What is hydrocephalus?
http://www.hydrocephalus.org/facts.htm

Photo of bilateral canine hydrocephalus
http://www.msu.edu/~ramosjo/8181.htm

Written to Toller-L February 20, 2001

I didn't want to post anything about the way Katie died, or cause  speculation on why she had died, until I had a greater degree of certainty  about what happened.  We had an autopsy done, and I got the report last night. While I don't have the written report yet, this diagnosis is  conclusive.

Katie had hydrocephalus. At the time of her death, 70% of her brain was  gone.  I found a picture on the web of hydrocephalus in a dog's brain and  they do mean GONE. As in, not there.

Hydrocephalus was more informally known as "water on the brain" some years ago. It's not water, but cerebrospinal fluid, and it compresses the brain and, among other things, causes seizures. It can cause the eyes to appear  to turn outward, looking something like "lazy eye"; that's what we thought  Katie had at 6 months, until we took her to the opthamologist, who  misdiagnosed her with "intumescent lenses". Turns out that what we were  looking at was an indicator of hydrocephalus.

It can cause behavior problems. The dog may behave abnormally, be unable to  walk straight, appear uncoordinated. In Katie's case, it manifested  sometimes as an inability to learn - not just an unwillingness, but an  outright impossibility.  She appeared sometimes to be completely unable to  hear, but this would come and go, was rare, was fleeting when it happened,  and we weren't sure. She bumped into objects but we chalked that up to bad  eyesight; it was one of the reasons she went to the opthamologist.

Later in life, starting in late December, there were times when she fussed  a great deal, especially in her crate, but as we could find nothing wrong (nor could her vet), we thought it was a behavioral problem.

On the last night of her life, she had several seizures, and finally went into respiratory arrest; she stopped breathing in my arms. The friend who was with me throughout this, Deb Ulsh, says she thinks Katie was aware that  I was with her and loving her the entire time.

This disorder appears to be both congenital and hereditary. There is a  history of hereditary hydrocephalus in toy breeds, where most of the  knowledge of this disorder in canines comes from, because it's apparently  pretty rare in other breeds. It may be a rare isolated thing in Tollers - I hope so! Doug Coldwell says that Katie is the only instance of the disorder  he has had in his breedline. I also have heard from a friend who had an  Irish Setter die from this disorder; it may come from WAY back there as our breed was being established.

It's amazing that she lived, and was coherent and seemed to enjoy life, as  long as she did, given the above. Katie had an extremely strong will to  live and to love, and, had she had the body to match, would have been  absolutely superb. She had the heart of a champion.

I will update the Toller Browser when I can, to reflect Katie's date of  death and the cause.

The Details:

The sequence of events from Friday night through Saturday morning:  I got up to Deb Ulsh's with Katie and noticed that she had pooped in her  crate, something she never does. Katie was a very experienced "road dog"  who had been for many long trips in her crate without an accident, having  been crate-trained by me as a very young pup.  (Retrospect: this was  probably due to having a seizure in her crate as I was driving, but I did  not know it as she was in the enclosed back of the truck.) I went to give  her a bath, and after her bath she started shivering terribly, and walking  as if she were drunk. This continued for only a few seconds, less than a  minute. Then she got very tired, continued to shiver, and was invited to  lie in front of the woodstove; we thought that somehow she had gotten  chilled. (It was not that cold.) After a few minutes, Katie got up, and as  she was still shivering, we wrapped her in a blanket and had her lie down to rest.

I eventually moved her so that she was resting with her head on my lap, on  the couch. She seemed to sleep extremely deeply for quite some time. Then  she thrust herself upright on her front legs, hurled herself backward, and fell onto the carpet in what was clearly a seizure.

Deb called the vet. This was about 11:30 at night, so she had to get him  out of bed. He told us to watch her through the night, keeping her warm,  and to call if it happened again. About 2 minutes after Deb hung up the  phone, it did happen again, so she called him back and we rushed to the vet  hospital with Katie.

On the vet table, Katie had two more seizures, somewhat more widely  separated in time. The vet gave her Diazipam to calm the seizures, and it  seemed to work; she didn't have further seizures, but her pupils were still  pinpoint. He asked me about a long list of chemicals, all of them  organophosphates, wanting to know if somehow she could have gotten any of  them; I answered no to every one, as these simply are not things we use.   Most of them are pesticides (Dursban, malathion, etc.), or insecticides,  and some are used in household cleaners. We simply do not have them here,  either on the land or in the house, as I am only using organic cleaners  (largely Simple Green) and only do organic gardening, and Katie hadn't been off the property for several days until I put her in the truck. Chocolate can also cause seizures, apparently, but she hadn't had any of that either.  Plant poisoning was the next thing ruled out. Despite this, the vet gave  her a small dose of Atropine, and that helped her come out of the  semi-anaesthetized state, let the Diazipam wear off, and enabled her to  sleep. She slept for a long time as we watched.

At no time was I further from her than 1/2 inch, and usually I was petting her head, stroking her ears, petting her body or her feet, and telling her all the time what a sweet and good girl she was and how much she was loved.

After she had slept for about an hour and a half, the vet thought it would be safe to take her home and let her sleep through the night. We picked her carefully up, I got into Deb's truck, and Katie was placed gently in my  arms, still wrapped in a blanket. She seemed very stiff. At that point, she  started gasping for breath and only took about 4 breaths after that. We  rushed her back into the vet hospital, but by the time she was placed back  on the table, she was in full respiratory arrest. She never breathed on her  own again. It is at this time that I believe Katie died. Deb thinks she was  aware of me and knew I was with her until this time, and that she was not in pain.

She was put on artificial respiration, Deb (who was formerly a vet tech)  pumping the oxygen for Katie and "taking a breath" for her, me calling her  as if she was out in the yard somewhere, the vet working frantically with  drugs to bring her back and enable her to breathe. Little Bit never  responded, though she did have occasional muscle twitches. She had no pupil  response at all. Her eyes glazed over. One eye got a very pronounced bulge,  and she was turned over, but did not respond, and that eye remained bulged  out.

After nearly an hour and a half of trying, Katie was disconnected from  oxygen. It had become apparent to all three of us that her brain had died  at about 5:15 a.m., just as she stopped breathing. Her brain had simply  shut down, and Katie wasn't coming back. We let her die with dignity; I  continued to pet her body as her heart gently stopped beating, and her body  died at about 6:45 a.m, a few minutes after the oxygen was disconnected. I  told her to let go, to rest easy, and that she was a good Little Bit, and  goodbye.

Both times she died in my arms. I am glad I could be there for her.