Our basset hound has a pill problem. There I have said it, and admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. Since he is incapable of admitting he has a problem I will go ahead and admit it for him. We can hide pills ANYWHERE in the house and he will find them.
The first time that we realized that Sydney was taking a walk on the wild side he got a hold of a bottle of Prozac and downed the whole thing. We didn't know that Syd had a problem so the pills were just sitting on the table. After a trip to the vet, some activated Charcoal, and a $300 bill we assumed that Syd was in recovery. Oh, were we wrong.
Relapse one occurred the night that I returned from a business trip. I dropped my carry-on in the living room and went to bed. In the morning I realized that our little addict had managed to unzip my carry-on bag and fish out the zip lock that contained the meds. Sometime during the night asshat had horked down a whole bottle of ibuprofen. We took the pill poppin' daddy back to the vet. This time the vet helpfully inquired if we were being careful about keeping the medicine out of Syd's reach. I very heroically resisted the urge to yell at him " No you rusty-witted crotch pastry - I am hoping that I can enable my dogs drug habit just enough that I buy you a brand new speedboat." More induced doggie vomiting, another few hundred dollars.
The next relapse was a real doozy. Hopefully this was rock bottom. Friedrich dropped a few tablets of his lithium onto the damp counter-top. Knowing that there was an addict in the house he went to great lengths to bury the tempting little nuggets in the very bottom of the trash can. Sadly, when an addict is looking for a fix they will go to great lengths to score (including digging soggy pills out of the bottom of the trash can). By the time Friedrich realized what had happened Syd had already vomited on both couches, his bed, Friedrich's pillow, the rug, and all over his ears. Let me tell you, there ain't nothing quite as sad as a hound dog with vomit soaked ears. Friedrich decided that the best course of action was to give the dog a bath. Syd is a notorious hater of baths, so Friedrich also decided that stripping down to his skivvies and joining him in the tub was the best way to simultaneously get him clean and provide comfort. On the way to the tub he called and told me to call the vet and head on home. When I got home they were both in the tub and Friedrich was crying. Strike my previous comment about nothing sadder than a hound dog with vomitty ears. A teenage boy cuddling his dog, who has vomit soaked ears, in a bathtub, while openly weeping, is more sad. By the time we got to the vet Sydney was in sad shape. I was afraid that he had pilfered his last pill. The vet met us with judgement in his eyes and whisked Syd away. We went home to wait for word from the vet and I set about trying to convince Friedrich that he hadn't effectively murdered the family dog. The first call we got from the vet wasn't pleasant; they were having no luck treating our pill head dog. They needed us to call in a consult from an animal poison specialist in Minnesota. Friedrich set to weeping again and I called Minnesota to give them access to my credit card and started making a mental list of all the possessions that I could hock to pay this bill. Friedrich was making a list of things that he could hock to pay for a doggy funeral.
Two days later Syd turned the corner and found a new lease on a hopefully drug free life. I heard a rumor that my vet bought a brand new Donzi 45ZX speedboat the day we picked him up. Coincidence? I think not.
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