Best Dog Toothpaste in 2026: VOHC-Accepted, Enzymatic, and Actually Worth Buying

The Short Answer: What Actually Works for a Dog’s Teeth

Most dog toothpastes are flavor. A few are chemistry. The gap between those two categories is wider than the pet aisle lets on, and it is the reason two tubes that look identical on the shelf can differ by a factor of twenty in cost per ounce and by an entire evidence tier in what they actually do.

By age three, roughly 80–90% of dogs have some degree of periodontal disease. By five, the figure climbs past 93%. That is not a scare tactic; it is the baseline against which every toothpaste claim should be read. Brushing is the intervention. Toothpaste is the adjunct. The best dog toothpaste is the one your dog will tolerate every day, that is safe to swallow, and that has evidence behind its plaque or tartar claim — in that order, because a rejected tube gets zero compliance and a swallowed human paste gets a vet visit.

The short list for 2026 is narrow. Petsmile Professional is the only toothpaste on the US market carrying the Veterinary Oral Health Council (VOHC) seal for plaque and tartar. Virbac C.E.T. Enzymatic is the vet-counter benchmark with a named dual-enzyme system, though it is not VOHC-accepted. Petrodex is the value enzyme play at roughly a third of the per-ounce cost of Petsmile. Everything else is a flavor decision layered on top of those three anchors.

If you want the one-line version: buy the VOHC paste if you want the paper trail, buy the Virbac tube if you want what most clinics actually stock, and buy Petrodex if the budget is real and the dog is not picky. The rest of this guide explains why, where the pricing gets stupid, and what the labels are not telling you.

Best Dog Toothpastes in 2026: The Shortlist That Survives Scrutiny

This is not a list of every tube on Chewy. It is the shortlist that survives three filters: a clear mechanism (enzymatic, Calprox, or mechanical abrasive), a safety profile that assumes the dog swallows the paste, and a price per ounce that does not quietly punish daily use. Five products made the cut. Two are enzyme-first, one is non-enzymatic but VOHC-accepted, one is a gel for sensitive mouths, and one is the budget tube that does not pretend to be anything else.

1. Petsmile Professional Pet Toothpaste — The Only VOHC-Accepted Paste

Petsmile is the evidence answer. The VOHC seal on the tube is not a marketing sticker; it means the product passed controlled studies showing at least a 20% reduction in plaque or tartar against a control, reviewed by board-certified veterinary dentists. As of 2026, only about 32 dog products across all categories carry that seal out of hundreds on the market. Petsmile is the only toothpaste in the group.

The mechanism is different from the enzyme crowd. Petsmile uses Calprox, a calcium peroxide formula that dissolves the protein pellicle — the sticky film plaque uses as scaffolding. It is not enzymatic, which matters if you have been told “enzymatic” is the only thing that works. It is not. The VOHC acceptance is for plaque and tartar, and that is a higher evidentiary bar than “contains enzymes.”

The catch is price. A 4.2-oz tube runs about $24.97, which works out to roughly $5.94 per ounce. That is not cheap. But a tube at a pea-sized daily dose lasts three months, putting the cost at around 20 cents a day. Compare that to a professional cleaning at $300–$720 under anesthesia, and the math stops looking aggressive. The flavor lineup — rotisserie chicken, London broil, say cheese — is built for dogs that turn their nose up at mint. If your dog rejects poultry, this is the brand with the widest palatability net.

One more thing: Petsmile is not ADA-approved. The American Dental Association’s seal is a human oral-care program. The VOHC is the veterinary equivalent, and confusing the two is a common error in competitor roundups. Petsmile is VOHC-accepted. That is the relevant credential.

2. Virbac C.E.T. Enzymatic Toothpaste — The Vet-Counter Standard

Virbac C.E.T. is what you see on the counter at a lot of clinics, and for a reason that has nothing to do with a seal. The formula names its enzymes — glucose oxidase, lactoperoxidase, and potassium thiocyanate — and the system is designed to work with saliva to control oral bacteria and slow new plaque formation. It is the reference product for “enzymatic dog toothpaste” as a category.

What it is not is VOHC-accepted. That is not proof of ineffectiveness; it means the manufacturer has not submitted the product to the VOHC review process, or has not passed it, and the distinction matters when you are comparing labels. Virbac’s reputation is built on clinical familiarity and a formula that vets trust, not on a seal. If your vet sells it, that is a different kind of endorsement — a professional one, not an evidence-panel one.

