Tag animal health

dog trying to look innocent

Help your pet’s medicine go down

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Nancy Crowe

I put the tablet in Molly’s food every day, and every day she scarfed it all down, no questions asked. When I found one of the pills stuck under her water dish, I had questions. No answers were forthcoming — just the face you see in the photo — so from that day on the pill got smeared with a bit of her wet food and deposited directly into her mouth. Fortunately, she was OK with that.  

Medicating our animal friends requires shifting strategies; if one stops working, we have to be ready with another. Back when heartworm preventive pills had to be given every day, I rotated among braunschweiger, hot dogs and cream cheese to hide them in. As soon as Pepper the schnauzer deftly worked the pill loose and dropped it onto the floor, shooting me a “do you think I was born yesterday?” look, it was time for a new enticement.

Wirecutter recently reviewed pet-pilling techniques and products, which inspired us to try the Tomlyn paste with for our smart senior cat’s medication. It’s early days, but so far it’s working more consistently than putting it in her wet food.

Just as important as the method or vehicle, if not more so, is our mindset. You may have to give a medication topically, or perhaps putting it in food doesn’t work and you have to make a kitty burrito (wrapping the cat in a towel with just the head sticking out, gently opening her mouth and inserting the pill or squirting in a liquid with a syringe). If you approach the task like a hunter, a wrestler, or with a dread-laced dusting of baby talk, it confirms to the animal that this must indeed be a bad thing. They will feel/behave accordingly.

If, on the other hand, you take the attitude of: It’s time for your medication, no big deal, we’ve got this — you’ll get better results AND have a much better relationship with your beloved animal. (I would be remiss if I did not add that their time on earth is too short for us not to make the most of every moment, even the uncomfortable ones.)

I had a client who was quite nervous about giving her young cat injections every day. In a communication session, the cat asked me to encourage her to be more confident and he would be, too. I passed this along, and a little more tutoring from the vet tech got them both on the road to recovery.

Here’s more on medicating your pet (with liquids as well as pills) from Fear Free Happy Homes, and on other tough tasks (vet visits, nail trims, etc.) from me.

Backing up animal communication with action

Nancy Crowe

I called the vet clinic as soon as I noticed the missing shamrock leaves, and teeth marks in a few more. There was no question as to which of our two cats was responsible: Dusty, an 8-year-old calico with a history of ingesting things like fake Christmas tree needles.

Bring her in, they said.

Shamrocks are not as toxic to cats as other plants are, such as those in the lily family. Dusty still had to spend 24 hours at the vet clinic getting IV fluids and having her blood checked regularly to avert kidney damage.

I communicated with her several times from home, letting her know that she was safe and cared for and would be home soon. That she is loved no matter what. Trying my best to do so calmly, I also pictured the direct connections between her eating the shamrock leaves, my partner and me being upset and whisking her off to the clinic and her being there overnight with a tube in her leg. We also shared distant Let Animals Lead® meditations to help optimize Dusty’s treatment and keep us both calm.

The shamrock plant went into a closed room while I decided on best pet-plant safety practices.

Thankfully, Dusty came through the experience unharmed and we were able to bring her home the next day. Not an hour later, I saw her jump up on the table in my home office where the shamrock had been.

Clearly, this was going to be a process.

Dusty didn’t care for the shaved IV site on her right front leg.

Clear communication about expectations and consequences is important with any species. But for everyone’s safety and peace of mind, we often have to back communication up with action. (It’s like telling your kids the liquor cabinet is off limits, but also locking it … especially if there have been previous violations.)

My smaller plants now live in a reptile habitat, and I moved a large croton off the floor to be less tempting. All plants in the house are surrounded by bits of sticky tape and sprayed weekly with Bitter Yuck. I also keep a kitty scratching pad and toys in my office for enrichment and diversion from the plants.

For harmony of animal and plant life, and to avert horrible outcomes, I recommend these steps. All of them.

  1. Know what’s toxic before planting it in your garden, adding it to the pasture, or bringing it into your home. The ASPCA maintains a list of plants known to be toxic and non-toxic to dogs, cats, and horses, but advises that ingesting any plant material can cause vomiting and gastrointestinal problems.
  2. Know your animal companion, his curiosity level and interest in plants or other unauthorized objects. For example, if your dog is a shoe guy and has never looked twice at your flowers, you may have less worry than if his tastes are more universal (i.e., gets into everything).
  3. Be clear with your animal about what will happen if they chew on or eat plants. “If you eat this, you’re going to feel very dizzy, your tummy will hurt really bad, and I’ll have to rush you to the vet. I’d be so upset and frightened if that happened.” Picture all of this as you speak. “So find something better to do.” Then picture him calmly walking away from the plant and picking up a favorite toy, going to look out the window, or coming to you to be petted.
  4. Keep plants and pets apart. These, short of barbed wire, are my current methods.
Plants behind glass with bits of sticky tape for good measure … because that’s how we roll now.

Bottom line: If you know or suspect your animal may have ingested something poisonous, contact your veterinarian, emergency vet clinic, or the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center, (888) 426-4435.

Remaining a trainable human

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Nancy Crowe

The monthly application of flea/tick/heartworm preventive to the back of our cats’ necks is one of their least favorite things. It’s one of those tough tasks I counsel my animal communication clients to approach with calm, firm deliberation. Respectful handling is key to Fear Free for vet clinics, shelters, groomers and more.

Yet sometimes we fail to follow through on what we know. A couple of months ago, for reasons I don’t even remember, I was in a hurry. With applicator in hand, I quickly went to Lucy, bent over her and dripped the liquid onto the back of her neck. She shot me a look of reproach — and worse, hurt — and ran off.

I instantly regretted how I had administered the medication. There was no rough handling, but my “We’re getting this done. Now.” approach didn’t ease the process for Lucy or bolster her trust in me. My disappointment at having ignored my own advice, training and experience was secondary.

Nevertheless, Lucy accepted the treats I offered immediately afterward, along with an apology.

Later that day, when the stress of the moment had had a chance to wear off a bit, I invited her to join my yoga practice, something we both enjoy. For the most part she offers a classically feline “you call that a stretch?” glance and settles on a nearby chair. On this day, when she padded into the room, I told Lucy I knew better and would do better. She joined me on the yoga mat and purred.

When the time came for the next month’s dose, I took a second to remember what I knew. That’s obvious, yet so easy not to do.

I carefully approached Lucy, picked her up and held her for a moment. “I know you don’t like this, but we can manage,” I said, keeping my breathing even. I set her down on her cat tree where I could steady her without having to bend over her. I took another breath, squeezed on the topical medication and gently set her on the floor. Again she hurried off, stopping only briefly for treats.

I moved on to the day’s next task, assembling a glass terrarium to keep our other cat from nibbling on the smaller houseplants (a story for another day). I sat cross-legged on the floor with the base, sides, doors and instructions spread out, along with the enclosed bag of bolts and other itty bitty parts.

Within a few minutes, in strolled Lucy. She sniffed at the new materials on the floor, then climbed into my lap and curled up, purring.

Cats like trainable humans.