Managing My Dog’s Pancreatitis Flare Up Requires Dietary Management

Standard Internet Disclaimer:  I’m not a vet.

If you have a problem with your dog’s health go see a vet.

I can’t be responsible for any “bad advice” that you apply – GO SEE A VET if you suspect a problem.

I am but a blog writer, don’t let me be your only source of information.

However this is what worked for me.  I am not a Doctor, or a Vet.  I am however someone who has been on an “Athletic Training Diet” since 1979, so some of this is a lot of applied knowledge that came from my own trial and error.

The symptoms were that my dog got sluggish, started vomiting, and started refusing his food.  We had a bout with Diarrhea.

The Vet suspected Pancreatitis, and after research, it seemed very likely that this was the case.   We also suspected that he has always had this but it just hadn’t flared up yet.

It took a couple weeks worth of fiddling with his diet to figure this solution out.

The solution was “nuanced”.  There were a few subtle things that I was doing wrong, apparently very wrong for my dog.

 

The result was that he’s now healthy, two pounds lighter, and probably will always be on a low fat diet.

We never have completely figured out Rack’s nutritional problems.  I got him as a rescue puppy with some pretty severe problems.  Worms that took three cycles of de-worming powder to kill off.  What turned out to be an allergy to poultry and grain.

His nutrition as a puppy at 7 months took him longer to get figured out than I would have liked, and it resulted in him being on the “small and light” side for the breed.

He always got the grain free dry food, when I could convince him to eat it since his teeth were naturally missing in the back.

While that is a lot to manage, it triggered my own training diet mind in gear and I figured out what was wrong.  I lost 75 pounds in 2 years when younger and have maintained a better than normal build through nutrition and exercise in the too-many years since, I should be able to figure this out.

When the prepared dry food we were giving him moved production to the US, and to a state  known for lax enforcement of food quality standards, I panicked.  The quality would suffer so we needed a different way.  That brand later had a food recall for some reason and we heard that there were dogs endangered as a result.

I was forced to prepare his own food.  Twice a week, I would take 2 1/2 pounds of cooked and browned ground beef, add water, add powder and feed him that.  He did very well on it although he got bored with it after a while.

That should have been a cue something was up.

So I did an internet search for a crock pot dog food.  Found one recipe that is human safe, although very bland – I even tasted it.  He did very well on that but it did tire him after a while.

I kept feeding him the two foods, alternating every week between recipes.

Then the Pancreatitis hit.  I recognized the symptoms from my old dog, Lettie, who had it before she passed of kidney failure induced by “recalled dog food”.  The same symptoms.  Refusing food, sluggish, loose stool, occasional vomiting.

Rack at this point is in the prime of his life.  Five years old herding dog.  Should be beyond active.

I did some research and realized that treating him well was the problem.

We have a routine.  He gets his food at breakfast and dinner.  I rarely give him treats.  Almost never give him table scraps.

I have Pork more often than I have anything else.  I can make a pork tenderloin into something that is High End Restaurant quality.  Pork Tenderloin is a very forgiving recipe – 250F Slow oven until internally 140F.   Takes around two hours.  Marinade the Pork the night before in sauces of choice, I prefer Barbecue Sauce.

Try that recipe on Pork Loin and it works, although Pork Loin is much tougher.  Pork Loin also has a layer of fat left on it so it can soak down into the roast.

That was the problem.

Dogs do not digest pork fat well.

Two days before the incident, I had given him the fat from the top of my lunch pork.  I did that again the next day.

The third day, he later started refusing food.

HIS food never changed.  MY food had.  I went from the Pork Tenderloin which is just about the leanest meat you can get to Pork Loin and feeding him an ounce of fatty scraps.

On research it turns out that you should never feed a dog pork fat.  That includes Bacon.

Dogs can not digest it well, it tends to cause problems.  Like Pancreatitis.

So all snacks were cancelled.  He got a Fasting Day to clear his system of the fat.  His “regular food” was cut down to a quarter and served on a bed of white rice to be mixed in.

He began eating it slowly.

As his system cleared out, I mixed in proportionally more of the regular food.

He had a small flare up.

It turned out that the beef I was serving was a problem as well.  There was too much fat in the meat.  This was a “Utility Grade Meat” and as such had a significant quantity of added fat.  You could actually smell the fat in the resulting dog food.

