How do you treat heat exhaustion in dogs

It’s a humid afternoon in Miami, and your border collie, Rio, suddenly stumbles mid-stroll—his normally perky ears flop forward, and his tongue lolls so far out it almost touches the sidewalk. His paws leave damp prints, not from water, but from excessive drooling, and when you call his name, he blinks slowly instead of trotting over. This isn’t just a lazy spell; heat exhaustion in dogs can escalate in 10 minutes flat, and knowing how to respond matters. Dogs cool down primarily through panting, which works less efficiently when humidity spikes—think of it like trying to dry off in a steam room. Their normal body temp sits around 101-102.5°F; once it hits 104°F, cells start to stress, and that’s when you need to act.

First, get them out of the heat immediately. Last summer, my cousin in Tampa found her dachshund, Duke, struggling in the backyard—she scooped him up and laid him on the cool tile of her kitchen floor (avoid ice or cold water; sudden temperature drops shock their system). Wet a washcloth with room-temperature water and wipe his armpits, groin, and paw pads—those are the spots where blood vessels sit close to the skin, helping release heat. Offer small sips of water from your hand, not a bowl—gulping can cause vomiting. If he won’t drink, don’t force it; focus on cooling first.

For apartment dwellers in cities like Boston, where brick buildings trap heat, keep a “heat kit” ready: a frozen water bottle wrapped in a towel, a collapsible bowl, and a list of 24-hour vets. Flat-faced breeds like pugs or bulldogs need extra care—their short snouts make panting less effective, so even a 75°F day in a stuffy 5th-floor unit can be risky. Move their bed near an AC vent, and skip midday walks entirely. When you do head out, stick to shaded trails in the community park, test pavement with your bare foot (if it burns you, it’ll burn them), and always pack poop bags—cities like Seattle fine $75 for leaving waste, heat wave or not.

Never drag a lethargic dog to “keep going.” Positive reinforcement means praising them when they rally, not yanking the leash—stress only raises their body temp more. While you’re at it, check their vaccine records: most dog parks in Phoenix or Chicago require up-to-date rabies shots, and a quick photo on your phone keeps you compliant. By sunset, Rio should be napping on his cooling mat, tail thumping when you rattle his treat jar. That’s the win: turning a scary moment into a reminder of how well you know your pup.