Not sure how much I've written about my hounds, but just to recap I'll give everyone a review.
I have two dogs. Lucy is my Beagle, and she's 4 years old. She was a birthday present from my sister back in 2002 and she's been a great dog. She has some of the normal Beagle issues, but overall she is a great companion.
After a couple years I started to realize that I just couldn't spend as much time with Lucy as I would like, so I decided to get her a friend. After extensive pondering I settled on a Basset Hound. This conclusion was based on two things, first I wanted to keep with the naming scheme and get her an Ethel. A Basset named Ethel seemed like a logical choice (no disrespect to Vivian Vance intended). The other determining factor was the fictional Basset Hound, Flash, from the Dukes of Hazzard. My childhood memories of the Dukes gave me the perception that Basset Hounds were lazy dogs that would just lay around and be no trouble. At the time, I had no idea how wrong this idea was.
My Brother-in-Law's mother found me a Basset Hound from her neighbor out in Kearny Nebraska. She acquired a Basset for me, we drove halfway to Nebraska and thus Ethel joined my family.
Ethel wasn't quite what I expected. I expected her to be laid back and sleepy, quite the opposite she has been a ball of fire. She is likes to chew, craves attention, never sits still and is constantly in to everything – which brings me to today's story.
Sunday afternoons are a good time for me to watch the football game and get a few things done around the house. While cleaning the kitchen I found some chocolate brownies from a couple weeks ago that didn't get eaten and threw them in the trash. A few minutes later, after catching a few minutes of the game on the downstairs TV, I discovered the empty pan on the floor. Of course, Ethel was the prime suspect, but I wanted to be sure. I grabbed Lucy and smelled her breath – normal dog. Ethel, on the other hand, smelled like she had just had dinner at the Hershey factory.
Being the good parent I am, I was immediately concerned. The toxicity of chocolate to dogs is well known. I turned to the best reference source in the house, my computer, and did a little Internet research. Ethel's about 40 lbs and there probably wasn't enough chocolate in the brownies to do her any damage, but how could I take a chance.
When a dog eats chocolate there is a time window of 1-4 hours where the worst of the poisoning can be averted by causing the dog to puke. The way to do this is create a Hydrogen Peroxide solution and give it to the dog – this will induce vomiting. The reference site I found suggested using a Turkey Baster, but being a bachelor that has only cooked a couple Turkeys in my whole life, a Turkey Baster isn't in my arsenal of kitchen utensils. I wisely decided it shouldn't be too hard to just us a measuring cup and pour the solution in her mouth. I proceeded to make this solution, usher her outside and attempt to administer the medication. Unfortunately, this didn't work as well as planned. Attempting to hold down a 40lb Basset and pour hydrogen peroxide down her throat is neither fun nor advisable. Many scratches later most of the tonic was on the ground and Ethel was not puking. Undeterred (but irritated because I was missing the Bronocos beating up on the stealers) I came up with plan B. I grabbed a funnel that I keep for kitchen use thinking that getting a funnel in her mouth would be easier than holding it open and pouring out of a measuring cup. This turned out to be a much better plan and the recommended 4 tbsp dosage (or a close approximation) was successfully introduced to Ethel's gullet.
The poor dog got to run around the back yard and dry heave for the next 15 minutes, but, much to my chagrin, didn't vomit any significant portion of the brownies. All out of ideas I finally turned to final resort (which probably should have been my first move) , the local emergency Vet clinic. A girl named Ally answered the phone and reassured me that the brownies likely did not contain enough chocolat to cause any permanent damage. The worst symptom she suspected would be some diarrhea.
In the end, Ethel has not experienced any ill effects from the brownies and I'm recovering from the wounds inflicted by her claws. I guess this crazy Basset will be with me for a while yet.