Now my own cooking skills were brought to task.  I had a freezer full of Utility Grade Meat that needed to be de-fatted.

If you won’t eat it, don’t feed it to the dog.

Brown the meat and skim off as much fat as possible.

I was getting as much as a cup of fat skimmed off of 2 1/2 pounds of “beef”.

Prepare the normal recipes.

Success.

The only side effect was that he started losing weight.  That I can manage since he was acting hungry again.  His serving sizes were increased by an ounce at a time over the next couple weeks until the weight loss stopped and the begging slowed.

Now he’s doing fine.  Begging for Yogurt here is at a normal level and since I make the stuff for my own use, it’s not a problem.

Stools are normal.  Coat is shiny and soft.  No vomiting.

Best of all the energy level is higher than I remember it.  Which means that I get more exercise as well.

So:

  • Reduce the fat to the utmost minimum.
  • No table scraps ever.
  • No added sugar, ever.
  • No added salt, ever.
  • No treats of Bacon or other fat from the roasts.

It helped him out big time.  I’m back to being run around by a herding dog with a big personality.

Baby Sitting Bear, the Chow. An Old Herding Dog Owner Can Learn New Tricks

I got the request about a month ago.  I caved.  I forgot that if you are going to babysit another person’s dog, you should only do it at home.

Your home.  Only.

If your dog and theirs don’t get on, you should not do it.

Mind you, Bear, the other dog, and Rack, my own dog, get on quite well.  However Rack’s personality quirk of being explosively happy with almost every dog on the planet does not mesh well with many dogs.

I did not want to take the chance with Bear, and Bear lives across the street and a few houses down.

So, great, now I have another dog for about 2 weeks.  How do I manage.  After all, I’m used to having Herding Dogs.  18 years of almost continuously living with McNab dogs have led me to expect specific behavior.

Bear is a Chow.  He looks like a teddy bear.  His fur is the consistency of the stuffing of my living room sofa or a new pillow.  He likes me, and the feeling is mutual.

But if you want to know someone, you have to try to live with them.  Since we are talking about a dog, we are also talking about a creature that has been raised to expect certain behaviors that may be risky or unacceptable – to you.

Never did this, lets dive in.

First walk out, Bear was expecting to be the Hunter, and not be told where and how he may walk.  Oh sure, he’s got his walks, but he’s decided that every single Lizard on the planet is to be eaten.

Not a good idea, Lizards carry salmonella and I am not interested in packing a 70 pound dog into my Jeep and visiting a vet.

I had to teach him “No”.  Simple concept huh?  You see, I was almost pulled down by Bear.  There’s a little alcove just left of the apartment where on each side of a door is a palm cluster.  Perfect place for the little critters to live and Bear attacks it every time through.  Not wanting to be face down on the pavement kissing concrete, “NO!” was said every time we went past it.

With four walks a day, by day 2 the charging at the walls lessened, by day 3 that spot was off limit.

Yes, Bear was learning.

He was still as slow as molasses, but he was now more manageable.

Old Dogs Can Learn New Tricks.

Next step.  I had to relax on the walks.  These weren’t so much of a walk as a very slow trudge around the place.

This was because he was a Chow and they only need about 20 minutes of walking a day.  Total.  I had to look that one up.  Both me and my Rack are athletic.  I think a walk of anything less than a half mile is short. Bear on the other hand, no way.  I had to come back for that second walk of a day to “empty the dog” on those palm trees.

He refused to go off property.  I didn’t understand it but it did sink in.  We are in South Florida, in summer, and the Lunch Hour is VERY bright.  Sun angles of about 85 degrees at this time of year.  92F yesterday.   Almost “Due Up”.

Try that wearing a fur coat that will stop every breeze in its tracks.   I realized that this was the case when I saw him hunting the tiny little bits of shade we had around the building.

I’ll hold off walking the boy until the later walks, just let him “Have His Head” and decide where he wanted to go.

Here we are mid week.  The first walk was much easier.  He did a lap around the building, spotted one Lizard and looked at me before he walked over to it.

How a 70 pound dog can pull down a tall man of 223.4 pounds (this morning) is a bit of a surprise.  Bear is overweight, but he is a muscular overweight.

A much better reaction.  But that was it, we went for a walk, he did what he needed to, and we came back home.

I’ve simplified and rationalized his food recipe.  There is way too much salt in the recipe, however I’m going to hold off managing that for them.  Have a chat with the owner and make sure that he understands that a dog of 70 pounds should never have any more than 200mg salt per day.

