He…

When He first came in from playing in the yard, I didn’t notice anything might be wrong.  I hadn’t been feeling well for a few hours, so at the time I certainly wasn’t the sharpest tack in the drawer.  A few moments later, however, it became clear that He was in distress.  Having seen more seizures than I cared to see last Spring, my immediate thought was that history was repeating itself.   As He frenetically rolled on the floor, his breathing became labored, his back arched and He was pawing at the air.  In the time it took me to cross the room and kneel at his side, I had figured out that it was not a seizure wracking his twisted white body, but that He was choking.  Both of his paws began clawing at his mouth, his eyes full of panic as He struggled to breath.  At first, He resisted me, and He fought my hands as I tried to look in his mouth.  And then…our eyes made contact, and I felt his body relax.  I was there to help.  He knew it, and He let me.  When it was all said and done, I held a stick over two inches long in my hand, and He was licking my face.  Then off He went in typical bouncy Golden fashion, hell bent on attacking his brother and chewing on his ears.  With the Man away visiting his family in Georgia, I settled in with a fire in the stove, and a scary movie qued up on the telly.  Soon though, the mild flu-like symptoms I had been feeling all day decided that they had different plans for my evening.  First the cramps, then the sweating, nausea and dizziness.  And then I got hot..very hot.  Drenched in sweat, with who knows how high a temp at the time and naked as the day I was born, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor of the bathroom in search of relief.  I was dehydrated, weak, no strength to move, and with the Man not due home for another three days, I was alone and starting to worry more than just a little bit.   And then…there He was.  I opened my eyes to see four white legs towering over me.  He laid beside me, his paw in my hand, and He gently licked my face and looked me in the eye.  He was there to help.  I knew it, and I let him.  How long we laid there together on the floor, I do not know.  But I do know that He did not leave my side until the fever broke and I could again stand without fear of passing out.  I was actually a tad relieved when He did finally trot away to annoy his brother, because then I knew that at least I was no longer at risk of dying, at least in his eyes.  In the days since that night, life on the Farm has carried on, with the Man returning home, and the days starting to feel warmer…and a much stronger bond with a young dog named Sebastian…