Price is the middle ground. A 2.5-oz tube sits around $12.29 at Chewy, which is roughly $4.92 per ounce. The tube is smaller than Petrodex and Arm & Hammer, so the sticker price looks lower while the per-ounce cost is higher. That is the oldest trick in the pet aisle: shrink the tube, keep the shelf price psychologically friendly. Virbac’s five flavors — poultry, beef, vanilla mint, malt, and seafood — give picky dogs an off-ramp. The poultry is the safest first bet.

The enzyme system is the selling point, and it is a legitimate one. Enzymatic pastes are not a gimmick; they are a category with a plausible mechanism. The gimmick is when a tube says “enzymatic” and lists no enzymes. Virbac lists them. That is the minimum standard for taking the claim seriously.

3. Petrodex Enzymatic Toothpaste — The Value Enzyme Play

Petrodex is the tube that makes daily brushing economically boring, which is exactly what daily brushing should be. A 6.2-oz tube runs about $9.94, or roughly $1.60 per ounce. That is a third of Virbac’s per-ounce cost and a fraction of Petsmile’s, and it uses the same dual-enzyme architecture — glucose oxidase and lactoperoxidase — that made the category credible.

The trade-off is texture and palatability. Petrodex is thicker and less “treat-like” than Petsmile or Virbac, and some dogs who accept the pricier tubes will give the cheaper one a skeptical sniff. Reviews are mixed on this point: some owners report their dogs love the poultry flavor, others say the paste makes brushing take longer because the dog is less cooperative. That is not a formula failure; it is a compliance variable, and compliance is the whole game.

For a multi-dog household or an owner who is committed to daily brushing and does not want to ration a $25 tube, Petrodex is the rational default. The enzyme system is real, the price per ounce is the lowest in the shortlist, and the tube is large enough that you are not scraping the bottom every three weeks. If the dog rejects it, you have lost $10 and learned something about your dog’s palate. That is a cheaper experiment than a $25 tube.

4. Vet’s Best Enzymatic Dental Gel — The Sensitive-Mouth Option

Vet’s Best sits between the clinical pastes and the budget tubes. The formula is a gel rather than a paste, built around glucose oxidase plus a botanical blend that includes aloe, neem oil, grapefruit seed extract, and baking soda. The gel texture is the differentiator: it spreads with less friction, which matters for a dog with inflamed gums or a mouth that is tender from tartar buildup.

At roughly $2.72 per ounce for a 3.5-oz tube, it is not the cheapest per-ounce option, but it is priced to try. The “sensitive” positioning is not a clinical claim — it is a texture and ingredient claim. That is worth being clear about. Vet’s Best does not carry the VOHC seal, so the plaque claim is not third-party validated. What it does have is a formula that avoids harsh abrasives and a gel consistency that some dogs tolerate better than a thick paste.

This is the tube to consider if your dog has had a dental procedure and the mouth is still healing, or if brushing has been a struggle because the paste feels gritty. It is not the tube to buy if you want the strongest evidence for plaque reduction. Those are different jobs, and no single product does both at the top of its class.

5. Arm & Hammer Fresh Breath Enzymatic — The Budget Tube

Arm & Hammer is the mass-market answer: enzymatic with a baking soda base, a 6.2-oz tube for around $7, and a per-ounce cost near $1.13. It is not VOHC-accepted, the enzyme system is not named as precisely as Virbac’s or Petrodex’s, and the texture is closer to a conventional paste than a gel. It is also the tube that a lot of owners actually buy, because it is on the shelf at Walmart and it costs less than a sandwich.

The baking soda is doing two jobs: mild abrasion and breath freshening. That is a legitimate mechanical contribution, but it is not the same as an enzyme system with a named mechanism. Arm & Hammer is the tube to buy when the alternative is not brushing at all. That sounds like a backhanded compliment, but in a category where fewer than 10% of owners brush daily, it is not.

Do not expect the VOHC seal to appear on this one, and do not expect the ingredient panel to read like a clinical abstract. Expect a tube that is cheap enough to replace without wincing and palatable enough that most dogs will accept poultry flavor. For a first-time brusher who is still figuring out whether the routine will stick, that is a reasonable place to start.

