Kiss, Lick, or Eat a Toad?
How We Wish They Spoke a Human Language
It was about 8 in the evening. I was juggling one appointment after the next, along with sick pets who needed to be worked into the flow. As usual I was falling hopelessly behind. I had already poked my head into the waiting room; it bordered on standing room. Then Martha interrupted me in the exam room. I’d been clear: our clients time with me was sacred. But I knew she would never break that rule without good reason. I excused myself from the wellness exam in progress and closed the door behind me.
“Martha, what’s up?” Normally composed, she blurted out, “A dog just came in staggering badly with a whole lot of drool. She’s been vomiting on the way over. I think it’s an emergency.” In the treatment room Amos was already on it. Gently holding Alita, a tan and white spaniel mix, our excellent veterinary nurse had a thermometer cooking. As I hustled in, he announced, “104.1.” Three degrees above normal.
Alita’s gums were a deep red and her eyes moved quickly back and forth. My stethoscope revealed a generally normal cardiac rhythm with an occasional abnormal beat. The sheer volume of saliva running out of her mouth was truly impressive. Now and then she shook her head, despite her normal ears. Multiple possible causes were swirling through my mind, not the least of which was poisoning.
I recalled an emergency medicine lecture I’d attended not long after graduation from veterinary school. The professor, waxing philosophic, was bemoaning hasty actions that could send a critically ill pet down the wrong path. His point, “Don’t just do something. Stand there. And think for just a minute. You’ll know what to do.” I set about a time-efficient physical exam while considering my next move.
Clearly, a nasty oral irritant was involved but Alita also had signs of trouble elsewhere in her body. I needed a diagnosis, like right now.
a) Mouth injury from chewing a rose bush and then swallowing a thorn.
b) Poisoning by eating a lily of the valley
c) Toad poisoning
d) Epilepsy
e) Drama queen
Alita’s Poisoning Diagnosis
Lying on the treatment table Alita wore the expression of a dog who knew she needed help while wishing she were anywhere but in a hospital.
Her deeply reddened gums, heavy salivation, back-and-forth eye movements, and trembling suggested the correct answer to the quiz. I instructed Amos and Dougie to put Alita in the tub and rinse her mouth with a gentle stream of cool water.
Why not break out the firehose and eliminate the oral irritant ASAP? Or make it more comfortable for the poor dog by using warm water? Any toxin remaining in Alita’s mouth would absorb into her system faster across blood vessels dilated by warm water. And with neurologic symptoms, she could inhale water into her lungs. Better to stay cool and go slow.
When my good staff had our patient over this first hurdle I asked them to start an IV catheter for fluid administration. We treated the fever with alcohol-soaked gauze sponges between her foot pads. Amos and Doug moved carefully and efficiently, allowing me a few minutes to talk with Alita’s family.
I knew Andrea and Tom; they’d brought Alita to me for vaccinations and spaying. On this day they were clearly distraught. I invited them to sit with me in my office.
I explained that while Alita had a strong chance of survival she wasn’t out of the woods. I needed some history. Did they have lily of the valley plants? No, they did not. Had Alita ever had a seizure? Nope. Were there toads in the yard? “Oh yes!” Andrea, the avid gardener cried. “I love toads. They eat slugs, snails, and cutworms that destroy my vegetables.” Ahhh. We had a diagnosis.
There would not be neurologic signs from biting a rose bush or eating lily of the valley. Epilepsy was ruled out, and while there are canine drama queens, their shenanigans usually involve stealing laundry, not feigning a near death experience. We treated Alita for Bufo toad toxicity.
Kiss, Lick, or Eat a Toad?
Our pets have good lives: a comfy bed, 3 squares, and flat screen TV. But they aren’t little people in furry suits. Beneath that cuddly exterior beats the heart of a predator. Alita, like any self-respecting savage was always ready. A toad in the garden, minding its own amphibious business, suddenly hopped. Then it hopped again. Wow! A snack!
Toads, consumers of insects, snails, and slugs are beloved by gardeners. They move suddenly and quickly, making them fun backyard toys for dogs and cats. The species found in our corner of the world, Bufo alvarius, is somewhat less poisonous than its cousin Bufo marinus that resides in Florida.
Bufo toads are most active during their breeding season (March through September). Encounters with pets often occur following a good rain, during dawn, dusk, or nighttime. Also known as Colorado River toads or Sonoran Desert toads, these endearing animals are not defenseless. When they get scared, glands on their skin secrete a thick, white creamy substance called Bufo toxin. Poisoning symptoms came on fast: drooling and often retching, vomiting, diarrhea, abnormal heart rhythms, pawing at the mouth, and head shaking.
The hallucinations some dogs experience can’t be fun. These pets may become hyperexcitable, stagger, convulse, or even pass out. A few have died from this dietary indiscretion. Toads sitting in an outdoor water bowl can leave behind enough toxin to poison a thirsty pet.
Licking, biting, or even wolfing these creatures down in one bite isn’t rare among dogs and cats. You’ll have to act fast; there is no specific antidote. Alita’s family got her to us quickly. She recovered well.
There are folks who’ve embarked on a psychedelic trip by licking toads or dining on toad soup, toad meat or eggs, or even devouring the entire beast whole. I discourage these recreational escapades. Lonely hearts beware. Romantic overtures toward a frog can yield a life of love and fulfillment but if you kiss a toad instead, well, I won’t comment on that. You’ll need to ask Dear Abby. I treat behavior disorders in pets, not people.
