Seizures and dog biscuits

Sam had a seizure Sunday. He stood at the top of a flight of stairs and stumbled as the seizure began. Fortunately our quick-witted puppy, Mr. Dog, saw him standing precariously and sounded an alert with a loud bark. I was by Sam’s side within a second.

I held Sam safe until the seizure stopped and then carefully sat him down on the stairs, holding him until I was certain he was OK. Certain that he was stable. Mr. Dog stood at attention behind Sam, waiting I am guessing, for the very same assurance.

As the seizure waned, Sam looked at me blankly, unsure of what was going on. He announced his tongue hurt, shook off his confusion and went about the remainder of his day, seemingly unscathed. Crisis averted, Mr. Dog wandered off to resume his nap. Everyone was fine it seemed. Except me.

I couldn’t wipe the “what might have happened” image from my mind. I needed something to refocus. With that in mind, I called Sam to make dog biscuits for Mr. Dog as a reward him for watching Sam so carefully. I hoped the busy work would be distracting. Still, I couldn’t turn my mind off. I kept envisioning what might have happened.

As we worked, I looked over at Sam. He was by my side mixing ingredients, helping me roll the dough then methodically cutting the biscuits into bone shapes. He sang happily as he placed them neatly on the pan. I admired his serenity as he approached the task at hand.

That is how it is with Sam. He lives mostly in the immediate. What is past is past. The future is the future. His places his attention squarely on what surrounds him. He compelled me to join him in the present; drawing my attention to a happy moment I would have otherwise missed. He provided the grace note to get me through the difficult thoughts.

I looked around again. Calm permeated the room. Sam was safe. A phone call to the doctor would be made on Monday morning. The biscuits were in the oven. Mr. Dog was sniffing something good in the air. We were lucky today. Lucky indeed.     


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