I’m not a vet, I only play a Know-It-All on a blog.

Sitting with him after his breakfast early this morning though, he was looking for attention, and giving me warm vibes with his brown eyes.

Yeah, Bear’s a good dog.  11 out of 10.  Good boy.

Now, if I can only get through this week.

To Teach Success to Your Dog Is No Harder Than Building A Team

Hey!  Rack!  Want to go Out Front?
Blank stare.

I know what you really want.  I just choose to ignore it.  I have chosen my own reality.

The smarter the breed, the more mental stimulation that they need.   Sure, you gave your dog food, water, shelter.  You take them for walks hopefully with bags to pick up after them.

Things happen the same time every day, so now you have established a routine.  They don’t know why you get up and do things in a certain order, ice cubes to cool off the coffee after you brew it, why you go outside to check the yard at a specific time of day because the sprinklers come on.

 

They just like the order.

So when you throw the order off it gets strange results.

Mid morning mug of coffee happens because you think taking an afternoon nap at 10 AM is just a bit too … decadent for a busy day.

But you too need a break.

The feet scrape on the floor as you push from the desk and…

The dog trots to the back door.  Back door means that Rack can go explore, water my pots of Basil that keep sprouting in strange spots along with all the other involuntary plantings.

Wash the Basil well before it goes onto the Pizza, ok?

I sigh.

Rack, Front Yard.   I’m not sure if it is a request or an order.

Go water the rock!

*grumble*

There’s a duck trying to walk across the yard anyway, I have to convince that beast to go “elsewhere”.

Rack walks to a spot and stops.

I go outside take a step off the porch, the duck walks across the street and draws a box watching me every flap of those feet.   I take a second step when it stops and convince it otherwise.  I’m really tired of pressure washing the concrete because a duck parks itself there when I am not watching.

The duck dance ends with the beast five yards down.  I need my coffee anyway.

Rack hasn’t moved.  He’s bored.

By the time I have taken the first sip, he’s looked out back again, came over sat down and is looking at me through the side of his eye pretending he’s not being seen begging for attention.

He may think he’s being slick but I think that’s the Reality of Dog when you are a herding dog who does not know how to herd, nor chase any other creatures.

Except me of course.

Second sip happens as I take my hand away from petting him, turning his head, telling him that he’s the Goodest Boy Ever But You Are Not Surprising Me A BIT!

I think aloud “I’d take you in the Jeep somewhere but not just yet”.

Shouldn’t have said that.  Now he’s glued to my side thinking he put the words together saying that a ride was happening RIGHT NOW.

Maybe later, I tell him.  Dogs have a really awful sense of what “later” is.

You can indeed have a highly active, highly intelligent Herding dog in a small house in the suburbs.   You just have to be trained.

Cesar Millan is right, people can be trained.  The dog knows how to Dog.

Herding dogs need a job.  I am Rack’s Job.  Truth be told, anyone in the house is family even if they aren’t or at least by the second visit they are.  Family is the job.  Even that noisy as hell parrot in the back room’s window, Oscar.

But Oscar is a very different story indeed.

I move my feet off the footstool at my workstation.

Mistake.  The whole cycle starts over.  Rack thinks that Things Are Happening.

Yeah, I’m grabbing the headphones so I can listen to that Norteño music from Mexicali Mexico that I find I like even if it is “educational for me”.  Time to go to the kitchen

After a fashion he’s right.  Potatoes go in the oven for the Roast Pork Lunch that he is waiting for.

Of course he waits for it.  He gets to do his sad little Me Too Routine so that he gets some pork, excellently cooked even if I do say so myself.

Not every herding dog could do it.  After all, support dogs don’t always make the program.  I don’t need that much support, companionship is about the extent of it.  Just don’t raid the trash or the recycling.  You won’t get away with it because the house is too small for that.

Besides, a metal bowl on top of the trash can’s lid makes a heck of a sound when it crashes to earth.

But this is how we solved a completely broken down mental state when we got him.  I’m a big loud man.  I never decided that we would change, but he would be given every opportunity to learn how to live with us.

Teach success.  It’s best for dogs, people, even you and me.  Given the chance to excel, most will make an effort to reach your expectations and then leave them in the dust.

