Emma Collins Facebook ad: “Read this if your dog eats ANYTHING outside”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

27257173787284338

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram and Messenger

Relaunches

0

EU reach

193

Niche

Pets

How we count

Ad text

I used to think I was a careful dog mom. I mean, I *am* a careful dog mom. I know which plants are toxic. I keep the trash locked. I check ingredient labels on treats like I'm reading a lease agreement. But you can't control a sidewalk. Last March, I was walking Biscuit — my three-year-old golden mix — down a street near our apartment. It was one of those weird late-winter days where the snow had just melted and everything on the ground was suddenly visible again. She's fast. She's always been fast. And before I even processed what was happening, she'd snatched something off the pavement and swallowed it. I thought it was garbage. Maybe a piece of bread. I didn't think anything of it. Two hours later, I thought she was dying. She started stumbling around the apartment like the floor was tilting. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She couldn't hold her head up right. And then the tremors started — this full-body shaking that made her look like she was cold, except it was 68 degrees inside and she was wrapped in her favorite blanket and nothing was helping. I know now that she got into an edible. THC poisoning. A brownie or something similar, just sitting on the sidewalk like a trap nobody set on purpose. But in that moment, I didn't know anything. I just knew my dog was shaking and I was terrified. I called the emergency vet. They told me to bring her in immediately. I grabbed her, grabbed my keys, and drove with one hand on the wheel and one hand on her back the entire way because I couldn't stand not touching her. The vet confirmed it pretty quickly. THC toxicity. Not fatal — she told me that first, and I almost cried from relief before she'd even finished the sentence. But not *nothing*, either. It needed to be addressed. They talked about inducing vomiting (too late, she'd already metabolized some of it), IV fluids, monitoring overnight. The bill was $740. I didn't care. I would've paid ten times that. But I also sat in that waiting room for four hours thinking about how I could have prevented this, how I should have been faster, how one second of inattention on a public sidewalk had put my dog in a medical crisis. She came home the next morning. Wobbly, exhausted, but okay. And I went straight to my phone and started researching. --- I spent the better part of three days going down every rabbit hole I could find about dogs and toxin ingestion. Forums, vet blogs, Reddit threads, university extension sites. (I have a problem with research spirals. My browser history during that week was genuinely unhinged.) What I kept coming back to was this: the window right after ingestion is everything. If you can intervene in those first minutes — before something is fully absorbed into the bloodstream — you can dramatically change the outcome. The problem is that most pet owners, like me, don't realize what's happened until the symptoms are already showing. By then, the toxin is in the system. But there's a second window. And that's where activated charcoal comes in. I'd heard of activated charcoal vaguely, in a human context — people using it for food poisoning, that kind of thing. But I hadn't known it was used in veterinary medicine too, and I definitely hadn't known it was available in a form you could actually administer at home before you even got to the vet. The same product kept coming up across different threads, different forums, different contexts: Pet+ Activated Charcoal Gel. The way it works — and I read probably six different explanations of this before I felt like I actually understood it — is that activated charcoal has an enormous surface area at the molecular level. It essentially *binds* to toxins in the GI tract, preventing them from being absorbed into the bloodstream. It doesn't treat what's already been absorbed. But if you catch it early enough, it can dramatically reduce how much gets absorbed in the first place. That's the part that kept sticking with me. If I'd had something like this on hand when Biscuit grabbed that thing off the sidewalk, I could have acted immediately instead of watching her deteriorate for two hours while I tried to figure out what was wrong. I found reviews from people who'd used it when their dogs got into grapes, into xylitol, into rat poison. People who said their vet had told them the early intervention made a real difference in how sick their dog got. One person wrote something like: "I keep this in my dog first aid kit the same way I keep a tourniquet in my car. I hope I never need it. But I need to have it." That sentence hit me somewhere specific. I ordered it that afternoon. $34.99. (For context: the emergency vet visit was $740. The follow-up was $180. The anxiety I'd carried for the past week was incalculable.) --- When it arrived, I read everything. The dosing guide, the instructions, the FAQ on their website. I wanted to actually understand how to use it, not just have it sitting in a cabinet. And then I put it in the little first aid pouch I keep in my dog bag. Right next to the bandages and the emergency vet number and the copies of her vaccination records. It sat there for a few weeks without being needed. Then my neighbor's dog — a two-year-old lab named Pretzel who has approximately zero impulse control — got into a bottle of ibuprofen that had rolled under the couch. My neighbor called me panicking because the emergency vet line had a 20-minute hold time and she didn't know what to do right now, in this moment, while she was waiting. I came over with the Pet+ gel. We administered it according to the weight-based dosing on the package, called poison control (which, for the record, is $85 per incident — worth every cent), and got her to the vet within the hour. The vet told my neighbor that the early charcoal administration had almost certainly reduced how much of the ibuprofen had been absorbed. Pretzel spent one night for monitoring instead of the multi-day hospitalization they'd initially anticipated. My neighbor cried in the vet parking lot. I thought about Biscuit's tremors. About those four hours in the waiting room. About how different it might have gone if I'd had thirty-five dollars worth of preparation instead of nothing. --- I'm not writing this because everything is fine and wrapped up neatly. I'm writing this because I live in a city, and cities have sidewalks, and sidewalks have things on them that my dog will absolutely try to eat. I cannot control that. I've accepted that. What I can control is what happens in the two minutes after. Biscuit is asleep at my feet right now. She's fine. She's completely, totally fine. But I think about that afternoon a lot — the stumbling, the glassy eyes, the tremors — and I think about how long it took me to understand what was happening and how helpless I felt during all of it. You don't get to rewind those two hours. But you can make sure the next two minutes go differently. The product is called Pet+ Activated Charcoal Gel. It's $34.99. It comes with a dosing guide. It fits in a jacket pocket or a dog bag or a glove compartment. If you walk your dog anywhere near other people — near parks, near streets, near anywhere food might end up on the ground — I'd just ask you to look it up. They have a money-back guarantee, so there's no real risk in trying. I just wish I'd had it six months earlier. Biscuit would have had a much better Tuesday.

Where the ad sends people

petplus.co

Read this if your dog eats ANYTHING outside 👆

Pet+ Activated Charcoal Gel — the first-aid kit essential for dogs & cats. Ready-to-use oral syringe, no mixing. Keep one on hand for the unexpected.