I don't mean to go all Anthony Robbins, but there are two ways to look at this picture. A toy all ripped apart (which it is), or a sunshine shaped toy with clouds surrounding it.

It's been nearly 3 months since Trinity had her first seizure at my house in Lakewood. When I walked in the house after taking Mira out for her morning restroom break, I found Trinity seizing hard on the living room floor. At first, my voice was strong. "What's going on, Trinity? Come on. Get up." Then I lost control. I thought she was dying and I felt helpless. I pleaded with her to stop. I called Jon. He said I was hysterical. He talked me down from the ledge so that I could help her.

And that was my first experience with a dog who has seizures.

She is nearly 7 years old. Still young. She should be young. But instead she is made old by whatever is causing these seizures. Or maybe she is made old by the seizures themselves.

This morning I awoke at 3:30 a.m. to the smell of dog feces. In the middle of the night, she had defecated and then stumbled through it. When I finally came to full consciousenss, I could see her in the corner, panting. She always hated having accidents in the house. It was so hard not to yell in frustration at having to clean the carpet in the middle of the night. It was so hard to not find a way to blame myself or to get angry with her, which would only lead to guilt later.

I called Jon and he suggested that I bring the dogs to his house for a vacation day. They could play outside in the sun while I work. We talked about putting her down. He suggested that she spend a day outside and then maybe after work.... I can't do it. I couldn't go to work and be normal all day (which I would have to be) and then go home and walk my dog into a gas chamber. That's what it feels like. I feel so terrible.

So, I decided not to do that. I am not ready. I hope she forgives me if she is ready. I am trying to read the signs. I am trying to understand when is enough and when we are still companions and when I am making her life better.

On my way to Jon's house this evening to check on the dogs, I thought a lot about Trinity. From 10 months on she was a very protective dog and pretty much dog aggressive. While her behavior was sometimes alarming (I felt like I owned a junk yard dog when out on the trail), I really apprecite how safe she made me feel. I knew that Trinity would let nothing happen to me. Mountain Lion, bear, and creepy people who may want to serial kill me. I sometimes wonder if she protects me so much because of her undying love or because I am her "object". Her belonging. I wold like to think it's a mixture of both.

I never knew how much I needed protection until now...when I find myself being the protetor...and feeling lost without mine. I miss her so much.