It’s a team building exercise.  Not one bit different than how I taught programmers how to be systems analysts so I could go off and be a project manager in a traditional setting.  Your Systems Analyst just has black and white fur and a wet nose.

When we got him, his first walk in the neighborhood was on his belly slinking across the street one paw at a time, to meet Lisa and Bill, our former neighbors.  He never learned that people can be fun and exciting.

Until he met us.  Now everything is an opportunity to learn.

Teach success.  It’s easy.

If your dog is barking like it’s insane, you’re not keeping its mind active.

But it is also your responsibility.  A dog that knows his place in the family, or the pack, lives a longer happier life.

So will you.

A cat walks into a bar… And out again, and in again, and out again, and in again

I’m a dog kind of guy, not that I hide that very well.

Thing is that allergies don’t let that change much.

Right now. My boy Rack is being quiet but he is finding his voice.

Of course, after seeing all the viral videos of the Shiba Inu in Japan that knows how to bark softly, I have to try to train him to do that.

A Warning Bark in a “small house” does not have to rattle the china. A simple “woof.” will suffice.

Yeah good luck with that, right? After all, how would you know what he’s barking at if you can’t hear him?

 
A guy posts a sign needing to hire someone that can type 60 wpm, use a computer and is bilingual

This dog walks in”Woof!”

The man says “What? You going to apply for this job?”

The dog says “Woof!” Walks to the sign, grabs it and puts it in the man’s lap.

The man says “Alright…but can you type 60 wpm?”

The dog “Woof!” Walks to the typewriter and commences to typing perfectly, 60 wpm with no errors. The man is impressed and says “There is no way you can operate a computer though.”

The dog “Woof! Woof!” Walks to the computer and operates it perfectly. The man then says “There is no way you are bilingual”

The dog immediately jumps up on the chair, sits on his haunches and goes “MEOW!”

Once Again, Walk In The Grass, Rack

A Police Officer who was a dog handler once said: “On their best day, they’re still a dog.”

Then again, I heard of a rancher who once said: “If you can’t train a McNab, you can’t train a dog.”

Toe-may-toes, Toe-mah-toes.

You see, my boy Rack has a problem.  He’s got horrible aim.

Oh, sure, he lifts his leg often.  But as we’re walking along, I make sure that my own leg is well away from his.

I don’t think I need to be watered, I’m quite tall enough.

Stand upwind, about 4 to 6 feet away, and watch where he’s going.

He’s pure black and white, with a bit of yellow on his feet after a walk.

Oh I have heard many male dogs suffer from bad aim.  You can’t really train him to “sit down” while he pees, I would expect the problem move from one of his feet to a big ol’ stripe down his white patch on his belly.

I gave up obsessing about his aim.  After all, he’s about 5 now.  He’s doing what he’s going to do and that’s that.

Early on, we realized we had a problem with him being crosseyed when he’s pointing, figuratively of course.  Since there’s a porch in front of the house and the water spigot for the garden is right there next to the porch, we solved it.  A Semi Permanent addition to the porch is a garden hose with a spray attachment is sitting draped over the iron railing and charged with water.

Water saver, of course.

We fell into a routine.

I would successfully get out of the way of his watering efforts, then when we get home, I would use the hose.

Every.  Blasted.  Walk.

Three.  Times.  A.  Day.

I take him to the hose, soak down his feet.  The white part of his legs, all four of them, turn from yellow to white.  He is no longer a “Yellow Footed Collie” but a “Wet Footed Collie”.

Originally we would go inside at this point but that left little paw prints of water everywhere and I found myself going to find the mop more often than not.

Then I got the bright idea to walk him once around the tree in front of the house.  I stopped that when I realized my own feet had tramped down a path making the house look wrong.

So Training the Dog to walk around the yard on his own was successful.

Him walking in the grass would get extra water off his feet and brush his toes to get any extra detritus from between them.

A strategically placed mat inside the door soaked up what was left.

However, “On His Best Day…”  He would act like a kid.

Once out into the yard, he’d start cutting corners.  Shorter loops around the car, and eventually he is skipping the grass all together.   More things are getting tracked indoors.

Does this sound like a five year old kid to you?

Eager to please but needing an adjustment, I started telling him to go back out and do it again.

And again… until he manged to walk the grass.

Turf, really, this St Augustine Grass we have in South Florida is more like a carpet or that fake astroturf stuff they put in football stadiums that isn’t all that pleasant to fall on.

