First, I want to say that Edgar, the feisty chow/corgi mix belonging to Cynthia Daniello, is still alive, though still weak and fighting for balance.

A dog stroke is not like a human stroke; a dog’s brains and neural systems are simpler. Usually, if dogs live 24 to 48 hours, they have a good chance of living longer or recovering fully.

Tomorrow is an important day in Edgar’s recovery. If he makes it through today, he has a good shot at recovering. I hope we can keep the good wishes coming.

Edgar could not be in better or more loving hands. The hardest thing for Cynthia, she says, is that he wants her to hold him, and she can’t, so he lies right next to her and puts his head on her feet, and leans on her, sighing.

How difficult that must be.

I have to pause and thank the hundreds upon hundreds of people who have e-mailed her with prayers, encouragement, and messages of hope. There was only one nasty message in all of those messages from all over the world, including South American and Europe.

There were far too many to count.

Cynthia appreciates encouragement, prayers, and hope: Her e-mail is [email protected].  The messages are still pouring in after 10 or 12 hours; they really make a difference; Cynthia was speechless, trying to figure out how to say thank you. She said her fingers ache from trying to reply.

I know how much this dog means to her.

I explained to her that the Army Of Good is, well….good.

Thanks so much for writing her.

Cynthia, being courteous to a fault, puts all of the messages into a file and is e-mailing thanks to everyone that she can, one by one. I told her not to feel pressure to answer everyone, but I know she will.

She’s hopelessly behind, she says but is reading every single one.

These messages have kept her morale and determination up; they have distracted her and giving her hope and strength. I believe she is transmitting that love and light to her dog. I believe in that.

“I can’t believe how many messages I’ve gotten, and from all over the world,” she said, “It’s just unbelievable, and they really help, they really do.” She does not feel alone today.

There aren’t many things vets can do for dogs with stroke; they don’t give them blood thinners, as they do with human beings.

The vet prescribed prednisone, and Edgar has managed to urinate and defecate, although it was painful for Cynthia, who is in her 80’s and confined to a wheelchair, to see the struggle. He had to figure out how to use a bush to stay upright. “He is awfully smart,” she said.

Edgar is eating, and he is mobile, if wobbly. He is still, of course, in danger.

Cynthia says she is taking care not to engage in wishful thinking, but she is clear-eyed as a long-time former vet tech. He is better, and she reports that he is eating and eliminating good news; both are essential to his recovery.

Her two close friends in the retirement home where she lives in Virginia came to see him today, and he crawled over to both of them to say hello.

I met Cynthia at a book reading and again on my radio shows. She was fighting to save the life of a feral cat named Ginger who she had been feeding, and the complex where she lived wanted to get rid of the cat.

It was a two-year fight, but she won, and the cat lives in a special house she had built outside of her front door and in her small garden. Cynthia does not know how to quit, not at any age.

According to the  American Kennel Club and the National Stroke Association, a stroke occurs when there is a disruption of blood flow to the brain, depriving brain cells of their oxygen supply.

This often happens suddenly and without warning. The extent of the damage and its impact on the dog varies depending on the part of the brain affected.

In both humans and dogs, strokes are typically classified as either ischemic or hemorrhagic. “An ischemic stroke occurs when a vessel that supplies blood to a part of the brain becomes blocked, and damage to the brain tissue occurs,” says Dr. Jennifer Coates,  a veterinarian who serves on the advisory board for Pet Life Today.

“In a hemorrhagic stroke, a vessel in the brain bleeds, which leads to swelling and increased pressure,” she adds.

Both types of stroke deprive the brain of blood and oxygen, which causes brain cells to die. Ischemic strokes are more common than hemorrhagic strokes in both people and dogs.

The severity of the stroke depends on how long the brain goes without blood flow.

There’s no way to know how severe the stroke was.

Edgar is an older dog, believed to be 8 or 9 years old because he was in a shelter a very long time and was not diagnosed as deaf until Cynthia adopted him 10 weeks ago.

He came with behavioral problems – some food guarding, aggression to other dogs and cats, panic when he was approached or touched by people, or when they came near his flood.

Because of his hearing problems, people were always startling him and no one was able to communicate with him or help him to understand what they wanted. That is a formula for all kinds of problems in a dog.

Cynthia learned how to approach him directly, softly, and even from a distance so he would not be frightened or startled by being approached.

Imagine how the world looks to an older deaf dog abandoned and living in cages for years. Cynthia is fiercely determined and with a staggering heart. He responded to  her.

We worked together on teaching Edgar how to communicate.  She didn’t need much help.

I sent her a book, and we talked several times about using vibrations, sound sensations, and light couple with hand signals and food rewards.

Edgar turned around. All he wanted and needed was to understand what was needed and wanted from him.

He became the dog he was meant to be, calm, responsive, happy, and loving. He understood what was being asked of him, and he responded wonderfully.

A dog mow5 people would have brought back to the shelter became a precious companion, a partner at the edge of life. It was almost too good a story to be true, yet Edgar got ten happy and loving weeks of life and love.

Hopefully, there is more to come. I read Cynthia’s e-mails from this morning and talked to her tonight on the phone. Your messages have lifted her, given her hope, and she saw that Edgar was watching her closely and taking his cues from her.

It’s too soon to say, but I have this gnawing feeling that your support, encouragement, and kindness may have brought these two loving creatures more time.

I have a strong personal connection to Cynthia. She came to a reading of mine almost 16 years ago; I can’t remember her. She told me the first thing on her bucket list is to shake hands with me one day.

I will try to make that happen.

Cynthia is both proud and self-sufficient.

She is not seeking any kind of financial support. I’ll keep an eye on her; if the medical bills sky-rocket, I’ll revisit the situation. We mean a lot to one another, and now we can all share her great character and big heart.

“I cried a lot yesterday,” she said, “I cried and cried.” That is an unusual thing for her to say; she is not one for drama or showing much emotion.

“Part of the problem is being in a wheelchair. I can’t pick him up, I can only reach him, and I just wanted to hug him, and I know I can’t. He wants to cuddle and be cuddled. He’s clued into me and my feelings, and I decided that I will be upbeat, and it helped me, and I think it is helping him.”

Cynthia is strong, she bends but doesn’t break. I think she may save Edgar at least one more time.

She said she never imagined getting all of these messages of support. Thanks again for that.

 Cynthia could use some encouragement and support: Her e-mail is [email protected].