I remember quite well the day I picked Olive from a litter of puppies, he was the only brown sibling. The foster family had a little girl who was attached to Olive but after she gently suggested that I love him a lot forever she warmed to the idea of me taking him home the following week. I was told he was given the name Olive because of the color of his coat, I never saw the connection, but kept the name.
Olive was a wickedly smart puppy and after the first night at my house in Raleigh, he had mastered the gate on his crate and I woke up to find him sleeping in my bed. I had him housebroken inside of two weeks and crate trained - my brother helped me rig a new latch - in just a few days. We thought Olive would be a "smaller, medium coat" guy, but he proved us all wrong by growing a gorgeous long coat and maxing out at 68 pounds. Olive is a large part of my day because of the assistance he provides me in dealing with my medical issues. He has not been trained formally, but he often can sense a seizure before it happens and he sits and whines at my side. If a seizure hits unexpectedly he lays at my side and licks my face to help me regain consciousness. He has given my husband piece of mind when I am alone during the day and me a greater sense of security. Our vet has said that because Olive sees me as his charge he is driven to care for me and the bond an owner and dog develop can often be stronger than we can imagine. I would have laughed if someone would have told me back in 1999 that a diagnosis of epilepsy in 2003 would lead me to rely on Olive everyday.