The Real Cost of Dog Toothpaste: Price per Ounce, Not Price per Tube

Pet toothpaste pricing is designed to confuse. Tubes range from 2.5 to 6.5 ounces, so the sticker price tells you almost nothing about what you are actually paying. The only number that matters is price per ounce, and once you calculate it, the shortlist reshuffles.

The daily cost column is the one that should drive the decision. At a pea-sized dose — roughly half a gram for a medium dog — even the most expensive tube on the list costs about 20 cents a day. Over a year, that is $73 for Petsmile versus $7 for Arm & Hammer. The gap is real, but it is smaller than the sticker shock suggests, and it is dwarfed by the cost of a single professional cleaning.

There is a second pricing trap: the “kit” bundle. A toothpaste-plus-toothbrush kit often looks like a deal because the toothbrush is “free.” It usually is not. The kit price is the paste price plus a marked-up brush, and the brush is the part you can buy separately for $3–$6. If you already have a brush that your dog tolerates, buy the tube alone. The “free” brush is the pet aisle’s version of a free tote bag with a $200 purchase — the margin is already in the number.

Retailer spreads are also wider than they should be. The same 2.5-oz Virbac tube ranges from $12.29 at Chewy to $24.99 at Tractor Supply, depending on flavor. That is not a different product; it is the same tube with a different shelf. Chewy and PetCareRx sit at the low end for Virbac, PetSmart lands in the middle, and Walmart and Tractor Supply run higher for the same flavor. A two-minute price check before checkout is worth more than any loyalty program.

Enzymatic vs. Non-Enzymatic: What the Label Is Actually Telling You

“Enzymatic” is the most abused word in the pet dental aisle. It sounds like a mechanism, and sometimes it is one. Sometimes it is a flavor descriptor with a chemistry diploma.

A genuine enzymatic toothpaste lists the enzymes. The two that matter in this category are glucose oxidase and lactoperoxidase. Virbac C.E.T. names both, plus potassium thiocyanate. Petrodex uses the same dual-enzyme system. When a label says “enzymatic” and lists neither enzyme, treat the claim as marketing until proven otherwise.

What enzymes actually do is not brushing in a tube. They do not scrub plaque off the tooth. They support the saliva’s natural antibacterial system, which slows the bacteria that form plaque and helps prevent that plaque from hardening into tartar. The brush does the mechanical work; the enzyme buys you time between brushings. That is a useful adjunct, not a replacement for the brush.

Petsmile is the counterexample that keeps the category honest. It is not enzymatic. It uses Calprox, a calcium peroxide formula that dissolves the protein pellicle plaque clings to. It is VOHC-accepted for plaque and tartar, which is a stronger evidence claim than most enzymatic tubes can make. The lesson is not that enzymatic is bad. The lesson is that “enzymatic” is one mechanism among several, and the VOHC seal is the only shortcut through the noise.

For a dog with a normal mouth and a compliant owner, either mechanism works as part of a daily routine. For a dog with existing tartar, neither paste removes it — tartar mineralizes within 24–36 hours and after that only a professional scaling takes it off. The paste is prevention, not treatment. Understanding that distinction is the difference between buying a tool and buying a promise.

What “Dog Safe” Means — and What It Doesn’t

“Dog safe toothpaste” is not a regulated term. There is no federal standard that a tube must meet before printing it. What exists is a short list of ingredients that will hurt a dog, and a longer list of ingredients that are fine because the dog swallows the paste instead of spitting it out.

The non-negotiables are simple. Xylitol is toxic to dogs; it is a sugar alcohol used in sugar-free human products, including some toothpastes, and it can cause hypoglycemia and liver failure. Fluoride is not for swallowed paste; dogs do not rinse and spit, and chronic fluoride exposure is a real risk. Sodium lauryl sulfate is the foaming agent in human toothpaste; dogs dislike the foam and it serves no purpose in a paste they swallow. Any tube that contains those three is not a dog toothpaste, regardless of what the label says.

What “safe” does mean is that the product is formulated for a species that swallows the paste. That is why pet toothpastes are non-foaming, why they use edible oils and abrasives instead of detergents, and why the flavors are poultry, beef, peanut butter, or malt instead of mint. Mint is not toxic to dogs in small amounts, but most dogs hate it, and a toothpaste the dog hates is a toothpaste that does not get used. “Dog mint toothpaste” exists as a search term; as a product category, it is a niche for dogs that happen to tolerate mint, not a default.

