Sebastian
Date of Passing: 02/24/2025
Message to Sebastian: Sebastian "Basher, Bash, Monster" was the strongest, (never let them see you sweat) dog I've ever had. Despite his epilepsy and the drugs that helped him live, he just powered through; he had many medical challenges throughout his life, but you would never know it. He was a trooper to the end and would have kept going until he couldn't go anymore if I had let him. He's running around and enjoying his new life now, hopefully not looking for food since he's seizure-free. Say hi to Peaches, Alex, Jazz, and Champ...until we meet again monster.
Tell us about Sebastian: I first got Sebastian from Whitney a Basenji breeder in South Dakota. When he arrived, he was flown in, but there was a mix-up—he ended up in Canada by mistake. It took some time to get him back because we needed special documentation from a vet in Canada to send him back to the U.S. Eventually, I was able to pick him up at the airport.
That first night, I’ll never forget it—he immediately tried to climb out of his little gated area. I can still picture it, and I think I even have a photo. Later, when talking to Whitney, I learned there had been another mix-up—Sebastian had been sent to a different person, and I had received her dog instead. There was some back-and-forth about whether we should switch them back, but in the end, we decided to keep the dogs we had. And that’s how Sebastian became mine.
He was a handful from the start. In his puppy phase, he was constantly getting into things. One of the most memorable moments was when I caught him on video climbing on top of a tarp I had placed over his gated area to prevent him from escaping. Somehow, he managed to scale it, but then the tarp collapsed, trapping him inside. It was almost comical—one of those moments that perfectly captured his determined nature.
That determination never faded. Later, I discovered he was epileptic. I’ll never forget the first time he had a seizure—he was running around on the couch when he suddenly froze. And just like that, our journey with epilepsy began. It feels like a lifetime ago—well, I suppose it was.
Through it all, he remained the most determined dog I have ever known. If I had to describe him in two words, they would be determined and stubborn. He had an iron will—no challenge was too great. But beneath all that stubbornness, he was also incredibly sensitive. He didn’t demand attention, but you could always tell when he wanted it.
We were always inseparable. He followed me everywhere and would lay beside me no matter where I was. If I was working, he’d jump into my chair and sit behind me like a little lumbar support. When I switched chairs, he adjusted too—moving to my lap instead. In the car, he refused to sit in the other seat and insisted on sitting in my lap. I’m not sure why, but that was just his thing. At night, he slept next to me, jumping in and out of bed for water or bathroom breaks. Because of his meds, he had a special crate for that. And of course, his favorite snack was popcorn and veggies—simple things, but they made him happy.
His life seemed to revolve around finding something to eat which was med induced. That was his mission. He had a few favorite activities—he loved playing catch, but with a twist. He’d chase the ball, grab it, and then refuse to give it back. I had to pry it from his mouth every time. It was his own version of the game. His other obsession? Stuffed animals. But not in the way you’d expect—he didn’t play with them, he destroyed them. I eventually had to stop giving him any because he would rip them apart in seconds.
In his early days, he was quite the little destroyer—chewing, tearing things up, getting into trouble. But despite everything, he was a good dog. A really good dog. And everyone who met him loved him.
As for his name? I’ve just always liked the name Sebastian. I love human names for dogs, and he just felt like a Sebastian—proud, regal, and dignified in his own way.
Even at the end, that determination never left him. He still tried to do everything he had always done, pushing through despite the challenges. We had a deal—when the time came, I would know by looking into his eyes. And I did. He gave me the signal, and I listened.
He’s at peace now.