
Raven was born on June 9, 2025. We picked her from a Yorkshire Terrier breeder website in Arizona. I had been wanting a solid black Yorkie ever since I saw one several months before in a vet office. We made a weekend trip out of her pickup day on August 20, 2025. We noticed from the beginning that she seemed a little more shaky than the average nervous Yorkie. We chalked it up to her getting adjusted to new people, leaving her litter and traveling by car from Phoenix to home. After the first week, once she seemed like she had adjusted well and fallen in with our other pups, the mild shaking seemed to be just a part of her.
Raven was such a doll baby from the beginning. She was so sweet and affectionate, she was a total lap baby, always wanting to be close. It took several weeks for us to recognize the shaking seemed to be worse and more than just the Yorkie shakes. But in every other way she was a perfectly healthy, fun-loving, quirky little puppy. Her shakes seemed more like Parkinson’s tremors and we joked about it and called her our little Parkinson’s pup. We probably knew something wasn’t right but didn’t want that to be true since she was perfect in every other way. We finally started questioning if we should have her checked again by the vet, but because she was so healthy and when we held her or when she slept the shaking subsided. That was until her first scary and crazy episode on November 4th.
I had reclined in my chair near the slider door to the backyard and had been watching the dogs play and chase each other around the yard. They are very entertaining to watch run back and forth across the yard with their short little legs, barking playfully. Suddenly the barking seemed to change with more of a desperate whimpering sound mixed in and I saw her dart by into the house out of the corner of my eye with the other dogs chasing her like a mob. I jumped up to go see what was going on. She seemed to be running frantically into the back corner of their enclosure that is set up in my dining room area. The dogs were on her and she seemed to be running and flailing against the enclosure like she was trying to disappear into it. I ran around the kitchen island to the backside of their area and lifted her out to pull her away from the other dogs. She was very hard to hold onto, she seemed terrified, whimpering and flailing in my hands. I set her back down in the kitchen afraid I was hurting her and she ran for the corner, again frantically pushing her head into it. I picked her up and she started pooping, losing bowel control as she flailed and cried with her terrified noises, I could barely hold onto her. By this time she had drawn Danny’s attention as I carried her toward him in the family room he told me to put her down. Again she ran for the corner, I grabbed her up and placed her in a small crate that was sitting nearby. She continued to flail around in the crate making her very distinct whimpering crying noises, much different from the usual squawking sounds of a pup in pain.
I got her into the car and drove to the vet, she rode next to me in the front seat inside her crate. She was pressing up against the side of the crate, almost in a half standing defensive position. When I would reach toward her she would jerk and flail away. She calmed somewhat on the drive, quieting down but still pushing against the crate with her back and acting terrified. Once we arrived at the vet I carried her in and they brought me directly to a room. The vet came in and asked me a slew of questions about what happened, exposures, if she’d eaten anything she shouldn’t, etc. When I tried to reach into the crate to get her out she would flail and snap at me. We finally were able to calmly coax her to allow me to hold her and hand her off to the vet tech who took her into the back. She seemed calmer but apparently started flailing again once she got to the back. They wrapped her in a towel and held her to start an IV and give her some medication to relax her. They gave her fluids, drew blood and took X-rays of her. She slowly came out of it and started to calm down until only her usual shaky tremors remained. They questioned a possible toxin exposure from the yard like snail or rat baits. In the end they said the episode seemed neurological and possibly seizure-like and that I was right thinking that the tremors were not normal Yorkie shaking. I was referred to a veterinary internist for further testing since all her tests returned normal. I took her home once she seemed to have come out of the episode and had bstayed calm for some time.
The following day I took her to Yorba Linda, to the specialist, and they ran tests for a possible liver shunt which could show neurological manifestations and is more common in her small breed. The tests were negative. So she referred me to a veterinary neurologist in Tustin. I made the appt for November 12, the soonest they could see her.