The species distinction matters more than owners realize. Some ingredients in dog dental products can be toxic to cats, and the reverse is also true. A dog toothpaste is not a cat toothpaste, and a cat toothpaste is not a dog toothpaste. If you have both species in the house, buy two tubes and store them separately. The savings from sharing a tube are not worth the risk.

Puppy Toothpaste: What Changes Before Six Months

Puppies can use the same toothpaste as adult dogs, with one condition: it has to be non-toxic, fluoride-free, and formulated for pets. There is no separate “puppy chemistry” that makes adult dog toothpaste dangerous. The difference is behavioral, not chemical.

What changes before six months is the training window. A puppy that learns to tolerate a finger brush and a pea-sized amount of poultry-flavored paste at twelve weeks is a dog that will accept brushing at three years. A puppy that first sees a toothbrush at eighteen months is a dog that will need a desensitization protocol. The toothpaste is the easy part; the handling is the work.

Start with a finger brush, not a long-handled brush. Put a small amount of paste on your finger and let the puppy lick it, then gently rub the outer surfaces of the teeth. The goal in the first week is not cleaning; it is association. Paste equals treat equals calm. If the puppy rejects the flavor, switch flavors before you switch methods — a dog that likes the taste will forgive a lot of clumsy brushing. RADIUS Organic Puppy Dental Solutions Kit is one of the few explicitly puppy-positioned kits on the US market, and it is priced to try at around $9–$13.

The one thing not to do is use human toothpaste as a shortcut because the puppy is small and the teeth are easy to reach. That is exactly the scenario where xylitol exposure happens: a small dog, a small amount of paste, and an owner who does not know the ingredient is toxic. The puppy window is when the habit is built. Build it around a tube that is safe to swallow.

Sensitive Teeth, Sensitive Stomach: When “Gentle” Is Not Marketing Fluff

A dog with sensitive teeth is usually a dog with inflamed gums, and an inflamed mouth is not a mouth that wants a thick, gritty paste scrubbed across it. The “sensitive” label in this category is doing two different jobs: texture and ingredient load. Both matter, and neither is regulated.

Texture is the more immediate variable. A gel spreads with less friction than a paste, which is why Vet’s Best’s gel format has a following among owners of dogs with tender mouths. A paste with coarse abrasives can feel like sandpaper on gums that are already sore. If your dog flinches when the brush touches the gum line, the problem may be the paste’s grit, not the brush.

Ingredient load is the second variable. Some dogs have GI upset from swallowing certain pastes, particularly those with baking soda as a primary abrasive. Baking soda is safe in the tiny amounts used on a toothbrush, but a dog that swallows a larger glob can get a stomach ache. If your dog has a sensitive stomach, look for a paste with a simpler ingredient panel and a gel texture, and use less per session. A thin smear is enough; the brush does the work.

The honest caveat is that “sensitive” is not a clinical claim. There is no VOHC category for sensitive teeth, and no US regulator defines what the word means on a pet toothpaste tube. What you can do is match the texture and the ingredient panel to the dog in front of you. A dog that tolerates a gel and rejects a paste is telling you something useful. Listen to the dog, not the label.

Plaque, Tartar, and the VOHC Seal: The Only Shortcut Through the Hype

The VOHC seal is the closest thing this category has to a referee. It was founded in 1997 under the American Veterinary Dental College, and it operates like a stripped-down version of the ADA seal for human products: companies submit their own data, but the data must come from controlled, peer-reviewable studies showing at least a 20% reduction in plaque and/or tartar compared to a control. A panel of board-certified veterinary dentists reviews it.

As of 2026, only about 32 dog products carry the seal out of hundreds on the market. That is not because the other products are all worthless. It is because the seal is expensive and slow to obtain, and most brands do not bother. The seal is a filter, not a verdict. A product without it may still work; a product with it has cleared a specific evidentiary bar that the others have not.

For toothpaste specifically, Petsmile is the only VOHC-accepted product for plaque and tartar. That makes the decision easy if the seal is your priority. If it is not, the enzymatic tubes are a reasonable second lane — Virbac and Petrodex both name their enzymes, and both have a plausible mechanism. What is not reasonable is buying a tube because the package has a dog in a dentist’s chair and the word “dental” in the product name. That is decoration.

