This dog. Not just any dog but this dog. I have let it happen as I have in the past when faced with a dog, faced with the care of dogs. I would not describe myself as maniacal when it comes to pets. I can say no to kittens and stray dogs. But this dog is mine to care for and I take caring for things quite seriously once I agree to do it. This dog rules the day. The walk I take for myself I take for her, she needs them as much as I do, maybe more. Lately I have stopped letting her run free because she seems to be developing a seizure disorder. Over the past few years her seizures have increased in frequency and I am trying in my way to rule out possible causes. I changed her food and now I am restricting her movement around my 5 acre property as well as the adjoining properties where she was in the habit of getting into all kinds of things on her daily romps. This is over. I take her out on the leash and we wander around together until she does her thing. Recently, I awoke to the sound of her throwing up and then she appeared suddenly on my bed, practically on top of me and in seconds I was up and she was in a full blown convulsion. I cleared the area around her and then stepped away, these episodes are hard to watch. She came to and I was there to reassure her and feed her and clean up the urine and the vomit and then I let her come back to bed with me. She slept in that morning but was otherwise fine. It's perplexing and worrying, this dog, my companion, this fragile being. When this neurological malfunction happens her little brain screams my name and she runs to me, a barfing, foaming, urinating, seizing mess. My dog, my mess. I was out of the house today for about 5 hours and I kept thinking about her, knowing how she puts herself into a suspended state when I go out, she fervently waits. She'd wait forever. Such loyalty I do not deserve but I have it and I won't waste it. I plan her walks and her playtime, I think about her comfort, her nerves and her care. This dog, my dog. Not just any dog.