With four dogs and three cats demanding around-the-clock attention, it’s easy to overlook the one that needs you the most. The silent one suffers while the rest of the crew, nuzzling for affection, stays at your feet. That is often the case with our dog Bourbon, a Catahoula Australian shepherd mix passed onto my husband and me as a puppy. He was around a year old when he experienced his first seizure. At the time, I didn’t recognize the signs. On our walks through the neighborhood, he would stop and focus on something directly in front of him, often a mailbox or signpost. Pulling on his leash and repeatedly calling his name failed to move him out of this fugue state immediately. He would stare intensely like he was unaware of his surroundings. I began to worry something was wrong, but Bourbon loved his walks.

He would race to the door before I could, waiting for me to grab his leash and hook it on his collar. He was always harnessed because he was a regular magician, pulling his fuzzy brown head out of a collar. I didn’t want to stop taking him for his walks. My husband thought I was overreacting. It was easier for me to believe I was overreacting until Bourbon’s brief fugue state turned into his chomping and foaming at the mouth. It was springtime, and the temperature was tolerable. Though humid, it was in the eighties. I provided water. When the foaming continued, I quit taking him on walks and worried that he was overexcited or had high anxiety. I wasn’t far off in my assumptions about the excitability part.

Bourbon experienced his first grand mal seizure shortly after our walking days. We were in the house when he flopped on his side, and his whole body began convulsing.

Disclaimer

I am not a veterinarian, vet tech, or medical professional. I am sharing this post to highlight my experience and what I have learned as a pet parent. If you find errors or believe any information needs to be corrected, contact me at lessonsfrompets@gmail.com. If you think your dog has a medical condition, consult a veterinarian. If you feel your dog has a medical emergency, seek support from an emergency vet.

Andrea Fischer and Holger Andreas Volk published in Frontiers in Veterinary Sciences wrote the following about the disorder,

There you have it: excitability in the brain. Please note that I hold a Masters Degree in Library and Information Sciences. I am not a veterinarian or animal expert in any way, so I’m merely stating research throughout this piece.

I recognized Bourbon’s first seizure then. I’d seen people have seizures, but someone else helped them. I had no clue as to what I should do when Bourbon’s entire body jerked violently in front of me. I acted on instinct, protecting him, or so I thought, by covering him with my own body, hugging him close to me like a child in danger in an active shooter situation. His body convulsed. A terrible wave of convulsions wracked his young body. My heart shattered.

The Most Recognized Seizure

Bourbon’s violent jerking convulsions were what is called a grand mal seizure or a “generalized” seizure, meaning their is a surplus of electrical activity on both sides of the brain. Loss of consciousness, falling onto his side, jerking limbs, and foaming at the mouth were all signs of a grand mal or “tonic-clonic” seizure. Some dogs experience bladder and bowel incontinence. Found at https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/riney-canine-health-center/canine-health-information/managing-seizures

What does all this mean to me? I know that the brain is divided into left and right hemispheres. Bourbon’s entire brain was a flurry of activity, working overtime, and he was not in control of his body. All his movements, the stiffness preceding his jerking limbs, an open mouth that could have bitten me.

After Bourbon’s first seizure was over, I was terrified. All the signs I mentioned to my husband were not a figment of my imagination. They’d likely led up to this. Why hadn’t I set aside my doubts and taken him to the veterinarian’s office sooner? It’s easier to second-guess yourself than face something that could be wrong with a loved one.

I dismissed Bourbon’s staring at signposts for longer than usual as he picked up another dog’s scent. We have plenty of dog walkers in the neighborhood. I told myself Bourbon couldn’t take the heat when he chomped or “clacked his jaw.” His thick Aussie coat was excess insulation.

After the first wave rolled over him, another started. I waited for the seizure to subside and acted quickly. I loaded him onto the back floorboard of my jeep. I didn’t know what to expect. Would he have another seizure? In retrospect, the floorboard wasn’t the safest place, but I’m not sure there was one. The crate I had at the time was massive and not easy to lift into the jeep’s hatch. The floorboard made sense because Bourbon could have rolled off the seat, hitting his head. The passenger side seat would have put us both in danger. It could have resulted in a head injury on the dash or a wreck because of another alarming seizure distracting me. Bourbon needed me, and I had to be clear-headed.

I checked on Bourbon at stoplights and softly reassured him that he would be alright. I made a hands-free call to the emergency vet clinic to verify they were open on the weekends. They were. I would drive anywhere, Bourbon’s sake.

Throughout this time, he looked exhausted, which I would learn is called the “postictal” phase of the seizure.