The other thing the VOHC seal tells you is what it does not cover. It does not cover “freshens breath” or “whitens teeth” as standalone claims; those are cosmetic, and they are not reviewed. It does not cover “removes tartar” — no toothpaste removes tartar, because tartar is mineralized and needs a scaling. It covers prevention claims, and prevention is the only thing a toothpaste can honestly promise.

DIY Dog Toothpaste: The Recipe, the Risk, and the Honest Math

Homemade dog toothpaste is a real option, and the basic recipe is not complicated: a quarter cup of coconut oil, two tablespoons of baking soda, two tablespoons of yogurt, and a dog-safe flavoring agent, mixed into a paste and stored in a small jar. Coconut oil is the base because its medium-chain fatty acids have antimicrobial properties and it has a soap-like consistency when it meets saliva. Baking soda is the mild abrasive. Yogurt adds texture and a flavor carrier.

The risk is dosage, not toxicity. Baking soda is not poison, but a dog that swallows a large amount can get GI upset. Symptoms of baking soda toxicity tend to appear after roughly 10–20 grams per kilogram of body weight, which is far more than the tiny amount on a toothbrush. The practical risk is low if you use the paste the way you use any toothpaste — a pea-sized amount, on a brush, not a bowl. The bigger risk is spoilage: a homemade paste with yogurt and no preservatives needs refrigeration and a short shelf life.

The honest math is that DIY is cheaper per batch and more expensive per hour. A batch costs a few dollars and makes enough for weeks, but you are trading a $10 tube for a mixing bowl, a fridge shelf, and a texture experiment. For an owner who enjoys the process and has a dog with a straightforward mouth, it is a reasonable hobby. For an owner who is already struggling to brush daily, adding a DIY step is a compliance tax that the routine probably cannot afford.

The one DIY shortcut to avoid is the “just use baking soda and water” version. Baking soda alone is abrasive without the lubricating base, and it tastes bad enough that most dogs refuse it. Coconut oil alone is not abrasive enough to do much. The recipe works because the two are paired. If you are going to DIY, follow the ratio, refrigerate the jar, and do not add xylitol or fluoride “for extra cleaning.” That is how a hobby turns into an emergency.

How to Brush a Dog’s Teeth Without Turning It Into a Wrestling Match

The toothbrush matters less than the routine, but the wrong brush can end the routine before it starts. A human toothbrush is too big for most dogs’ mouths and too stiff for their gums. A finger brush is the right starting point for small dogs and puppies; a long-handled brush with soft bristles is the right tool for medium and large dogs once the dog is comfortable.

The sequence that works is boring and incremental. Start with a finger and a flavored paste, not a brush. Let the dog lick the paste, then rub it on the outer surfaces of the teeth with your finger. Do that for a week. Then introduce the finger brush with paste. Then, if the dog is comfortable, move to the long-handled brush. The goal is not a perfect cleaning in week one; it is a dog that does not hide when the brush comes out.

Technique is simple: small circles on the outer surfaces of the teeth, where the gum meets the tooth, for 30–60 seconds per side. The inner surfaces are less critical because the tongue does some self-cleaning, and the outer surfaces are where plaque accumulates fastest. Do not scrub hard. Do not force the mouth open. A dog that is restrained will remember it, and the next session will be harder. Short, calm, daily sessions beat long, weekly battles.

The 24-hour window is the reason daily matters. Plaque mineralizes into tartar within 24–36 hours; once it hardens, the toothbrush cannot remove it. Brushing every other day is the minimum for a prevention effect, and daily is the gold standard. That is not a marketing line from a toothpaste brand; it is the consensus position in veterinary dentistry, and it is the one piece of advice that survives regardless of which tube you buy.

Where to Buy and What to Watch: Retailers, Returns, and Consumer Protection

The US pet toothpaste market is split between three channels: online pet retailers (Chewy, PetCareRx), mass retail (Walmart, Target), and specialty pet retail (PetSmart, Petco, Tractor Supply). The product is the same; the price and the return policy are not.

Chewy and PetCareRx consistently sit at the low end for Virbac C.E.T., with the 2.5-oz tube at $12.29; PetSmart lands in the middle at $15.29, and Walmart and Tractor Supply run higher for the same flavor. Chewy’s Autoship can knock the price down further for repeat buyers, which is the closest thing this category has to a subscription discount. For Petsmile, Chewy and Amazon are the primary channels, with the 4.2-oz tube around $24.97 and occasional bundles with a toothbrush.

