Learning to live with Canine Diabetes

Henry has been part of my life for a long time. He was born April 2, 2015, and for most of his life his biggest concerns were figuring out when his next meal was coming and finding the most comfortable place in the house to sleep.

Then he was diagnosed with diabetes.

We knew diabetes would mean insulin injections and some changes to our routine. What we didn't realize was how much of our lives would eventually revolve around numbers, schedules, medications, glucose readings, and trying to figure out what his body was doing.

It has easily been one of the hardest things we've gone through together.

Learning to Live With Diabetes

Henry started on Vetsulin, with insulin given twice a day.

Our schedule quickly became centered around 7:00 AM and 7:00 PM. He eats, gets his medications, and gets his insulin. Twelve hours later, we do it again.

Every day.

Giving the injections themselves eventually became the easy part. The difficult part was learning that treating diabetes isn't as simple as giving a certain amount of insulin twice a day and calling it done.

Blood glucose can change considerably throughout the day, and Henry wasn't always predictable.

Sometimes his glucose would stay extremely high. Other times the same insulin dose could bring him much lower than expected.

We started learning about glucose curves, nadirs, insulin duration, injection sites, food timing, and all kinds of things we never expected to know.

Then Cushing's disease made everything more complicated.

Diabetes and Cushing's

Henry was also diagnosed with Cushing's disease, which can make diabetes much harder to control because of its effect on insulin resistance.

We started treating the Cushing's with Trilostane.

In early January 2026, Henry was taking 20 mg of Trilostane twice a day while also receiving 8 units of Vetsulin twice daily.

Then January 9 happened.

The Seizures

Henry started having seizures.

He had multiple seizures at home. During one of them, we used Karo syrup because we were worried his blood sugar had dropped too low. He came around, but the seizures continued.

We rushed him to the emergency vet.

He had another seizure there.

Henry ended up spending about 24 hours in the ER receiving anti-seizure medication, fluids, oxygen, and monitoring.

It was terrifying.

When he was discharged, we stopped the Trilostane and reduced his insulin significantly. He also came home on Keppra, an anti-seizure medication that he has continued taking twice a day.

At that point, treating Henry became a balancing act.

We needed to control his diabetes, but we also had to treat the Cushing's, monitor his electrolytes, and avoid pushing anything too far in either direction.

Starting Over

After the hospitalization, we slowly began working our way back up with his insulin.

His Vetsulin went from 4 units twice daily after the ER visit, to 5, then 6, 7, and eventually back to 8 units.

We also cautiously restarted the Trilostane, initially at 20 mg once daily instead of twice daily.

Bloodwork later showed that Henry's sodium was trending downward, so we adjusted again. His Trilostane was reduced to 15 mg once daily using a compounded liquid medication.

It felt like every time we got one number under control, something else changed.

Then Henry Went Blind

Not long after all of this, Henry lost his vision.

It happened incredibly fast.

Diabetic dogs are particularly susceptible to cataracts, and suddenly the dog who had spent his entire life being able to see us couldn't anymore.

That was probably one of the hardest changes for us to accept.

Henry, however, adapted better than we expected.

He learned how to navigate the house. He knows where his food and water are. He knows where we are. He still finds his way to the kitchen with absolutely no problem when there's food involved.

He's still Henry.

Turning Henry Into a Cyborg

Around the same time, we started using a FreeStyle Libre 3 Plus continuous glucose monitor.

The sensor sits near his shoulder blade and continuously measures his glucose.

Having that information changed everything.

Instead of checking a few individual points during the day, we could actually see the shape of his glucose curve. We could see when the insulin started working, how quickly his glucose was dropping, where his lowest point was, and when it started climbing again.

Of course, nothing involving Henry's diabetes could be that simple.

We've dealt with signal loss, sensor errors, sensors failing early, and readings that didn't seem to match what Henry was doing.

So the Libre became another tool rather than something we could blindly trust.

When a reading doesn't look right, especially when he's running low, we confirm it with an AlphaTrak blood glucose meter.

Our house basically started looking like a tiny veterinary clinic.

The Numbers Take Over

One of the hardest parts of managing diabetes is trying not to become obsessed with the numbers.

When the Libre says HI, you want the glucose to come down.

Then it starts coming down and suddenly you're watching it thinking:

Okay... maybe not that fast.

You learn that a number by itself doesn't tell the whole story. The direction it's moving matters. How quickly it's moving matters. When Henry last ate matters. When he received insulin matters. How active he's been matters.

We've spent plenty of nights watching his glucose readings instead of sleeping.

There have been times when we've sat next to him with an AlphaTrak, kibble, turkey, and Karo syrup nearby while waiting to see where his glucose was going.

You start celebrating numbers that would mean absolutely nothing to anyone else.

Changing Insulin

Eventually, controlling Henry's diabetes with Vetsulin became difficult enough that we decided to try insulin glargine.

That brought another learning curve.

The initial dose brought his glucose down much more aggressively than we expected. We had readings in the 80s and 90s and spent hours monitoring him, feeding small snacks, checking the Libre, confirming with the AlphaTrak, and trying to decide what to do with his next dose.

So we adjusted again.

That's probably the biggest lesson Henry's diabetes has taught us: there isn't always an easy answer.

You collect information, watch what happens, work with the vet, adjust, and repeat.

Our New Normal

At this point, diabetes is simply part of our routine.

There are insulin pens, glucose meters, Libre sensors, test strips, medications, syringes, and emergency Karo syrup around the house.

Meals happen on schedule.

Medications happen on schedule.

Insulin happens on schedule.

Glucose gets checked.

Then checked again.

Henry doesn't understand any of that.

He just knows that he gets fed at 7:00.

And we're pretty sure that's the only part of the treatment plan he actually approves of.

Still Henry

Diabetes has changed a lot about Henry's life. Cushing's complicated it. The seizures scared the hell out of us. Losing his vision was difficult. There have been ER visits, medication changes, failed sensors, sleepless nights, and more glucose readings than we could possibly count.

But none of those things define him.

He's still stubborn.

He's still obsessed with food.

He still manages to find the kitchen despite being blind.

He still wants to be wherever we are.

And he's still the same Henry.

Taking care of a diabetic dog can be exhausting, frustrating, expensive, and sometimes scary. There are days when you think you've finally figured everything out, followed immediately by a day that makes absolutely no sense.

But he depends on us.

So we adjust.

We check the numbers.

We give him his medicine.

And at 7:00, we do it all over again.