Living With An Epileptic Mastiff
I am
writing this article about a subject that I feel as a club
we need to be very concerned about. This the subject of
Epilepsy in Mastiffs.
My first
contact with Kristen Dixon was back in 1997. Kristen, as
some of you may know, is the Chairperson for the MCOA Epilepsy
Subcommittee. We have never met personally, but we soon
became familiar with each other over the Internet. We had
many "crying sessions" together as we discussed
the heartbreaking stories of our wonderful Mastiffs who
were both suffering from the same affliction, seizures.
My dog Bozwell was diagnosed with Idiopathic Epilepsy. At
that time, Kristen’s boy Mason was diagnosed with
Epilepsy also. It wasn’t until many months and much
turmoil later that Kristen learned that Mason was misdiagnosed,
and that in fact had another serious illness in which Mason’s
seizures were a secondary symptom. However, throughout her
ordeal with Mason, she came to understand the agony of living
and caring for a Mastiff with a seizure disorder. It was
because of these experiences that we both shared, that Kristen
asked me to write an article about my beloved Mastiff Bozwell.
Kristen was also instrumental in organizing the MCOA Epilepsy
Subcommittee. I hope the following story will give those
of you with and or without an Epileptic Mastiff, courage
and hope that we may find a cure for this devastating illness
in our wonderful breed. This story is dedicated in Loving
Memory of Mason and Bozwell.
When
I think back on the experiences I had with Bozwell, "Boz"
for short, it sometimes feels like eons ago and other times
like just yesterday. It has taken me a long time to be able
to sit down and put those memories on paper. Though I think
about Boz on a daily basis, and these days those memories
are more happy then sad, the thoughts of recalling all we
went through together in those long 6 months of his illness
seemed overwhelming to me.
Boz
was not our first Mastiff. We had a wonderful Mastiff girl
named Tory. She started our addiction to the breed. Soon
after Tory came into our lives, it wasn’t long before
my husband Tom and I craved for another Mastiff. As I tell
folks when they get their first Mastiff, be careful, you
can’t have just one. That is when we brought home
our new bouncing baby boy Boz. He was the picture of a happy
healthy Mastiff puppy. All those who came in contact with
Boz instantly fell in love with him. I know, we all say
that about our dogs, but Boz did seem to have that little
extra spark in his personality that just made everyone think
he was special. There wasn’t a man, woman, child or
other living creature that Boz didn’t like.
When
we purchased Boz we had decided we wanted to learn to show
him. I had always wanted to learn to show and Boz was bought
as a show quality pup. Soon we were taking handling classes
together and learning the ropes in the ring. He put up with
his Mom’s nervous ring manners and soon he was running
around the ring like a Champ. We didn’t always win
the first prize ribbon, but we always had lots of fun. Boz
enjoyed showing and he especially enjoyed all the attention
lavished upon him at the shows. Judges and spectators alike
would always make comments about how "energetic and
happy he looked in the ring". He also was a bit of
a clown in the ring. This either worked for us or against
us depending upon the sense of humor of the judge on that
particular day. The day Boz finished his Championship was
one of my happiest moments. My first show dog, finished,
totally owner handled. We finished his Championship in our
hometown; so many friends were there to congratulate us.
My husband and I couldn’t have felt prouder. But soon
this elation would come to an end.
Two
days after Boz finished his Championship, 2 months after
his second birthday, while we were still basking in the
"Glory of Championship", our lives changed forever.
In the still quiet of the early morning, I was awoken to
a commotion on my bed. Boz always got up in bed with me
in the morning after my husband would leave for work. This
particular morning I was awoken to a violent shaking of
my bed. As I finally woke up, thinking I must be having
some kind of dream, I realized I was waking up to my worse
nightmare. Boz was having a grand mal seizure. Being a nurse
by trade, my mind knew what was happening but my heart was
in a panic. I screamed for help, and the only ones who could
hear me were my three children who were getting themselves
ready for school. They ran to the bedroom to witness Boz’s
giant body shake itself off my bed and hit the floor with
a loud thud. That vision still haunts me. My other dog,
Tory, was on the bed with us at this time. At this point
my kids were very frightened and crying. There is absolutely
nothing worse then seeing one of these giant dogs having
a seizure. The whole episode lasted about two minutes, though
it seemed much longer. When Boz came out of the seizure
he appeared to be in a daze. I would learn later that this
was a normal post-ictal phase that happens after a seizure.
