Otto was barely more than a puppy when his life came to a halt. As young spaniel, he was brought to Bath Cats and Dogs Home with a request no one ever wants to hear: euthanasia. His guardian could no longer cope with his behaviour. Otto bit without warning, woke growling in the night, chewed obsessively at his toys, and at times seemed oddly detached from the world around him. He could sit quietly on a lap, apparently settled, then suddenly yelp and snap, breaking the skin with sharp puppy teeth.

To the veterinary team, the picture looked bleak. Otto was young, the behaviours were escalating rather than resolving, and conventional routes offered little hope. The decision to put him to sleep was made. By chance, I was due to run an applied zoopharmacognosy class at the centre. The staff asked if the euthanasia could be delayed until after the session, in the hope that something might offer insight into what was driving Otto’s behaviour.

What happened next changed everything.

When presented with a range of remedies, Otto bypassed them all and went straight to those associated with pain relief. He showed a marked and sustained interest in birch essential oil, inhaling deeply and remaining with it for an extended period. After this focused engagement, his body visibly softened. He yawned repeatedly, classic signs of release, then lay down and fell into a deep, settled sleep. That evening, Rosie, the behaviourist caring for Otto, took the birch oil home with her. Once there, Otto became animated but not agitated, bouncing playfully with the bottle, keeping it close, guarding its scent, returning to it again and again. Most importantly he became calm. For the first time, Rosie slept through the night without being woken by growling, or his distress.

Over the following week, Otto continued to select pain-related remedies, particularly birch. Then, he stopped, and his interest faded. Alongside this shift, the biting ceased, the night-time disturbances disappeared, and the compulsive behaviours fell away. The transformation was so complete that the veterinary team reversed their decision. Otto was placed up for adoption, and soon after, he went home.

The final piece of the puzzle emerged later. Otto’s new family discovered a shard of wood in his faeces. It had not shown up on X-rays and had likely been lodged in his gut for some time, causing ongoing, significant pain. The wood could be traced back to his original home; since it wasn’t present in neither Rosie’s home nor his adoptive one. Pain, not aggression,’ had been the silent driver all along.

Otto didn’t just recover. He thrived. In time, he became a Pets as Therapy (PAT) dog, offering calm, comfort, and reassurance to others, an inspirational outcome for a dog once deemed beyond help.

Otto’s story is a powerful reminder that behaviour is often communication, and that self-medication can reveal what observation alone may not. When animals are allowed to express choice, they can show us precisely, where the real problem lies.