aka Living with Canine Cancer….
aka How to Get your Bitchy Dog To Take her Pain Meds…
Every day Ms. Folly receives two Tramadol in the morning and two at night. When we started on this routine, it was easy enough to slather some peanut butter on a saltine, immerse the pills and away we’d go. Greyhounds adore peanut butter so she hardly tasted it going down. The only complication was that occassionally she’d get the blob stuck on the roof of her mouth and make me cackle as she contorted her face in various attempts to remove it. I learned to give her the cracker peanut butter side down.
Somewhere along the way, she got wise. She started rejecting the peanut butter. So I squished them up in a little ball of bread. That worked for a few days.
Then I wrapped them in Velveeta. I think the only thing Greyhounds like more than peanut butter is Velvetta. However, unless they hoark, the pills fall out. It’s not as if there’s anything sticky in Velveeta to keep them in place.
When she wouldn’t rebuff my offerings entirely, she’s take them into her mouth, slobber all over them, masticate them and then spit them unceremoniously on my kitchen floor. Frankly, half chewed and indistinguishable bits of cracker, peanut butter, bread and otherwise being ground into burnt orange shag carpet is just disgusting.
And let’s not forget the Oscar-worthy performance she’d dredge up everytime her sensitive palate got a hint of these meds. Eyes bulging, tongue thrusting, lips curled back, great gobs of frothing and heaving….. This is so dramatic that one night my niave SO calls “I think she’s having a seizure!” Having lived with a greyhound prone to seizures, I dashed to the kitchen with my heart pounding only to stop short, my shoulders slumping, and deadpan “No, that’s just pill melodrama” turn on my heel and walk away.
Mind you, each of these pills is smaller than my flipping birth control. We’re talking 2×7 millimeters. I think I’ve accidentally swallowed bugs bigger than that – how bad could it possibly be?
After exhausting weeks of this struggle, wherein crying, nagging, shouting, haranguing, hair pulling, teeth gnashing and other great gestures were implemented to no avail, I think I finally hit upon the solution.
A quarter of a Saltine (the smaller the object, the less likely she’ll reject it), a glob of white store-bought frosting, and then I extract the tiny little pills from their bottle with tweezers (as to not soil my hands with the scent), place them in the sugary goodness, then cover it with more carb hell.
Folly’s weakness for sweets means she snarfs with abandon.
I’ll let you know when she catches on; I’m sure it won’t take long.