It’s taken him about a week to get used to the routine, but Dog Logic being Dog Logic, it’s not completely perfect.

He now thinks that you do it twice.  Once to cut corners, a second time to actually walk the grass around the car.

At least it’s getting done.

He seems to like the routine.  As he’s doing it “wrong” the first time, he’s got a smile on his doggy face.

“Nope!  Walk in the grass, Boy!”.

Brown eyes flash at me, smile resets, and he does it right.

When he gets out to the tail of the car “Good Boy!” and I get a “wag right” to prove that he’s happy about it all.

Happy dog wags tail right, not-completely-happy dog wags tail left.

Ok, so it’s not perfect, but it is entertaining.

Intelligent Dogs and Perfect Pork Loin May Cause A Thunderstorm

I have created a monster.

Or I have broken my dog.

You see, intelligent dogs are wonderful, but they learn better than you expect.  That includes learning you, your actions, and your environment.

There are many stories about people teaching their dogs hand signals because they’re deaf, and they work out admirably.  If you watch a dog “acting” on a television show, they’re merely performing an action based on a trainer’s hand signal that is made off camera.

On the other hand, my dog knows that if I say OK out of the blue, something is about to happen.  I tend to use this as a “clear the decks, I’m about to say something” noise word.

If I sit at my computer, which I do for far too much time, I have to be careful where I put my feet.  Not that he wants to sit under them, but he listens for my feet sliding across the floor.  That means, at least to him, that I am getting up.

If I am getting up, something will happen.

It’s a small house and my own kitchen-desk-door route has a lot of things that are interesting to dogs, and I do like to cook.

A Lot.

 

If I’m in the kitchen things sometimes fall to the floor and a snack happens.

There’s also the Psycho-kinesis effect.

If Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM) stares long enough, food magically appears from the refrigerator.  The food then magically lifts itself from the plate and onto the floor.  It is at this time when the food can be scooped up and gobbled down.

It’s all quiet, and not very Lab-Like.  Labs have a genetic mutation sometimes that their hunger never shuts off.  It would be better off if we as humans would stop breaking dogs and engineering traits like constant hunger and flat faces into dogs, but that isn’t something that will stop today.

I do have a lunch ritual.  I have convinced him that if he does not beg, he does get a treat.

Recently I made a BBQ Pork Roast.  Take three pounds or so of Pork, marinade overnight in Barbecue Sauce.  Cook at 225F (low and slow) for about 2 hours or until internal temperature is at 145F.  140 is the lowest temperature according to the USDA for Pork to be “done” these days, and I slipped and went up a bit.  However, I simply turned off the oven, and made the side dishes in the microwave.  About 10 or 15 minutes later, the internal temperature was 155 and I was ready to have lunch.

Some of the best damn pork I have ever had, frankly.

4 ounces for me, 1 ounce for Rack.

But if he hovers, he gets nothing.

He really loves pork, so he’s made the connection of not to stare.  We have a routine that must be followed.  When the food gets set down, he gets up from the corner, walks over and sits down.

Just like that.  Automatically.

One of those boundary issues happens next.   He looses his mind.  All at once.

Gently he sits down but is levitating.  Magically he glides closer as if he’s floating on air.  Snout gets within inches of the plate.  There are a few morsels of perfectly prepared pork loin sitting there.

He only does this with Pork.  Chicken he doesn’t like as much.  On the other hand, if it is not Pork, I tell him Not For Dogs and he backs down immediately.

I’m making his entry fee higher each time.  More and more tricks.

He knows how to say “Yes” by nodding his head, I did say he was intelligent.  But now, I ask him.

“Do you want some pork?”

I get The Look.

“No, answer me, yes or no?”

I don’t think he likes being taught.  I put my finger on his muzzle and say “Yessss” in an exaggerated tone while pushing down a bit.

He didn’t really respond.

Try again “Yeessss” , pushing down.

Hmmm we’re not getting this.  Foot comes up off the ground and he waves it around thinking I want to shake.

“No, I didn’t want Foot.  Do you want some pork? ‘Yesssss”?”

Eyes dart back and forth.  Some minor movement detected.  I accept that as a “Yes”.

“Funny, you’ll break your neck nodding up and down like a bobblehead at the back door but you won’t say Yes for your favorite!”

Head cocks to one side.  “Oh sure, just be Cute”

Foot comes up, then other foot.  “Here, have your pork”.