The neurological exam appointment was long and very thorough. The neurologist ran her own series of X-rays of her spine, an MRI of her brain and a spinal tap. (Also, a blood draw the following week to rule out a vitamin B deficiency). The news was not good. The MRI showed lesions on her brain unlike any the doctor had seen before. She had a couple possible diagnosis in mind but wanted feedback from the radiologist for a final diagnosis and to get the spinal tap results back to rule out an infectious source.
The next day, November 13th, Raven had her second episode, same as before. This time she ended up behind the refrigerator which I had to pull out to get to her. I put her in her crate with some soft puppy blankets. Her episode lasted a little over an hour before she calmed down. Watching her struggle and flail as if she was trying to escape from her own body was heartbreaking. I could do nothing to comfort her, if I tried to reach into the crate she would snap at me. She made the saddest most terrified cries.
The neurologist called us after 3 days as promised and the diagnosis was Metabolic Encephalopathy which is a liposomal storage disease, as she suspected.
It was fatal.
We followed up 3 weeks later with the neurologist on December 3rd. At that point Raven had only had the two episodes in November and though her tremors were a little more severe, she wasn’t in pain because of them. She was eating and drinking and playing and eliminating normally. So the doctor advised us that as long as she was doing those things and wasn’t hurting herself or deteriorating to where she couldn’t walk and until the episodes became more frequent, we should just keep on loving her through it. The decision to euthanize her was all about “quality of life.” We asked what a practical timeline was before things would most likely deteriorate and we would have to make that decision. The doctor said the condition was so rare and had never been documented before in a Yorkie, but in the other breeds it had been documented in, they only lived 4-6 months. At that point Raven was almost 6 months old.
In the month of December, Raven had 15 separate episodes. Although they were shorter in length lasting only about 10 minutes at the most. Each time we would place her in her crate and talk softly to her and she would usually settle down allowing us to touch her through the openings in the crate. We constantly questioned how will we know when to make the call to end this for her. Her tremors became constant even when sleeping, she became more twitchy and moved around in a quirky way, her walk being soft footed with a slightly arched back. She still ran around and played with the other dogs and was over all “healthy.” She always wanted to be held and would sleep for as long as I let her curl up on me or stretched out next to me in my chair. She was the sweetest little shaky baby and we adored her. We were determined to make it to Christmas with her, than New Years. Taking each week and day at a time.
The last week of December her last couple episodes were so bad we thought she would certainly hurt herself, literally bouncing off the walls of her crate, squawking and crying and flailing around. The only thing holding us back was that the episodes were only 10 min long at the most and the rest of the time she was her shaky, precious, quirky little self, just wanting to be loved. She could still walk but just seemed a little less stable on her feet. She also had became more off balance and confused at times, she had started barking at her own reflection or anyone moving around in the house and sometimes at the other dogs. It was random but always seemed like she was disoriented and confused when she did it. Her own sort of dementia. We started having to crate her at night with a blanket over her crate, away from the other dogs for her own safety, not knowing when an episode might be triggered and so that she wouldn’t bark randomly at reflections, and the other dogs, and them at her.
We made it a few more days past New Years and she had gone 4 whole days without an episode. It made for a quiet, peaceful New Years weekend at home with all our pups.
Then on the 4th of January, she had 2 short episodes about 2 hours apart. We both had noticed she seemed to be getting thinner, we didn’t see her at the food and water bowls as often. She also seemed to just want to sleep on me or next to me most of the time. Her running and romping around with the other dogs was much more infrequent and she had no tolerance for being disturbed by one of them during a nap. A couple of her episodes came out of a deep sleep and she would wake up flailing and trying to run, the unusual cry and spastic running was always our cue that she was having an episode, so we would jump into action scooping her up, holding her away from us as she struggled to be put down and lost control of her bowels and bladder also now, then placing her in the crate as we talked soothingly to her until it was over. The episodes made the other dogs go crazy barking and trying to reach her which always upset her more, so we often placed her crate in the hallway during an episode away from the others with a blanket over her crate.
