I talked about it with Handsome Hubs and Kiddo so they too would have time to accept what turned out to be the inevitable. In the pre-dawn hours of January 7th we were awakened by the now all too familiar sounds of Bronson seizing. As was my protocol, I hit the floor running, grabbed a towel to catch and mop the guaranteed fountain of urine, went into the living room and promptly moved him into a safer place to finish his seizure. As expected, this time was worse than the last. Our sweet boy slowed his seizing, laid on the floor laboriously panting and unresponsive. almost immediately he went into another seizure and then another. Poor boy lay on the rug, resolutely trying to hold his head up, to no avail. So I slid a stool up next to him, sat down and held his head up with my shins. He took SO long to recover from the 3 seizures. Eventually he managed to rise to his feet, stumbled into the kitchen where he walked into the water bowl and then stood, staring blankly ahead. He was still completely unresponsive and shortly after his body tensed with the telltale sign of another seizure coming on. I scooped him up and returned him to the living room, where Hubby had laid a thick blanket out. By this time we really knew we were at that awful point. As his seizing slowed we took turns getting dressed and ready, woke the Kiddo and loaded Bronson up into the truck. He wasn’t actively paddling but he wasn’t ever fully out of the seizure either. His eyes and ears continued to twitch like he was hooked up to a low electrical current. He was unsteady on his feet and barely responding when we said his name and talked to him. At the emergency animal hospital he continued to have small tremors, head shakes. The doctor and tech wasted little time getting Brony ready. We were just saying our goodbyes when his head started to shake with a tremor, the vet swooped in, She and I sat on the cold linoleum floor as I eased Brony into laying down next to me. I held his head, stroked his side and whispered all the words of love and gratitude I could muster through the tears as the vet eased my Baby Boy out of this life.
Never have I had such a mix of emotions over a loss. Living with Bronson and his seizure disorder had been a life of anxiety. Never knowing when he would seize, trying to figure out the triggers, worrying about him becoming aggressive and attacking during an episode, never knowing how bad each cluster would be. The medication schedule was a 12 hour cycle. This meant that every day of every week someone had to be available to give a pill to Brony. This made going out, even for the evening, difficult as we would either have to find someone to pop in and pill pop or we had to plan our outing around his schedule. Being that we were up and out early during the week meant that even on weekends we (read: I) had to be up at the same early hour to dose him. It wasn’t until the days and weeks following his passing that I fully felt the weight of the responsibility that had come with Bronson’s illness. The past 4+ years with Bronson is akin to having a 6 month old puppy the entire time. I never realized how exhausted I was from always having to look out for what was left out, what was in reach and what I could think might tempt him to chew it to pieces.
Living with Bronson was also a lot of fun. This boy never met a person he didn’t LOVE. He was always goofy and happy and cracked us up with his crazy antics. He was always a good sport about being dressed up and laughed at. Class clown 100%. He was there to snuggle you when you were filling down. For a dog, Brony had a great many fans and loves. Many hearts ached the day they heard of the loss.
I loved the boy to bits, more than healthy no doubt, but I just couldn’t not love him so much. Ask The Hubby and Midge and they will both tell you, that dog was MY dog. I called him my boyfriend for the simple reason that if The Handsome Hubby wasn’t in bed next to me or sitting next to me, Bronson surely was.
A big hole has been left in my heart by the loss of my sweet boy.
Sorry, this was an awful long post, I tried whittling the words down and just can’t seem to find a good edit in it.