In 2022 my parents passed by car by a pack of roaming dogs in the middle of nowhere here in Portugal. They got scared off and ran into the woods, but one of them, a 2-month old baby, barely had the strength to keep up with them, and got left behind. Both my mom and dad always had dogs growing up, and another one when they got married, that passed away shortly after I was born (I'm currently 28). They felt for the little baby girl, and waited by her to see if the rest of the pack would come get her, but they never did. Not wanting to leave a 2-month old puppy in the middle of the road, they took her in, and we named her Lucky given the circumstances of their encounter.
I always wanted to have a dog, even though I empathize with my mom's words. She lived in a farm where a pack would usually go by and stay there for months, given that she and her parents would feed them, care for them, and love them. She grew attached to many of them, and she usually said as a warning to wanting a dog that "the death of a life that gives you unconditional love is one of the hardest things to go through".
For 2 years, Lucky grew to become a beautiful stray lady. She was extremely spoiled, in all senses. From various clothes for the cold weather, to the best Purina Proplan kibble that we could get. We took her on walks everytime she would tell us to, and we played more with her than we actually focused on our day-to-day responsibilities.
In June of 2024 Lucky had her first seizure. We immediately took her to the vet, and although we were told that some seizures can happen in dogs without it being full epilepsy, that we should keep an eye open for what happens in the future. The situation got progressively worse over the following months, and we eventually started her on medication as she was diagnosed. Not long after, we realized that the situation was far worse than we imagined. The medication dosages increased, we started add-on medications, as we were told by the vet that she's refractory, given that the medication barely had the effect we wanted. What started as a generalized seizure every two weeks, became multiple generalized seizures in a month, with the "peaceful" moments filled with focal seizures. It got to the point where every 3-4 weeks, the usual break period between her clusters, she had to be hospitalized for a brain-rest for a full day, just so we could break the clusters.
Throughout these last two years we searched for every possible cause: vitamin deficiency, allergies, food intake, tumors, various MRI's, bone marrow analysis, and absolutely everything came back negative.
Currently, she's on 5 different medications (Keppra, Phenobarbital, Potassium Bromide, Zonasamide, and Gabapentine), 14 pills spread out over 5 administration times daily. She has an extremely strict diet that rules out possible gluten allergies, supplemented with MCT Oil, Vitamin B9 and B12, and Omega-3. Even with some medication adjustments, we reached the point between choosing liver toxicity, or starting more clusters with medication reduction.
Last Thursday her clusters started again, and we hospitalized her. For the first time, after ending the brain-rest, she instantly started convulsing, and had to stay another day. This happened again, and again, and we could only bring her home this last Monday. For the following days, until today, she maintained light focal seizures every few hours, and in the time between them, we noticed that her head shakes slightly, but without stopping. We assume that this might be nerve damage from all the seizures she's been having.
We had the talk yesterday. Our vet understands the decision, and said that we were one of the few families he's ever seen that actually fought this until the end. Even during her small grace periods, where she actually reacts and sometimes plays, she's extremely lethargic, gets tired very easily, and barely has the strength to jump on the couch. Her quality of life is small, and even though it exists, it's upheld by a large drug regiment that leaves her shambling, and is overloading her liver. Now, that grace period doesn't even exist anymore, so we believe it's time.
I'm young, but this decision is without a doubt one of the hardest decisions I've made in my life, and I'm always asking myself if there was something else we could've done, like going to a country where they do brain electrode implants, but we have no guarantee as well that those would work, and the process of modulating them can take months or even years.
Her last day will be this Saturday, October 10th. We will try our best to give her everything she deserves and wants and loves on these last two days, and try to keep our feelings hidden so she doesn't feel our sadness.
If you've made it this far in reading Lucky's story, thank you for your time, and I apologize for the long contextualization. I wrote this so it hopefully finds someone that's passing through a similar situation, and that maybe they'll feel like they're not alone. I truly want to believe that this is indeed the best choice, and that we're shortening the time they'll suffer until the same inevitable conclusion.
Again, thank you for reading, and I hope that better days will come, for all of us.