It may last minutes to hours depending on the severity of
the seizure. During this phase the dog may be blind and
or deaf and very disoriented. During this period Boz sat
up and just stared blankly and made a low growling noise.
This too was very frightening because I had never heard
any growl come out of this dog’s mouth in the two
years of his life. Tory was looking at Boz strangely and
I was fearful that she might interpret Boz’s behavior
as aggression so I quickly got her off the bed and out my
bedroom along with my then hysterical children. I too was
in a major state of panic. I kept talking to Boz and petting
him and trying to let him know I was there, while still
trying to absorb what was happening. I kept saying that
this must be a nightmare and I was hoping to wake up. Unfortunately
that would not be the case.
This
was the beginning of a 6 month long battle of what was diagnosed
as Idiopathic Epilepsy. After the first seizure Boz was
taken to the vet and worked up for any other cause of a
seizure. For example, such things as poisoning, metabolic
imbalance, cardiac problems could all contribute to possibilities
of seizure activity. However, all of these tests were negative.
According to my vet, Idiopathic Epilepsy is typically diagnosed
around two years of age. It is categorized as seizures of
unknown origin. It could be caused by something that happened
at birth, but is more likely genetically transmitted. In
short, you have a totally happy, healthy appearing dog until
one day, bang out of the blue, seizures.
Initially,
the vet decided to take the least invasive approach. Send
us home and observe. I was instructed to keep a daily diary
of Boz’s behavior and any seizure activity. We decided
not to start Boz on medications until we could see what
type of pattern the seizures took on. If we were really
lucky, he may never have another seizure at all. Unfortunately,
we would not be that lucky. Boz started out having one seizure
a month for a few months. As seizures usually do, they seem
to take on a kind of pattern. His seemed to come during
the full moon, and always upon waking in the morning. It
was during this time that I came to understand the type
of connection Boz and I had with each other. I always felt
a special bond with this dog. More so than any other dog
I had ever owned before him. I related this bond to the
connection we made with each other during our "career"
in the show ring. Being my first show dog, we traveled together
all the time and were very "in tune" with each
other. When Boz became ill that connection became very deep.
So deep that I instinctively knew when Boz was going to
have a seizure. I didn’t realize this at first, and
only thought it was coincidental. But as time passed, I
saw the pattern. I would wake up out of a sound sleep just
seconds before he would have a seizure. It was very strange,
but I was always thankful that I was awake and able to be
prepared to help him through the seizures that wracked his
body.
The
seizures were very frightening, and though experts say,
"that the dog isn’t aware of what is happening
during the actual seizure," before the actual seizure
occurs, there is a pre-seizure phase, also called an aura.
During this phase the dog may exhibit bizarre behavior and
have feelings of restlessness and apprehension. The post-seizure
phase can last for hours. Because of "our connection"
I was always able to hold him and talk to him through the
seizures. As the months passed, Boz’s seizures became
more violent and more frequent. After the first three months
or so he started to have cluster seizures. This is when
you have multiple seizures one after another. At this point
the vet started Boz on medication. Because the medication
used to control seizures is metabolized in the liver, and
can have an affect on liver function, the medication is
given in the most minimal dose it can be that is effective
in controlling the seizures. However, it is also dosed by
the weight of the animal. Therefore, in Mastiffs, it is
a pretty high dose. Again, the vet started Boz on the lowest
possible dose, but soon had to increase the dose to control
the seizures. The medication used on Boz was Phenobarbital.
At that time that was the popular drug of choice for controlling
seizures in dogs. Another drug that was beginning to be
used was Potassium Bromide. My vet had decided however,
to start out conservatively, and just use the one drug first.
I have since learned that using a combination of the two
drugs together has been more successful in lowering the
toxicity effects of the drug therapy.
