I am a veteran of Afghanistan and Iraq. I was a part of the first wave of military to participate in bombing Afghanistand and spent 111 days straight in combat as we launched offensives. When I was officially honorably discharged I returned back stateside to a life as a civilian. Adjusting back to "normal" life was a little difficult but I was holding up... I didn't have a lot of money so I had to take an apartment in an okay but not great area. The manager of the building was very nice and the complex was clean, but my next door neighbor left a lot to be desired. He was constantly in trouble with the law. He was selling drugs out of his apartment and would often have people over for strange parties that generally culminated with the police being called to break up fights. Both our apartments were studios so my bed was against the wall of his "living room." The fights with his so called friends were becoming increasingly violent and I actually ended up sleeping in my kitchen on numerous occasions because they would often threaten to shoot each other and I knew a bullet would easily come through the thin walls and potentially hit me. One night he got into a particularly violent argument with another man. The police were called and at 1am they came and broke up the fight, escorting the "friend" off the property. As he was leaving I could hear him screaming that he was going to kill my neighbor. I was thankful that it was finally quiet and I could get some sleep before I had to get up for work.
At 2:45 am I woke up to a strange beeping sound. I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock thinking that it was time to get up but it wouldn't shut off. I opened my eyes and realized that the entire apartment was full of smoke. I ran to the front door to get out but couldn't. The entire door and hallway leading to it was in flames. I grabbed a wet towel, beat out as much of the flames as I could and called 911. I had to climb over the wall to my patio to get out of my burning apartment. I ran to the front of the building and banged on every button I could, screaming to wake up everyone I could.
The fire department came and put out the fire. Luckily nobody had been hurt and the only major damage was property. I was sitting on a chair by the pool watching the firemen as they went through the apartment building. The homicide investigator came and sat down next to me. He asked me if I had any enemies and I said no, not that I knew of. I'd been out of the military only four months and hadn't had time to really get to know anyone. He then took me to what was left of my apartment. It looked as though someone had literally thrown a bomb in there. The homicide investigator told me that my front door was the point of origin for the fire. He speculated that based on the police reports from the night before as well as the past history with my neighbor that the threats that my neighbor's friend had finally come true. Apparently the guy that threatened to kill my neighbor had gone out and found someone to do the job for him...but gave him the wrong apartment number. Whoever had set the fire had taken accellerant and poured it all over the carpet in front of my door, soaked the door itself and then tilted it so that the fluid would run under the door into my apartment and saturate the carpet. The flames had gotten so hot that it had melted the brass knob of my door into a lump. The firemen had had to kick down my door to get inside. They could never officially place any blame on my neighbor and were never able to catch the guy who set my place on fire.
I moved out of that apartment into a new place but wasn't able to leave the trauma behind. The built up PTSD from both the military and now the fire suddenly burst loose and I started to experience severe "flashbacks" and "night terrors." I would be fine during the day but would wake up screaming at night, convinced that my apartment was again on fire. It got so bad that I was actually running into the hallway of my apartment complex trying to wake up people to help put out the fires I knew HAD to be burning in my room. Needless to say, I wasn't too popular with my neighbors.
I started to drink heavily and taking increasinly dangerous amounts of sleeping pills just to try to drug myself through the night. I hated my job, I hated my life and I was experiencing insomnia on top of the night terrors...why go to sleep when you know you're just going to wake up screaming? Finally one night changed it all. I was home visiting my family and again had a screaming night terror, waking up everyone. It was then that my parents told me I needed help and that just pushing all this down was going to kill me.
I started to see a veteran's counselor. We talked about PTSD and she suggested meditation and talk therapy...but it didn't do any good. I can talk all day but it's at night when I am alone that it's the hardest...then she suggested something I had never thought of. Get a dog.
I got a Chihuahua puppy in 2005. He was tiny, just barely a pound. He's tan with a black stripe and ears as big as sattelite dishes. He also wasn't what one might think of when they think of "Therapy Dog" for a tough former military, but for me, he was perfect! I named him Pipsqueak and he became the most effective PTSD cure I could ever want. He sleeps with me every night and although I still have the dreams, I know when I wake up that if Pip is still asleep on my bed next to me then there is nothing to worry about. All I have to do is reach down and feel his furry warmth and I know everything is okay. He didn't make it easier to initially get to sleep, but he made it easier to go back to sleep after an attack.
In 2009 we were at a picnic where Pip was mousing around with his best doggy friends while the rest of us grilled steaks and corn. I had started fostering other small dogs as a way to help give back and to say thank you for all the help I'd gotten from Pip. I'd just started fostering a tiny black female Chihuahua Luci and had been dealing with her kennel cough and pneumonia for a few days. Pip hadn't warmed up to her yet and that night he was acting even more distant. I chalked it up to him being jealous because she was getting lots of attention as I tried to get her through the last rounds of medication. I went to bed that night after spending some extra time giving Pippi belly rubs and kisses to try to break him out of his strange behavior.
That night at about 3 am I heard Pip starting to gasp and make this strange snorting nose. I turned on the light just in time to catch him as he fell into a massive seizure. I scooped him up and drove to the 24 hour vet, breaking every speed limit and running every red light I could. I got him to the vet just as he started his second grand mal seizure. The took him into the back and immediately started him on medications. We couldn't figure out what was going on. We ran through every possible scenario...did he get into medication? Did he eat something he shouldn't have eaten? Nothing made sense.
For the next three days he hovered between the living and the dead. His entire face swelled and all the blood vessels in his eyes burst. Massive bruises appeared all over his body and he had several more seizures. The vet told me his brain was swelling and that there would be a good chance that if he didn't die, he'd be brain damaged. I didn't care and stayed as long as I could until they'd kick me out each day. I brought him a sweatshirt I wore so he could stay wrapped up in it and pretend it was my arms. I brought him his favorite stuffed monkey and sat with him in my lap (IV bag and all) for hours.
Finally on the 3rd day I noticed a red spot on his stomach that didn't match all the rest of his bruises. I pointed it out to the vet who said it looked like a bite. My mom and I searched the internet for possible culprits and even sent the photos to her vet (all they way in another state). The only thing it could have been was a spider bite and most likely a black widow bite.
The vet gave him a dose of Doxycyclene and within a few hours the swelling in his face had gone down. A day later his whole body had stopped swelling and his siezures had stopped. On day 5 I got to take him home.
Pip is very popular wtih my friends and bringing him home was a heroe's welcome. He got balloons and cards and even a tiny little cupcake. He was still weak and spent a week on the couch so medicated that all he could do was drool and barely thump his tail.
Luci, my foster, was so concerned. She had finished her meds and was now feeling much better. She would wrap herself around Pip on the couch and just sit with him. If I had to leave the room for any reason, she'd stay to keep an eye on him.
While Pip was in the hospital my night terrors had come back but were now mixed in with dreams of Pippi having more siezures. On the second night Pip was gone I woke up to an absolute monster of a dream. I sat up gasping and reached for Pip's usual spot. My hand hit something soft and comforting. It was Luci. She had warmed up enough to start sleeping with me and had instinctually curled up where Pip would sleep, making sure she was close enough to me to be reached.
Pip made an absolutely miraculous recovery. He still has some residual issues but compared to what it could have been, I'm so thankful. His black little mug is now grey and he acts like an old man sometimes...but it's worth it. And Luci? Well, there was no way I could let someone else take her after all she'd done for me...so now I have both tiny guardians making sure the monsters in my dreams never get too big.
They've both been certified by the VA and I honestly can't think of a better medicine...they've literally saved my life. I have no idea where I would be right now without them.
Thank you so much for both my best friends...and life savers.