Did Truvy Know?

This situation is hard on all the people involved (especially Diane, of course) but our family dogs are not immune to this stress. 

I'll categorize our dogs the same way Dave Barry once did: We have a "large main dog," Truvy, a Cattle Dog-Border Collie mix, and a "small, emergency backup dog," Odie, a Bolognese. 

They are both "our dogs," but if you analyze their behavior, there are definite signs that Odie is Diane's dog and Truvy is my dog. Even though they have both seen times in the past

when Diane is out of town for a few days, I can see some nervousness in them that tells me they know something is up here. 

After "the setback" was already well underway, I happened to remember something a little odd about Truvy. Truvy loves her Mom, no doubt about it. Diane was the one who found Truvy at ReTails, the homeless pet emporium at Washingon Square Mall. She saw in Truvy the kind of friend I could adopt after I'd gone through the grieving process after my beloved terrier-mix, Amos, had died on Christmas Eve, 2010. 

Truvy and I clicked immediately. And once we had her home, Truvy would pace and cry when I left the house, but was generally content if Diane left to go somewhere and I was still home. To this day, if Diane is home and I work late, Truvy will wait often outside on the back porch until I get home, even in some rather nasty weather.  

I recently did some reading about seizure assistance dogs, who have an innate ability to detect if a person is about to have a seizure and warn the person or others about it.

In the last week or 10 days before Diane suffered the aneurysm, Truvy became noticeably more attached to Diane. She would jump up on the bed at bedtime and nuzzle Diane around the face and lick her ears, and Diane would laugh really hard. I admit that for just a moment, I was a bit jealous, but finally I felt glad that Truvy seemed to have finally "evened out" her affections for both of us. 

I now wonder if there was some kind of precursor warning that Truvy picked up on that Diane was about to have a problem. Two weeks ago it would have been absolutely insane for me to have said to Diane, "Gee, Truvy is just lavishing all sorts of affection on you, Dear. Maybe we should get you to ER for a head CT."

But if Truvy steps up her affections toward Diane in the future, it will not be ignored. 

Diane has still not awoken. Each passing day that she does not look into my eyes or squeeze my hand back when I squeeze hers is the new worst day of my life. But her room feels different this morning. The morning sun is shining in her East window. The gloom that has settled over central Indiana seemingly for weeks has broken at least for this morning. 

Diane had basically stopped responding to neurological tests in the last couple of days, but is responding somewhat better today. The last couple of days have been "no good news, no bad news." But she is not experiencing any infections, is breathing on her own. Dr. Helou, who is cautious about building hopes too high, but told me this morning that from the neck down, Diane is in very good shape. There are no signs she will not awaken soon, but we must remain patient while her brain recovers from this struggle. 

That's the trick, isn't it…