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Thunderstorms, heavy rain, fireworks, the NOAA weather radio. These are the things that can turn my sweet-tempered 11-year-old PBGV bitch Audie into a quivering, drooling, panting mess. She won't eat or drink and can't be calmed. She would huddle up next to me or by my feet and drool on my leg. For years Audie suffered through midwestern weather and the Fourth of July, and she'd even start to shake, rattle, and roll on fine days when the NOAA weather radio or TV Emergency Broadcast System would blast an AMBER alert or the community emergency siren would sound for a test. She had learned to associate the klaxon of the alerts with horrible things coming. The symptoms would start with the distant rumble of thunder, flash of lightning, or pounding of heavy rain on the windows (though a rain shower is generally not a problem) and last up to couple of hours after the storm had passed. A few years ago Dr. Foote prescribed Propranolol (a beta blocker) and diazepam (Valium) for stormy days. This drug combo lessened the severity of the symptoms a little bit, but Audie continued to pant, drool, shake hard enough to rattle the bed, and turn into a Velcro dog, never leaving my side. This spring, Dr. Foote recommended a change in meds to a daily dose of Reconcile (fluoxetine hydrochloride, an SSRI, "Prozac for dogs") for the duration of storm season with the addition of alprazolam (Zanax, a mild tranquilizer) up to three times a day on thunderstorm days. Behavior modification training was also added to our routine. The Reconcile, crushed and mixed into her breakfast, took a couple of months to reach therapeutic levels in Audie's system, but I began to notice a "chilling out" with the daily dose. I moved Audie's bedding and taught her to go to a windowless, interior bathroom--where she would often flee on stormy days when she could peel herself away from my side--and lie on her bed nestled between the tub and toilet. This is her "safe" place, and treats and gentling techniques during behavior training taught her that nice things happen here.
Getting the timing right with the dose of alprazolam was my biggest learning curve. Anyone who's lived in the Midwest knows that thunderstorms can pop up with little warning and that a weather forecast can change dramatically every half hour. I found that the drug has its greatest effect in Audie from about two to five hours after administering it. On days with a good chance (i.e., 30 percent or greater) of storms, I am glued to the Weather Channel online, watching the forecast and the Doppler radar. When the storm is about two hours out, I'll tuck a pill into a spoonful of canned dog food. If I'm going to be away from home or if the storm is forecast for the middle of the night, I'll dose Audie right before I leave or right before bedtime. I have missed the optimum window when a pop-up storm catches me by surprise and have dosed Audie only to have a storm miss us. The alprazolam really mellows her out, but not so much that she doesn't always get excited for walks, and it certainly has not dampened her appetite.
She's been on the regimen for about four months now, and we had some good tests with a series of heavy storms, and Audie did very well. Timely dosage of the alprazolam is key. She still quivers a bit when she hears a clap of thunder or sees a flash of lightning, but the panting, drooling, and Velcro dog have almost disappeared. During the worst of the storms she headed to her safe place in the bathroom, but for the most part she just stayed in her spot on the rug and snoozed. They say that "music soothes the savage beast." Dr. Foote suggested playing something with a heavy beat on stormy days. The theory is that the strong, regular rhythm allows Audie to hear a repetitious pattern--and dog training is all about repetitious patterns--to counteract the chaos of lightning and thunder. For Audie, the higher the volume the better, which might help drown out those unpleasant booms of thunder to those keen canine ears. I know I can't hear the storm over the strains of "Another One Bites the Dust." Now whenever I leave the house, I tune the radio to a rock station. It does seem to help some mild separation anxiety, and it can't hurt. - Carol Burwash and Audie
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