This was life with Raven, we don’t regret choosing her. We were honored to be the ones to get to love her through her short life. We didn’t feel like we wasted our money getting her diagnosed. It helped us cope with what we were dealing with, to understand what was coming and to know we had done everything we could for her. We appreciated our many doctors along the way who showed so much concern and compassion for her. Who coached us on what to expect, what to watch for and when it would be time to make the hard decision. When quality of life was no longer her majority. Also, Anna, her breeder who offered to take her back so we wouldn’t have to deal with the progression of her disease and was so sorry that we had gotten this one in a million baby with issues. But we weren’t sorry and we had no desire to escape her final days or not be the ones to love her through her deterioration, through each episode, through the holidays and quiet times, funny times and sweet times, with her. We wanted to extend her quality of life as long as possible and then be the ones to decide it was time for her to take one last long nap.
Two nights ago I got up during the night to let the dogs out and sat and watched Ravens disoriented behavior and knew the days with her were short and it was time. We have struggled over the last couple weeks with when the time would come because even though some of the episodes were really really bad and excruciating to see her go thru, her overall quality of life deterioration was slow. So weighing the balance of “is her life more good than bad” has been hard. We don’t want to see her deteriorate into pain, incontinence, weakness and slow weight loss as her appetite decreases. But we also loved every snuggle, every moment of sweetness and quiet she shared with us. We kept hoping along the way, “let’s get thru Christmas,” “let’s get thru New Years,” but recognizing the slow decline and that we were already down from the “let’s see how this week goes,” to “let’s see how the next couple days go.” We knew the time was here. So yesterday we talked about it and decided it was time to call the vet. She won’t have to experience anymore deterioration, anymore wild, seizure like episodes, confusion or pain. I had to ask myself when do we cross the line from giving her a life for her to enjoy, to doing it more for us. It’s impossible to know. How does one decide what “quality of life” is for a little creature that can’t tell you how it feels to live inside her body, to loose control, what kind of pain she is experiencing, etc?
Today was the day. January 6, 2026, 3 days shy of her 7 month birthday. This was so much harder than I even imagined it would be because part of her was still so okay, so sweet and precious. She covered me with puppy kisses on our way into the vet office. How could I not ask myself over and over if I was doing the right thing? If it was really the right time? If I should have just kept evaluating her until it was absolutely necessary? Doubt was swirling in my mind. I just kept reminding myself, “her brain is covered in lesions,” “her condition is progressive,” “time is not on her side.” “She will not get better.”
The vet assured me I had made the right decision. That I did all the right things for her. This was the window and the goal was to not allow her to pass the point into a life of suffering. I held her as the vet gave her a sedative and then as she fell asleep I said my goodbyes and showered her with kisses telling her how sorry I was that she got dealt this hand. Once she was in a deep sleep I allowed the vet to take her into the back to administer the final meds. I didn’t want to watch her die. There was no point once she was asleep and unaware, so I slipped out quietly and drove home.
Danny and I are both so consumed with sadness. How did we come to love her and bond with her even more in knowing we would loose her. It seems so self defeating, but maybe more inevitable because of what she was experiencing.
As I write this with tears streaming down my face after having lost her, I can’t imagine taking in a new “replacement” puppy right now. Since her condition was genetic, I can choose a new puppy from her breeder, but I just can’t find any joy right now in a new puppy. I contacted her breeder and told her we wouldn’t be able to pick a “replacement” puppy for some time. Not that we could ever replace Raven. Anna was very understanding. A new puppy deserves someone’s whole heart and mine is shattered right now. I need time to pick up the pieces left from Ravens short but exquisite existence. I would revisit a new puppy later if and when I’m ready, but for now my heart and memories are with our sweet quirky Raven.
She shook her way into our lives and hearts and it’s there she will remain.
Goodbye Raven.
“Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard”
~Lyrics from The Scientist~
There is hope beyond this









