The End of BeBe, Almost.... A Real Life Situation

I almost shot my dog last night, if I had a gun I would have. Lucky for her, maybe, I don't. I did load her epileptic self up with a megadose of phenobarbital and it seemed to help. I didn't take any myself, but I thought about it. I still am.
        She had an epileptic fit that lasted for three hours. I figured she didn't have that coming.
   First she had one, no big deal, we do that once every two weeks and we're used to the routine. It got over, ten minutes and clean up the mess, everyone went back to bed.
                                 Fifteen minutes later the omniseizure started. Everyone was asleep except BeBe and me and so I was doing what you do when your dog or a friend has a fucking grand mal seizure in the kitchen, keep something under the head so they don't pound their brains out on the floor and keep away from the teeth and the claws. It didn't stop. Half an hour later I was into the old cure routines I remember from the dope days.Instead, I got Jess up and started mixing  barbs up in a spoon and shooting them down her throat, no point, just the syringe. Not Jessies throat, the dogs.  BeBe has a prescription.
                     I thought maybe an ice cube up her ass might work, it always did for me and my "friends" but that was for an overdose of whatever it was that time and I thought it might not be a good idea for this situation. Meanwhile, I'm still mixing up the pills and squirting them down her throat. 3mg a pill, and she's still shaking. Everything I know says a dogs metabolism should have acquired all the available drug by then, she's still seizing. This is two hours into it and shes bleeding from the mouth now. She bit her tongue.
                       Well, Jess looks on the internet, the midnight doctor to us all, and they say after a half an hour, theres going to be brain damage. We were going into hour three now, twenty four mg. or more, I lost count, and mine felt damaged.
                     She stops flopping but not shaking, and I take her outside, her legs are scrabbbling, she's panting and whimpering, shes blind, shes quivering, and me without my old Sig. I would have gave her one in the ear, fuck the discharge in the city rules and no ex felon shit the cops are coming bullshit. She didn't deserve any more. I took her back inside after fifteen minutes, she might be getting better, a little.
      I mixed two more barbs up and before I gave them to her, she started to slow down. I gave them to her anyway, poor little dog. I had her on a pillow in the kitchen by then. I thought she might  have enough in her to take her out.
      I laid down on the floor on the futon cushions in the living room to wait and see. The goomie goomies in my back were trying  to pry shit out of there with crowbars and hammers, maybe dynamite, I don't know what they have. It wasn't anything like the dog was dealing with.
   I heard her start trying to get up and went and carried her over to my spot, she was trying to walk on her forelegs, her feet curled back, so I put a leash on her and wrapped it around my hand and pulled her down next to me.She relaxed a little and put her snout in my armpit, brave little animal that she is, and started to breathe in short little huffs, but she was quieting down and I fell out.
        I wake up a couple of hours later ,she's walking around by the door looking at me like, "Why are you lying on the floor, lets go out and fuck around."
 Jess and Patrick took her to the vet first thing. They came back with her and said the doctor said try this, try that, she's a young dog, she may never have another seizure again if this shit works.
I really fucking hope so.
She's a happy ,tough little dog.
Tougher than me.
 Jesus Christ.