My Dog Had A Seizure While I Was On Livestream

This past Friday night, I decided to hop on TikTok live to read from one of my favorite books, The Four Agreements, while my wife took our son to basketball practice. Normally, our 13-year-old Yorkie princess Bam would stay with me, but since it was a nice day and the practice was being held next to a park, I recommended my wife take her, which she did.

About 45 minutes later, deep in the throes of conversation about the book, my phone rang, the caller ID displaying my wife’s number. Normally, I would make a mental note to call her back, but being in a playful, jovial mood, I decided to answer live on the air. When I picked up, I heard my son’s voice. This was instantly strange as he should have still been in practice at the time.

What’s up, I asked, my stomach turning before my mind knew why.

Mom wanted me to tell you that we’re on our way to the animal emergency clinic. Bam had a seizure.

What, I asked, my mind instantly replaying all the times I’d heard my son and his gang of preteen meme-boys use the word to describe things that were definitely not seizures. Unlike all those moments, when my wife or I would interject to let them know they should not be using the word incorrectly, this time I was praying he was. Unfortunately, his voice told me that was not the case.

She went stiff when mom was walking her and passed out.

My wife would later tell me that she made our son call me because she was barely holding it together, having thought for a moment that our “practice baby,” who has been with us since a year before our son was born, was gone.

Is Bam okay now, I asked, suddenly remembering I was still broadcasting live to 50 people.

She seems a bit out of it, but ya she’s awake. We’ll call you after we get there.

Ok, I said, call me back.

Ok. Bye.

Bye.

I hung up the phone and stared at the screen for a moment.

Family situation, I heard myself say, let’s finish the page and then we’ll call it a day.

As I read, my lips moving but my mind no longer there, an image of George W. Bush sitting frozen in an elementary school classroom flashed through my mind. I ended the stream and paced nervously while waiting for the call.

About an hour later, while my wife was waiting for the lab results, I received a text from her: Can you call my aunt? I was on the phone with her when it happened and she heard me having a meltdown.

A retired social worker and child-advocate superhero, Auntie L. has been one of my favorite humans since we first met. At times in my life, she felt more like family to me than my own. More than anyone I’ve ever met, Auntie L. has a way of dispensing wisdom in just the way you need to hear it at just the right time. And not just to humans. Her relationship with Bam has been more like what I imagine the lucky people with good grandparents have. Ever since Bam was a baby, the two of them have had a love-story more beautiful than The Notebook. When they see each other they run toward one another like soulmates reuniting after the war, with Bam needing to lick every inch of Auntie L.’s face before she gives anything else her attention. Which is why, dialing Auntie L.’s number on Friday, I expected to be the one offering reassurance. How silly of me.

You need to prepare for hard things, she said after listening to me try to convince both of us that everything would be fine. Whether it’s now or later, pain is coming, for all of you, she said, stressing the end of the sentence in a way that reminded me of my duties as a father and husband without having to spell them out. And that’s okay. You climb the mountain and it’s hard and tiring, but then you get to the top and realize the sun is still shining. The birds are still singing. And then you see that there’s another mountain waiting for you right behind that one. And then a whole bunch more. That’s all there is. Enjoying the sun when it’s shining, and continuing to climb when it’s dark.

Right, I said, taking my first full breath in an hour. Right.

We don’t know exactly when the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote the words that he did. We don’t know which passage of Meditations was written after seeing his men killed in battle, which after losing his brother to the Antonine Plague, which after witnessing eight of his 13 children pass before he did. But somewhere along the pain-filled journey through those endless mountains, Aurelius wrote a reminder to himself:

The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.

As I sit here some two thousand years later, with my beautiful pup sleeping peacefully next to me and blood pressure medicine flowing through her veins, I am filled with gratitude for both Aurelius and Auntie L. for all the steps they took up their own mountains that cleared a path for mine.

I hope these words can pay that goodness forward to you in whatever struggles you’re facing today. See things for what they are - impermanent, forever shifting, and never the whole of you - and let that keep your spirit untroubled.

- Will Watson