The Day I Poisoned My Miniature Dachsund

Anyone that knows me would know that I do not like my dachshund very much. He has never really been a dog- more like a potted plant that moves to eat and crap. He is 11 years old now, stubborn, barks more than I'd like (but never at intruders, just things he shouldn't bark at), and when I try to pick him up he bites me. He is an AKC purebred, which means that he and his lineage have been inbred so much that he is a sickly little thing that has an autoimmune disease that requires him to have - no shit- human immunosuppressant HIV/AIDS meds daily (read "real expensive") or he starts itching and his hair falls out and he looks like he has mange. He has never fetched a ball, newspaper, or a slipper. He never seeks attention or greets us at the door after a long day. He never wants to be in our laps. He looks uncomfortable when I get the leash out and he hates walks, swimming and snow. See? A potted plant that craps. Since day 2, I have lost interest in him and simply done the right thing to support him until he goes onto potted plant heaven. I made the commitment when I bought hte purebred for large sums of money, and now I shall live with that commitment.

Things in the past regarding the dog that my wife has said to me include: "We do not bite the dogs" (when he bit me the first time many years ago, I bit him back). "We do not strangle our puppies" (when I attempted to keep him from biting me when I was trying to get him to go outside to do his business). "He's afraid of you, that is why he is cowering", and my favorite "we do not hit our dogs with sticks" (when I have repeatedly tried to get him to do his business in the area he has been trained to go in,  I guide him to the area with the poop scooper handle like a cattle rustler by tapping his sides to steer him in.) I have never abused this dog, but you'd sure think so by our relationship.

Well, I thought my prayers would be answered the other evening; I poisoned him.

Every summer, insects try to use our house for their homes because we back a nature preserve in a pretty serious hardwood forest. Every summer, I find natural ways to make them seek residence elsewhere (sometimes in insect heaven). Well this year was another carpenter ant year, and they are especially nasty when they set up shop in your house. I did not want that to happen and after a couple of more natural ways to make them move, I felt it prudent to go the unnatural chemical bait route. See where this is headed? I ordered the stuff from an exterminator supply house after researching its effectiveness. This was the big gun of carpenter ant extermination bait.

I was careful putting it out to keep it away from the kid and the pets - but I didn't count my best friend because he never gets out of his bed. I put a dish of carpenter ant bait within easy reach of him, and for some reason known only in the stars, he actually got out of bed, he walked up the stairs, entered the kitchen and smelled his way to the bait and cleaned it out, leaving foaming chunks of the stuff on his eyelids and jowls. He ate a double helping of an amount that should have taken out a couple hundred thousand of our 1/2 inch long ants.

It took a full minute of him standing in the kitchen licking his lips for me to realize what had happened. Then, despite three very stout Gin & Tonics, I made very sober calls to our vet, a transfer to the after hours emergency vet, then another transfer to the ASPCA where they coached me through making the dog vomit, but the dog never did. I think everyone in the house assumed that he was a goner. We waited, but no throw up came He digested vast doses of hydrogen peroxide along with the poison (Hydrogen Peroxide makes dogs throws up with the foamyness). No puking. Specialists with the ASPCA were called and the bottom line became that I would need to take him to the vet to have another chemical used that would make him throw up the poison. They said that the ant bait had immediate gastric and nervous system issues, including paralysis and stroke in small doses. Yet no vet in my area could get him in since it was now pretty late in the day. Even my own vet backed out, saying that there was probably no use - too much of the chemicals had already entered his blood. We waited for death to consume our dog.

Parked outside as the sun went down, my wife covered him, thinking that it would be the last time she ever gave him a blanket. In case he needed to throw up, or worse, we kept him on our deck until bedtime. We then sent him to do his business outside in the area, said our goodbyes and covered him for the night. I gave all I had to try and rescue the little guy, because my daughter loves the little thing, and I love my daughter. I would have spent any amount of money to fix the problem, driven anywhere, but it was no use. We all went to bed with heavy hearts (I only had a heavy heart for my daughter, let's make that abundantly clear.).

We wake every day at 6 am. The first thing that my daughter wants to do is to check on our dog. I have to admit that I am curious myself to see how much pain then thing went through in his final hours. Like always, the dog is in his dog bed, covered up completely just like we left him, and we have to dig to uncover him from under his blankets (potted plant). I tell my girl that I better check first, in case there are things too yucky for her 4 year old eyes.

I pull the covers back gingerly, searching for the body of the dog, and I feel what seems to be his tail and butt. The dog is perfectly fine and thinks I am there to bother him and he spins and latches his teeth into my hand. The little sonofabitch never showed any signs of poisoning, despite consuming 5 times the dosage used to decimate several colonies of ants, and he remains fine. The ant problem appears to have been solved, however.

I think we may be having a rat problem soon, or a raccoon infestation...