He’s well! No more seizures thus far, so we’re assuming, unless and until it happens again, that it was heat-induced. Fucking summer. I hate July, and I think July hates my dog. He’s been relaxing with Beth and hanging out in the bedroom — his favorite room — and just being cool. Pedialyte pops have been nommed, but it’s cooled off a bunch here — we’ve dropped ten degrees during the hot part of the day — and with the new fan, the bedroom feels like it’s air-conditioned. Which, we may end up getting one before next summer.
We are extremely relieved that the dog is doing better. The dog is mostly annoyed at our watching him so closely, and happy to not be doused with water at such regular intervals.
Thank you, everyone, for your prayers. And, obviously, our thanks to our Gods, who I think are as stupid about this dog as we are . . .