Just
having a dog on Phenobarbital is a challenge. It is a central
nervous system depressant, so your dog needs to build up
a tolerance to it. While the dog’s system is getting
used to the drug he may be lethargic, unsteady on his feet
and sleep a lot. I slowly saw my dog’s wonderful personality
fading. The vet told me that after a while Boz’s body
would acclimate to the drug and he would be more like his
old self. In the mean time Boz’s seizures again became
more frequent. When this happens, the risk of Status Epilepticus
becomes greater. This is a condition where your dog could
seize and not stop. This is a true medical emergency.
I can’t
even begin to express the constant anxiety that the owner
of a dog with Epilepsy deals with on a daily basis. And
if your dog is a Mastiff the challenge is much greater.
I did not want to leave my house. I lived in constant fear
of Boz having a seizure when I was at work or not at home
and I wouldn’t be there to help him. I was fearful
that he would injure himself during the seizure. These visions
would go through my head constantly while I was away from
home. But what could I do? I couldn’t quit my job.
God knew we needed the money to pay for the veterinary bills
that were piling up. I lined up dog friends to call that
would come to my house and help me in case Boz should go
into Status and I couldn’t pick him up and get him
into our van to rush him to the vet. These are the constant
fears that you live with. Not to mention the sick feeling
you get every time you see your beautiful giant of a dog
hit the floor with his whole body convulsing violently.
Because Boz’s seizures almost always happened in the
early morning, he would usually be in our bedroom, which
was upstairs. We live in a 120-year-old farmhouse, which
has a very steep set of stairs to get down. As luck would
have it, I almost always was home alone with Boz when the
seizures would strike and would always have to worry about
getting him down those steep stairs.
One
morning in early April, I awoke to Boz’s seizure.
As soon as the seizure was over I managed to get him down
the stairs. No sooner did I get him down and into the kitchen,
another seizure started. During these seizures, the dog
also empties their bowel and bladder. Again, I was home
alone. This particular morning the seizure activity seemed
more violent and closer together. Having learned about status,
I knew that if the dog went into status, his temperature
could rise to a dangerous level and he could die. The advise
for this is to try and get the dog packed in ice or in as
cold a place as possible. That morning Boz had seven seizures
in a half hour period. I live in upstate NY and we still
had some snow on the ground and it was fairly cold out.
My first instinct was to get him outside into the snow.
I also called a "dog friend" who lived a few houses
down from me to come and help me get Boz into my van. My
vet’s office was approximately 50 miles from my home,
so I knew I had to get him into the van and get there as
soon as possible. Because Boz’s seizures that morning
were so violent and close together, the post-ictal blindness
and confusion was very severe. He couldn’t see me
at all, and seemed very scared and confused. I kept talking
to him and stroking him, hoping that he could at least hear
me or smell me and would know that I was there with him
and trying to help him. My friend Dee and I managed to get
him into the van so I could get him to the vet.
At the
Vet, IV Valium was started to control and prevent more seizures.
A Phenobarbital level was drawn, and his dose increased.
The main goal at this point was to prevent him from going
into Status. My vet wanted to keep him overnight for observation,
but since they did not have twenty-four observation staff
coverage, I pleaded with them to let me take him home and
watch him myself. I felt no one could care for him like
"his Mommy". (Since Boz’s illness, I am
happy to say my vet’s office now has a twenty-four
hour observation staff). Because I was a nurse and they
trusted me, I was allowed to take home IV Valium and administer
it as needed to control his seizures.
That
night Boz and I slept together on the floor, since he was
too weak to go upstairs. When a seizure would start I would
administer the Valium through an IV heplock taped to his
leg. Within about 24 hours we were able to get the seizures
under control, but Boz was so weak he needed help getting
up and going to the bathroom. Again, a challenge with a
180-pound dog. Within a few days he was weaned off the Valium
and stable.
I can’t
begin to tell you the toll this illness took on us as a
family and on my beautiful boy. Again, my life was a daily
ritual of being sure he had his medication and keeping a
constant vigil to observe for any signs of seizure activity.
Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t concentrate on anything
else except Boz and his illness. By the end of April things
seemed to be better. Boz was beginning to act like his old
self and I was starting to let my guard down a little.
During
this time there were other stresses in my life. My father
had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer at the end
of March. He was given 2-8 weeks to live. Because of Boz’s
and my close connection, Boz could always tell when I was
upset. Many nights I would come home from my father’s
house (we were caring for him at home) and I would sit down
and cry and Boz would come and crawl in my lap with his
head snuggled against me. He gave me as much love and comfort
as I could ever give him.
My father
passed away in early May. I had gone to my parent’s
home to spend the last hours with my father. My husband
stayed home with the kids and the dogs. I hated leaving
Boz for that long. As I said earlier, I never felt like
anyone could care for him the way his Momma did. But I left
explicit instructions with my husband on giving him his
medication and watching for seizures. (Ironically, my husband
only ever witnessed one seizure from Boz, a mild one at
that, due to the fact that his seizures always came in the
early morning after my husband left for work). I came home
once during that forty-eight hour period to take a shower
and change my clothes. That particular day, I knew when
I came through the door that something didn’t "feel
right". After a few moments I realized what it was.
Boz did not meet me at the door. I called for him and he
slowly came to greet me. I of course was stressed to the
max. At this point my father had gone in to a coma, and
we knew it was just a matter of hours before the end. Boz
did not seem himself at all. He seemed lethargic and depressed.
I thought maybe he was reacting to my stress. Unfortunately
I did not have a lot of time to dwell on this. I took a
shower and got ready to return to my parent’s home.
I pleaded with my husband to keep an extra special eye on
Boz and call me if anything should happen. My husband called
me paranoid and said not to worry he would be okay. I left
my house with an uneasy feeling.
My father
passed away the following morning at four a.m. I returned
home that day to find Boz not eating well and still acting
strange. However, no seizure activity was noted. As the
day wore on, Boz stopped eating and was not even drinking.
This was Memorial Day weekend, and my vet’s office
was closed for the holiday. However, they did have a twenty-four
hour on call service, so I called the vet and explained
my situation. I told the vet about my father passing away,
and how I thought maybe Boz was just picking up on my emotions.
He agreed that could be the case but I was welcome to bring
him in if it would relieve my anxiety. We of course decided
to make the fifty-mile trip to the vet’s office. The
vet did a thorough exam on Boz and also ruled out bloat,
(my other big fear). He sent us home with instructions to
call anytime if things got worse. To make a long story short,
by the end of that weekend, we had made two more trips back
and forth to the vet. The last trip being at 2 a.m. in the
morning, when I couldn’t get Boz to even stand on
his feet. The vet met us at the office. Upon exam he said
he thought his spleen felt somewhat enlarged. He took an
x-ray and called in another vet for a second opinion. The
general consensus was that they needed to do exploratory
surgery to assess what was going on with him.
Having
just lost my father less then 24 hours before, I cried and
pleaded with my vet not to let me lose my dog. (Nothing
like putting a little added pressure on my vet). By three
a.m. the vet had a surgical team ready and Boz’s surgery
began. The vet came out an hour later and told me that Boz’s
spleen was extremely enlarged and that his blood cell count
was very low. He had to remove his spleen. During surgery,
even his capillary vessels were hemorrhaging each time he
even tried to suture him. Boz had lost a lot of blood, and
his platelets (blood clotting mechanism) were also extremely
low. The vet asked me to call some of my "Mastiff friends"
to see if they could bring one of their dogs in so we could
give Boz a blood transfusion. One of my dearest friends,
Terri, owned a half brother to Boz. We called her at four
a.m., (she also lived an hour away). She immediately put
her boy Jake in the car and brought him to the vet. Jake
donated two pints of blood to Boz, and now all we could
do was wait and hope for the best. Boz stayed at the vet
for about one week after surgery. During this time, more
tests were done, and it seemed that Boz had some sort of
autoimmune illness. The origin of the autoimmune illness
was still unknown. Boz was started on steroid therapy to
counter act the autoimmune process.
