Seeing as ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is almost 13, we knew that there may be issues with bringing him on our annual camping trip. It's a love-hate type of thing. He's a pain in the you-know-what, but he's also good entertainment. So we forged on, packing him up along with the tent and journeyed to our favorite place in the Black Hills.
All was well. ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier was a champ, traveling without complaint and hanging with us and our extended family. No issues... until yesterday. RW got up a little earlier than me (a "little" meaning 2 or so hours). The dog got up with him. RW
gave him his medicine (a little something - something for asthma) and they hung out awaiting my emergence from the tent into the great wide world of the awake (which also includes buffalo, but whatever).
When I wandered out, RW remarked that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was a little wobbly. This didn't entirely surprise me, as we had taken him for a somewhat strenuous hike the day before. However, I was shocked when I saw him for myself. "A little wobbly" was the understatement of the year.
Our poor dog could barely stand up, walked in a decidedly zig-zag fashion, and was, to say the least, FREAKING OUT. He had turned into psycho dog. He wanted to eat, but then didn't want to eat. He wanted to be held, but then couldn't stand it. He was zipping around the campsite at such a pace and crying... We were flummoxed (is that even a modern word?)
Something vaguely similar had happened a couple of summers ago. ZeketheFreakRatTerrier got so wobbly that we took him to the emergency vet. Turns out it was an ear deal. However, he had turned it up a notch (or ten) in this episode.
We happened to have a mild narcotic with us that had been previously prescribed for the dog for a cough. I gave him some, and then awhile later gave him some more. We were thinking that it may at least calm him down. It did... Eventually.
So we went on with our day, wondering and fretting about what could have caused such a scene.
ZeketheFreakRatTerrier acted somewhat groggy the rest of the day, something that we attributed to the drug we gave him. Turns out we were right.
Right before bed, I asked RW to bring ZeketheFreakRatTerrier's asthma medicine into the tent.
"It's already in the tent", he replied. I looked on the table and saw 2 RX bottles, but not ZeketheFreakRatTerrier's. It slowly dawned on me.
"What medicine did you give him this morning?" I asked.
"His stuff! It's in the tent!"
My suspicions confirmed, I informed RW that what he gave him was NOT his medicine, but 1/2 an Ambien pill.
So I guess the good news is that nothing is really wrong with our dog (physically, of course. I can't speak to his mental state...). The bad news is that we forced an Ambien pill down his throat, resulting in behavior that I would imagine would result from a dog on crystal meth (not that I have a lot, or any, experience with that).
Oh, one more piece of good news... After drugging him with first Ambien and then hydrocodone, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier slept solidly through the night, which can only mean one thing... we did too.