Three Phases of a Seizure in Dogs

Sometimes, I look at Bourbon and wonder if he’s about to have another seizure. There are three phases of a canine seizure. The dog may act differently in the “aural phase” preceding the seizure. The signs may be barely perceptible.

If Bourbon acted any differently before the seizure, I don’t recall. Was Bourbon extra clingy in the time leading up to his seizures? Did he appear nervous? He may have been hiding from Max, his other canine companion, but I don’t recall specifics. At the time, I didn’t know anything about seizures other than what I’d seen, and frankly, they terrified me.

Phase two is called the “ictal phase” and is the phase in which the seizure occurs. It can last seconds to several minutes. A seizure lasting too long could indicate “Status epileptics,” which can be fatal.

Phase Three is the “postictal phase” after the seizure. Bourbon was exhausted, wobbly, and showed signs of confusion.

Pet Health Network says, “Your dog may seem restless, uncoordinated, and/or disoriented.” They also go as far as to say that the dog can sometimes develop “temporary blindness, deafness, or other neurologic abnormalities may occur.” https://www.pethealthnetwork.com/dog-health/dog-diseases-conditions-a-z/canine-epilepsy

Bottom line, if you suspect your pet may have epilepsy, bring them to a veterinarian. Neurological disorders are severe and may be permanent. Watching Bourbon’s seizure scared me, but I knew that he needed me.

What To Do For Your Dog During a Seizure

As I said before, my first instinct to hug and protect Bourbon was a mistake. What I should have done was move the coffee table over and clear the area so he didn’t sustain a head injury. Never hug or get too close to the dog. Bourbon wasn’t even aware of what was happening to him. He could’ve bitten me. It would have been a disaster to steer a jeep without my dominant hand, much less load a forty-seven-pound dog in the backseat.

The first question the veterinarian asked was how long the seizure lasted. I didn’t think to time it. Count the seconds and keep a log. That’s what I have to do now. A seizure that lasts more than five minutes could be a severe and fatal condition called “status epilepticus.” The overwhelming intensity of the activity, the “violence” in it, causes an increase in core temperature. If the dog overheats, they could die. It would be the same as a severe fever left untreated.

I didn’t think to time Bourbon’s seizures at the time, but I knew that they had not lasted that long. What concerned me was that he had two in less than twenty-four hours. More than one in the short window of an hour, which led me to the next question: what is the cause?

What Causes Epilepsy

The only way to confirm the diagnosis is to rule out other causes. Spending a fortune with the veterinarian neurologist didn’t go well with my husband. We did take Bourbon, and to our surprise, the doctor worked with us. Although we could have paid for an expensive magnetic resonance imaging test to rule out potential causes, we didn’t. Bourbon’s young age and the knowledge that there may be nothing to rule out in testing led me to opt out of the latter. Why spend a ton of money we didn’t have and discover nothing was causing it? Bourbon had not ingested toxins, and he hadn’t been injured. A tumor or the diagnosis of cancer, to be honest, would have devastated me, and I was prepared to break out my credit card for Bourbon despite my husband’s objections if the vet had said it was necessary. He didn’t.

Idiopathic is what the veterinarians call it. In other words, Bourbon’s epilepsy might not have a known cause. Certain dog breeds appear genetically susceptible to the disorder. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC9257283/

My husband and I accepted the possibility that Bourbon’s seizures could be idiopathic. Fortunately, in the years that have followed, he has not shown signs of cancer or disease that would have caused seizures

From what I've read, a tonic or clonic seizure can start in one hemisphere of the brain as a partial seizure and become generalized, involving both hemispheres. The difference here is that a partial, involving one half of the brain, could explain the focal seizures where Bourbon continuously stared at the signposts.

When the seizure progressed, involving the second half of his brain, it became generalized. Bourbon flopped onto his side and began to convulse or “twitch.”

I wondered what the treatment for seizures was. I want my dog to live his best and most comfortable life. While Bourbon was unaware of the seizure itself and probably didn’t feel pain, he was drained afterward.

When Medicine is Prescribed

Bourbon had medicine while at the emergency vet clinic, but what about when he went home? Bourbon had experienced two seizures in a twenty-four-hour period, called “cluster seizures,” I learned. Also, while there, I mentioned that I had stopped taking Bourbon for walks. I informed the vet of his strange behavior. He was immovable as he stared at the signposts. He foamed at the mouth. He worked his jaw as he foamed. All were signs of a seizure. Bourbon would need treatment to lessen the frequency or the intensity of the seizures.

Hummel and Trueman Hospital for Companion Animals at Ohio State University recommend anti-seizure medications when“ your pet has an average of two or more seizures per month, has one seizure that is very prolonged (more than five minutes), or has seizures which occur in a "cluster" (two or more seizures in one 24 hour period).” https://vet.osu.edu/vmc/companion/our-services/neurology-and-neurosurgery/more-epilepsy

Medication isn’t a guarantee. The doses may be changed or additional therapy added to aid the primary medication.

