My Dog Got High And Is Shaking Home Remedies

Okay, so picture this: Tuesday evening. I'm chilling on the couch, binge-watching that true crime docuseries, the one everyone's talking about. And then, the silence shatters.

Not with a scream, mind you. More like a very confused bark.

The Incident

It was Barnaby, my goofy Golden Retriever. He was acting… weird. Extra weird, even for him.

He kept bumping into things, his tail was wagging like a metronome on overdrive, and his eyes. Oh, those eyes! They were wide, unfocused, and held a certain… well, "spaced-out" quality. Something was definitely up.

A quick scan of the coffee table revealed the culprit: a half-eaten (well, mostly eaten) special brownie my well-meaning, but slightly clueless, aunt had gifted me. For medicinal purposes, of course.

Barnaby, bless his furry little heart, had apparently decided to help himself to dessert. He’d achieved orbit. My dog was high.

Panic (and a healthy dose of laughter) ensued. My first thought? Vet. Absolutely. But it was late, and the vet is always so expensive.

So, I did what any modern, slightly-panicked pet parent would do: I Googled it. "Dog ate edible shaking what to do," I typed frantically. The internet, as always, offered a mixed bag of advice, some helpful, some… not so much.

The Home Remedies (or Attempts Thereof)

Water, Water Everywhere: The first piece of advice that seemed universally agreed upon was hydration. Apparently, keeping a baked dog hydrated is a good idea. So, I filled up Barnaby's water bowl and encouraged him to drink.

He lapped at it with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, occasionally missing the bowl entirely and soaking his chin. It was both concerning and ridiculously funny.

Gentle Encouragement: Next up was gentle encouragement. The goal was to keep him calm and prevent him from hurting himself. I started talking to him in a soothing voice, like I was narrating a yoga class for canines.

"Easy, Barnaby, breathe in, breathe out. You are a good boy. You are a relaxed boy." He mostly just stared at me, his tail still wagging like a deranged windshield wiper.

The Walk of Shame (and Equilibrium): Fresh air was another suggestion. A gentle walk, they said, would help him reorient himself. I leashed him up, hoping for the best, and stepped outside.

The walk was… interesting. He weaved, he wobbled, he sniffed every single blade of grass like it held the secrets of the universe. It was less a walk and more a series of near-collisions with mailboxes and fire hydrants.

I felt like I was chaperoning a tipsy toddler on a pub crawl.

Activated Charcoal (The Nuclear Option): Several websites mentioned activated charcoal, but with a big disclaimer: consult your vet first. Given the time and my financial situation I decided to give it a try.

I called my sister, who is a veterinarian to ask what the correct dosage would be and then I mixed it with water into a slurry and tried to get Barnaby to swallow it. It was not pretty.

Let's just say that activated charcoal is black, stains everything, and Barnaby was less than thrilled with the taste. We both ended up covered in the stuff.

The Shakes: A Constant Companion

Throughout this whole ordeal, the shaking was the most persistent symptom. Barnaby would be relatively still for a moment, then a sudden tremor would ripple through his body.

It looked like he was perpetually cold, even though the house was warm. I tried wrapping him in a blanket, but he just shook harder, like he was trying to escape a straitjacket made of fleece.

Eventually, I just sat with him, holding him close, letting him shake. I figured the physical contact would at least be comforting, even if it didn't stop the tremors.

The Aftermath

Slowly, gradually, over the next few hours, Barnaby started to come down. The wide-eyed stare softened, the tail wagging subsided, and the shaking lessened.

He eventually collapsed into a deep, snoring sleep, curled up next to me on the couch. I stayed awake for a while, just watching him, making sure he was okay.

When I finally drifted off, I dreamt of giant brownies and dogs flying through the air on rainbow-colored unicorns. It was a bizarre night.

The next morning, Barnaby was back to his old self, albeit a little more subdued. He greeted me with his usual enthusiastic tail wags and wet nose nudges, completely oblivious to the chaos he had unleashed the night before.

Lessons Learned (and a Few Laughs)

The whole experience was terrifying and hilarious in equal measure. It was a stark reminder that dogs are basically furry toddlers with a penchant for mischief and an uncanny ability to sniff out forbidden snacks.

It also taught me a few valuable lessons. First, keep anything remotely tempting (or medicated) far, far away from Barnaby's reach.

Second, the internet is a great resource, but always consult a vet, especially in emergencies.

Third, sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there for your furry friend, even when they're acting like a complete loon.

And finally, Fourth, that story is hilarious. To this day, just thinking about Barnaby’s high adventure brings a smile to my face.

It's a reminder that life with a dog is never dull, and that even in the midst of chaos, there's always room for love, laughter, and maybe just a little bit of secondhand embarrassment. I even caught myself smiling, thinking, "He’s the best dog" when he shook after eating the brownie.

Plus, I now have a killer anecdote for parties. Trust me, "My dog got high and shook all night" is a guaranteed conversation starter. Barnaby, you’re a legend.

And Aunt Carol? We had a little talk about responsible edible gifting. She now sends flowers instead.