May as well give in, he knows he’s getting it.   “Just step back a little, you’re too close and it is My plate after all”

I get to smile a small smile, he’s understanding even if he doesn’t do Yes predictably.

Fortunately that pork loin has another week and a half worth of lunches.

Except when I need to exercise the Jeep.  Then he loses his mind because he wants to come along for when I go out for a Ride! in the Car! to get Lunch!.

Shower, primp, and prep for being out in the public, I’m being watched.

Get dressed, and he’s winding up.

Pacing from back to front door.

Looking in at my sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on my boots, he’s weaving between my legs and the bed.

“You’re not making this easy” as I scritch his back and his back side.

He’s wiggling around and bouncing, trying to convince me that he needs a sidekick.

At this point I know I can either take him with me by saying “Go wait at the front door” or “Sorry Rack you get to stay home and watch the house”.

But only on Saturday and Sunday.    Any other day and he’s fine with it.  Doing his job of guarding the corner and slacking off.

Lots of slacking off.

Rides in the Jeep are where he’s overexcited, drooling onto the tan fabric, and absolutely rigid in the passenger seat.

But it’s all in having a dog that is just about as intelligent as your average second grade honor student wrapped in fur.

Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just, someone, please, cover me.  Lunch is coming, and Pork is happening.

Save a Pet’s Life, or a Person’s, and Learn CPR

My morning walks sometimes take a weird turn.

I was wandering around town following the dog.  It was about 2 hours before dawn, normal for us.

I was decidedly allowing my dog, Rack the McNab Superdog (TM) to lead.   We hit the south end of town and were in a parking lot near the park there.  He just veered off to the right to head into the neighborhood there and slowed down wagging his tail.

There I saw, approaching us, my neighbor, Juan.  We greeted as normal, which is to say he was excitedly starting to tell me a story.

“I just about lost my dog!  He was laying there dying!”

Yes, that’s a bit dramatic for just before 6AM.  It turns out his dog had either swallowed something or really had just decided to cross that damn Rainbow Bridge on his own.

What he told me was that he picked up “Bear” and performed the Heimlich on the dog followed by chest compressions.

“That is just what my first aid training would have told me to do with a person, I’m glad you saved him!”

Long story short… Bear is alive because someone knew just what to do.

That happened with my nephew, Jon, when he was around 4 years old.  I was at their house.  He ate “something” and it got caught in his windpipe.  Of course being a kid, he ran out of the room and upstairs.  I came calling after him.  He was getting wobbly and blue in the face.

I ordered him (yes, ordered.  That command presence can be very useful!)  to turn around.  He fell against me.  I put my fist into a ball and applied pressure just under the rib cage.

Well, with a gush of air and a splat, the offending piece of food ended up stuck on my Mom’s grey wall paper on top of the stairs at her house in Cherry Hill.

My nephew is still alive to this day.

You can do this to yourself.  I did.

Watermelon with seeds are wonderful.  Without seeds they taste like a basketball.  Trust me, I’m from New Jersey.  I bit off more than I could chew and it got stuck in my windpipe.

Relax, don’t panic, relax your abdomen, and push sharply on your abdomen.

The fruit popped out of my windpipe immediately.

Whenever possible, I always have maintained my Red Cross First Aid training.  If you get a chance to take it, don’t blow it off, you may be that guardian angel that someone or someone’s pet needs to survive.

Oh and skip the rawhide “treats”.  That stuff is evil and stuffed with questionable chemicals.

It is leather after all.  Would you like to chew on a handbag?  A shoe?

When your dog goes to swallow the “treat”, it may form a plug in their throat or windpipe and if you aren’t watching, you’ll be left in tears as your trusted friend makes that trip across the Rainbow Bridge.

If you do know CPR and the Heimlich maneuver, the actions are similar on a dog or a cat to what you’d do to a person.

Choking, see if you can clear the windpipe or the throat of any obstructions, and if not, apply pressure to the abdomen.  There’s a one page PDF here from the SPCA explaining exactly how.

As far as CPR is concerned the instructions are to place your hands on the ribcage and do chest compressions at the rate of 20 per minute, or the speed of “Staying Alive” then two rescue breaths into their nose.  A Better explanation can be found here on the Red Cross.

They all recommend after an issue like this to get your pet to a vet for an exam since they can’t talk.

My nephew Jon didn’t need a vet.  Nor a doctor.