The veterinarian prescribed phenobarbital, which would require regular blood work to monitor the drug in his system. This concerned me. What happens if we forget a dose? The medication would need to be given at specific times. Ignoring a dose could cause a rebound or “withdrawal” seizures. Phenobarbital causes chemical dependence. If the levels in the blood rise enough, it can cause liver damage.https://www.merckvetmanual.com/pharmacology/systemic-pharmacotherapeutics-of-the-nervous-system/maintenance-anticonvulsant-or-antiepileptic-therapy?query=phenobarbital

Phenobarbital works for many pets. I know pet parents who administer the medicine to their dogs and have had no adverse reactions. The idea of liver damage alarmed me. Bourbon would need to take it at the exact same time daily for the rest of his life.

After about two weeks on Phenobarbital, Bourbon could barely hold himself upright. I had to make sure he didn’t fall on his way outside to the bathroom. He didn’t even act like himself anymore. He lived to sleep. I requested something with fewer side effects, and that didn’t have to be given on a stringent daily time frame. Phenobarbital may be the first in a line of drugs vets choose for epilepsy, but I was certain there were better options.

1. Our regular veterinarian weaned Bourbon off of the Phenobarbital and started him on Levetiracetam, also known as Keppra. Levetiracetam is often used in combination with other drugs. Sometimes it is used as the primary treatment.https://www.merckvetmanual.com/pharmacology/systemic-pharmacotherapeutics-of-the-nervous-system/maintenance-anticonvulsant-or-antiepileptic-therapy?query=levetiracetam

Can a dog with epilepsy live a normal life?

I know a few people whose dogs have epilepsy, and their dogs are doing fine with treatment. I’ve also read some unfortunate stories about the condition progressing or the condition being unresponsive to treatment. I guess it’s a gamble we take, like having children; you pray they will be healthy.

Bourbon has been doing well since they switched him to Levetiracetam. It’s been a few years, and I haven’t noticed any seizure activity, though we did have an issue with the loss of his nails but opted out of a painful biopsy. He has since been treated for the painful condition and appears to feel better.

After his initial grand mal, I moved him out of our doggy room and into my own to keep an eye on him. Shortly after, he moved into my walk-in closet and camped next to my jeans and dress pants. He chose the spot. It may be that he prefers the quiet or could hear them in the next room. Either way, I moved my clothes higher in the closet and slid his doggy bed in their place.

Kid, our cat, likes to keep Bourbon company. They look content together.

Bourbon doesn’t go on walks but goes outside when he feels like it. His herding instinct kicks in if he’s around the other dogs, so I worry about him becoming overly excited.

Does Bourbon live a normal life? It depends on how the definition of normal. People are afflicted with illness every day and learn to adjust to their limitations, living their best life. Bourbon has adjusted in the same way most humans do. He takes pills three times a day, which he’s not happy about. His energy level has decreased, but he’s aged. He’s adjusted to life with epilepsy and is living his new personal best.

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Sources:

Cornell University (n.d.). Managing Seizures. Cornell Richard P. Riney Canine Health Center. Retrieved January 8, 2024, from https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/riney-canine-health-center/canine-health-information/managing-seizures
Fischer, A., & Volk, H. A. (2023). Editorial: Epilepsy in veterinary science. Frontiers in veterinary science, 10, 1200311. https://doi.org/10.3389/fvets.2023.1200311

Löscher W. Dogs as a Natural Animal Model of Epilepsy. Front Vet Sci. 2022 Jun 22;9:928009. doi: 10.3389/fvets.2022.928009. PMID: 35812852; PMCID: PMC9257283.

Ohio State University (n.d.). Idiopathic epilepsy in dogs. Ohio State University of Veterinary Medical Center. Retrieved January 8, 2024, from https://vet.osu.edu/vmc/companion/our-services/neurology-and-neurosurgery/more-epilepsy

Shell, L. (n.d.). Maintenance Anticonvulsant or Antiepileptic Therapy. Merck Manual Veterinary Manual. https://www.merckvetmanual.com/pharmacology/systemic-pharmacotherapeutics-of-the-nervous-system/maintenance-anticonvulsant-or-antiepileptic-therapy?query=phenobarbital

2023 IDEXX Laboratories, (n.d.). Canine Epilepsy. Pet Health Network. Retrieved January 8, 2024, from https://www.pethealthnetwork.com/dog-health/dog-diseases-conditions-a-z/canine-epilepsy