Call of doodie
The inconvenient (and gross) truth about pot, pets, poop and you

The June sunset is throwing rays through the ponderosa, their boughs waving hello, their warm bark giving off that telltale vanilla-butterscotch aroma that always makes me feel home in summertime. This is one of those secret little camp spots where you see more deer and bear than people, where there’s no cell service, where you play and rest and remember what it means to be alive and connected to your dogpack and nature’s rhythms. 

My dogs, Betty and Mickey, are on typical camp protocol: the occasional victimless pounce accompanied by vigorous tail wag followed by sunshiney horse naps in the dusty sand. I hear them rooting around the scrub oak next to the rig. I’ve got some delish dinner brewing, which usually perks the pups to attention quicker than anything. Micks barrels out of the bushes to see what’s cookin’. Betts, usually the snack queen, is slow to follow, stumbling out of the bushes, unable to catch her balance or her footing. I run to her, she is semi-paralyzed and appears not to be reactive or able to see. She is breathing slowly and inconsistently; she has seizure tremors. 

We load up quickly, all possible scenarios running through my head. I keep coming back to rattlesnake bite, what else could it be? I drive like a bat out of hell to the emergency vet an hour away, watching Betty slowly decline, no longer responding to prompts or verbal calls. The emergency vet rushes Betts in. Shortly after, the vet comes outside. “We think she has THC toxicity, do you know if she has been exposed to this?”

I was so certain it had been a snakebite that marijuana hadn’t even crossed my mind. I laughed it off thinking the vet was joking, picturing Betty sitting down and rolling a big spliff to share with Mickey in the bushes. But sure enough, Betty’s toxicology report came back, and she had extremely high levels of THC, the psychoactive component of marijuana. And, thank goodness, she was going to be fine after IV fluids and a good night’s sleep (and maybe a munchie or two). 

What the heck? Where would she have picked that up in the middle of the forest? We spend so much time out in public land, and this had never happened to either of the pups before. And then, I put two and number two together: being an ex-street dog, Betty was a notorious human poo eater, to my constant disgust. My working theory was that Betts had eaten some human feces laden with THC in the woods.

I turned to internet sleuthing. Low and behold, pups have exponentially strong reactions to THC expelled via human feces. The reason for this is twofold: 1) We poo to rid our bodies of things too toxic for our systems to handle, such as THC, which is highly psychoactive and toxic, and 2) These expelled toxins are especially toxic to dogs due to their unique toxin processing and neurological setup. According to VCA Animal Hospitals, a network of 1,000 animal hospitals in the United State and Canada, dogs have more cannabinoid receptors in their brains, which means the effects of cannabis are more dramatic and potentially more toxic when compared to humans.

So, theoretically, all it would take is one human getting too high in the forest, popping a squat and carelessly leaving their scat out in the open for any interested four-legger to munch on.

According to VCA, your pet’s age, health and body size can all play a role in how it is affected by TCH, so there is no official safe level of exposure – even a small amount can cause toxicity in dogs (and cats). Luckily, cannabis intoxication is seldom fatal – the lethal oral dose of THC in pets is fairly high.

However, while we all have varying perspectives on the human use of marijuana, I’d venture to guess most of us don’t want dogs or other animals getting THC toxicity. Symptoms are neurological and, as mentioned, can vary greatly from dog to dog, but include: tremors, seizures, loss of balance, slow or fast heart rate, drooling, sleepiness or hyper activity, dilated pupils, slow breathing, disorientation, urinary incontinence, vomiting and whining. (Sidenote: just as for humans, cannabis products may be helpful for particular canine medical conditions, especially cancers and the treatment of its side effects. But, working with a vet on safe cannabis protocols is key to avoiding toxicity.)

Unfortunately, there’s not much accountability for the disposal of human feces on public lands. Already unsettling to encounter as a human, it becomes dangerous for our pets and other animals when the person doing the poo-ing has ingested drugs, supplements or pharmaceuticals. 

The biggest thing all of us can do is to be mindful of how we dispose of our number twos when we are out enjoying public lands. Using a W.A.G (“waste alleviating gel”) bag instead of burying the doodie keeps our pups and other animals from digging it up and eating it as an afternoon snack. But you don’t need a fancy W.A.G bag. You can make your own using biodegradable dog poop bags and kitty litter – just remember to pack it out instead of leaving it in camp. Even better, a lot of national recreation sites now have human waste bag dispensers at trailheads, just like doggie-poo bag dispensers at parks. 

Our pack learned the hard way that day that accidental consumption of THC in human excrement is no joke. So, whether you are the proud pack leader of a four-legger, a cannabis consumer or a forest camper, pack it out, and make sure your four-leggers scoot around the scat.