This may be a difficult piece for some to swallow. My beloved dog Billy, a 3-year-old Golden retriever, was due for his preventive flea and tick medication the other night. It’s a roughly 2 cm round, brown, soft piece called Bravecto. It looks a lot like that chocolate candy called Rolo. It doesn’t smell half bad (definitely doesn’t smell like chocolate) and it even comes in a pink and white box. It’s a $60 medication. Once every three months I battle to get this medication in my dog’s digestive tract. I get creative, because he won’t just take it out of my hand like he does for his Intereceptor, the once-a-month chewable for heartworm prevention. He likes those chewies, but not the Bravecto ones.

One time I wrapped some juicy steak meat around pieces of the Bravecto chew. I then infused the pieces with some Smucker’s Natural crunchy peanut butter. The pup seemed a tad bit skeptical when I handed it to him but any sentiment of doubt was overpowered by his love for that steak aroma. In a few more bites the whole Bravecto chew was gone. Victory! This must be how moms feel with picky toddlers.

Two nights ago I went to give Billy his Bravecto again. The dilemma was that we had no steak. But we had ice cream. Breyers Natural vanilla. And we had peanut butter (one of my personal staples). So, after Billy ate his dinner, I split the Bravecto into four sections. I scooped some ice cream and implanted a piece of the medicine into the center of it like a chocolate chip. I then used a knife to slather the thick peanut butter around that. Bam. Billy took it right from me. No questions asked. Three more to go, I thought, as I looked at the remaining pieces. I continued to scoop another spoonful of ice cream and then plant the medicine inside and cover it all with peanut butter. Billy continued to take it. This process repeated two more times. I rejoiced.

Billy turned to walk out of the kitchen. I noticed the smile on his face, lips sealed. I know this sign. Oh, no. I searched for a dish rag. Gucckk, gguuucckk, ggguucckk. I saw his smile widen and his intercostal muscles contract. His shoulders hunched as he bent his neck and snout toward the hardwood floor. I swung the towel around just in time to get at least half of what came. Blllllaaaahhhh! There went Billy’s dinner, along with at least a full serving of vanilla ice cream and peanut butter, and of course the $60 Bravecto. Bummer.

I called the vet the next day to explain what happened and to get a refill on the Bravecto. Sandra, the technician, gave me some advice. I figured I’d take her advice, as she’s owned dogs for 30 years. “Give him a piece of bread with some cream cheese in it. First give him the piece without the pill in it. Then give him the piece with the pill in it. If that doesn’t work, you’re gonna just have to shove it down. I don’t like to do that but you can’t let him be the boss.”

Too bad my dog is the boss. The pup gets $350 a month of “personal” money (but that’s another story). I went to the store after work and bought him some Philadelphia cream cheese, name brand, not the cheap stuff. I defrosted some whole wheat bread we had in the freezer and then went to work, slathering the cream cheese onto the bread. The plate was set – one small piece without the pill and one with it, surrounded by delectable cream cheese. It was ready for him for when he came home from day care (again, he’s the boss). I let my husband help me. We turned it into a game for the pup. Richard had the “real” piece, I had the primer. We had Billy do his host of tricks around the house to build the anticipation. I gave him the sampler, which he took readily. Richard had him perform and then handed him the piece with the pill inside. He took it then went to his corner where he eats his treats. Plop. I saw the piece of bread drop to the floor. He sniffed it. Then he began licking around it, using his tongue to get the cream cheese. Daaaahhh!, I said in frustration. I picked up the Bravecto sandwich and put it in his mouth and tried to close his snout. I felt like a monster. It wasn’t working. More importantly, I didn’t want my pup to think I’m a monster.

I gave it a rest for a few minutes at Richard’s recommendation, letting the piece of bread containing the medicine (now with little cream cheese left in it) in Billy’s bowl. “He’s not gonna eat anything until he eats that pill,” Richard said, taking his place as man of the house after I told him that this was the second $60 pill that Billy wasn’t taking. I couldn’t be defeated – or withhold any food from the pup.

We were again without steak. I knew ice cream wasn’t an option. But peanut butter was. I split the Bravecto chew into four pieces and began scooping peanut butter, wrapping each piece in it like a pig in a blanket. Maybe it tasted like a Reese’s cup because Billy gladly sat there on the kitchen floor and took each piece. I praised him and was so thankful he had finally gotten the medicine.

I kept my fingers crossed that there would be no up-chucking. Thankfully there wasn’t. We survived the night without seeing any more Bravecto. I celebrated by giving Billy a beef strip (dog treat) and by making me a cup of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips and peanut butter. ~