Through
out Boz’s illness, I gained support from my many friends
who knew and loved Boz and also from many people whom I
met over the Internet, who too had dog’s suffering
from Epilepsy. It amazed me to learn how many Epileptic
dogs there were out there. I was also shocked to learn how
many were Mastiffs.
From
early May till the end of June we saw a steady decline in
our beautiful boy. The steroid therapy took a huge toll
on his mind and body. During some of my research, I had
read an article about how Phenobarbital can cause a secondary
autoimmune process due to the toxicity to the liver. I immediately
told my vet that I wanted Boz off the Phenobarbital. My
vet practice also does some holistic medicine. One of the
vets specialized in acupuncture. We began acupuncture treatments
on Boz and even had Gold Bead implants done. Ironically,
through out the whole autoimmune illness Boz never had one
seizure. I was thankful for that. Along with the Phenobarbital,
we asked that they start weaning Boz from the steroid therapy.
Again, as I said, the medication was taking its toll. The
steroids caused such muscle weakness, that Boz could barely
stand up to urinate or have a bowel movement. Remember,
as I stated earlier, all the medications are based on weight.
In a Mastiff, this calls for larger doses. My husband and
I struggled every day to make a decision on what to do.
We did not want to see our boy live his life like this.
This was not the Boz we knew and loved. Through out all
of this turmoil however, Boz never showed a sign of agitation.
He let us do everything we had to do with him. The vets
were amazed at how well he behaved, even during the acupuncture
sessions. He would even wag his tail at the vets, somehow
knowing that we all were working towards making him well.
The poor boy had more needles in one month than most dogs
have in a lifetime. During this time, the vets continued
to give us hope that he could get better. I held onto that
hope for dear life.
On the
early morning of July 2nd 1997, Boz’s fight for life
ended. We had begun the weaning of the steroids about a
week earlier. I noticed that morning that Boz looked weaker
then usual. I decided I was going to take him down to Cornell
University to see if they could do anything more for us.
I called my neighbor down the road, the same one who had
assisted me before when Boz had his multiple seizures. That
is when I think I got a wake up call. When my friend saw
him she couldn’t believe how bad he looked. I knew
by the look on her face that things were really bad. My
mind up until that point just did not want to see what was
really in front of me. We got him into my van, and I called
the vet on my way. It was just Boz and I in the van. He
was in his mesh crate, so it was hard for me to be able
to see him. I stopped once to get gas and to check on him.
He was standing in his crate wagging his tail. I told him
to hang on just a bit longer, that we would be at the vet’s
soon. I continued to talk to him while I was driving. Suddenly
the car took on an eerie silence. I was getting ready to
go through the Thruway tollbooth, when something told me
to pull over and check on him again. When I opened his crate
my beautiful boy was gone. My first thought was to try and
resuscitate him. But then again, reality set in. This was
for the best. The last gift Boz gave me, knowing me as he
did, was to "let go" on his own. It was as if
he knew his Mom didn’t have the heart to do it for
him. Looking back, I wonder now, if I would do things differently.
If I have only one regret, due to my inability to let go,
Boz’s suffering went on for too long.
I hope
you can forgive the long windedness of this story. But I
felt it was the only way I could tell it. Epilepsy is a
devastating illness. It needs to be taken seriously in our
breed. There are many times I remember saying, and God knows
I don’t ever wish to deal with this in any of my dogs,
but I would say, I could handle cancer, I could handle blindness,
or many other disorders. But Epilepsy is so unpredictable
and heart wrenching to observe. And, it has other effects
on the dog besides just the actual seizures. I hope we as
a group can put as much time and energy into finding a cure
for this disease as we do on other genetic disorders.
For
more information on Epilepsy in Mastiffs, please visit the
website dedicated to helping to find a cure at: http://mastiff.org/exhibit-hall/health/epi.mvAlso,
if you presently have or ever had a Mastiff with Epilepsy,
our committee is seeking blood samples and pedigrees to
study. All information sent to both of the studies at the
website above is totally confidential and both studies are
free.