Returns are where the channels diverge. Chewy’s policy is generous to the point of being a competitive advantage: if the dog rejects the flavor, the tube is generally returnable, and the customer-service reputation is part of why the price premium is tolerable. Mass retailers follow their standard return windows, which are usually 30–90 days with a receipt. Specialty pet stores vary; some will accept an opened tube, some will not. The practical advice is to check the return policy before you buy a flavor your dog has never tried, because “the dog hated it” is a return reason that some channels honor and others do not.

Warranty protection for a $10–$25 consumable is mostly theoretical, but the underlying consumer-protection framework is not. The Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act governs written warranties on consumer products, and it requires that warranty terms be disclosed and honored; the FTC’s consumer protection rules apply to deceptive claims about what a product does. For pet toothpaste, the realistic protection is the return window and the retailer’s policy, not a manufacturer’s warranty. Keep the receipt, keep the packaging until the dog has accepted the flavor, and do not assume that “dental” on the label is a regulated claim. It is not.

The one channel to treat with caution is the third-party marketplace listing. A tube sold by an unknown seller at a price far below the Chewy or PetSmart benchmark is not a bargain; it is a question about storage and authenticity. Pet toothpaste does not have a huge counterfeiting problem, but expired or improperly stored stock does happen, and the enzyme systems in these products are not indefinitely stable. Buy from a seller you can return to.

The Stuff Nobody Tells You: Compliance, Cost, and the 24-Hour Window

Fewer than 10% of pet owners brush their pet’s teeth daily. That single statistic explains more about the dog toothpaste market than any ingredient panel. The category’s biggest competitor is not another brand; it is apathy. Every “best toothpaste” list is, in practice, a list of tubes that might survive the compliance filter — the dog’s willingness and the owner’s habit.

The economics follow from that. The US pet toothpaste kit market is growing at a high-single to low-double-digit compound annual rate, driven by pet humanization and veterinary recommendations, but the premium segment — enzymatic, natural, veterinary-endorsed — is only about 35–40% of revenue despite the higher price point. Value and private-label kits dominate unit volume. In other words, most people buy the cheap tube, and the expensive tube is a niche for people who have already decided to brush daily. The market is not stupid; it is reflecting the compliance reality.

The information gain is in the intersection of those two facts. The best toothpaste for a dog that gets brushed daily is different from the best toothpaste for a dog that gets brushed twice a week. For daily brushers, the per-ounce premium of a VOHC-accepted paste or a named-enzyme tube is a rounding error against the cost of a professional cleaning. For sporadic brushers, the expensive tube is a sunk cost that expires before it is used. Buy the tube that matches your actual routine, not the routine you aspire to. That is the least glamorous advice in this guide, and it is the most useful.

FAQ

Can you use human toothpaste on a dog?

No. Human toothpaste can contain xylitol, which is toxic to dogs, and fluoride, which is not meant to be swallowed. Dogs do not rinse and spit, so the paste goes down. Use only toothpaste formulated for pets, and keep human tubes out of reach.

What is the best dog toothpaste for plaque?

Petsmile Professional is the only dog toothpaste with the VOHC seal for plaque and tartar. It uses Calprox to dissolve the protein pellicle plaque clings to. Virbac C.E.T. is the leading enzymatic alternative, though it is not VOHC-accepted.

Do dogs need enzymatic toothpaste?

Not necessarily. Enzymatic paste is a legitimate mechanism, but it is not the only one. Petsmile is non-enzymatic and VOHC-accepted. The bigger variables are whether the dog tolerates the paste and whether you brush daily. A rejected enzyme tube does nothing.

How much does dog toothpaste cost per month?

At a pea-sized daily dose, a 2.5-oz tube lasts roughly six to eight weeks. Depending on the brand, that is about $6–$15 per month for Virbac or Petsmile, and $3–$5 per month for Petrodex or Arm & Hammer. The tube size, not the sticker price, determines the real cost.

Can I make dog toothpaste at home?

Yes, with coconut oil, baking soda, and a dog-safe flavoring. The basic recipe is safe in toothbrush-sized amounts, but it needs refrigeration and has a short shelf life. Do not add xylitol or fluoride, and do not use baking soda alone.

What is the best toothpaste for a puppy?

Any non-toxic, fluoride-free pet toothpaste is fine for a puppy. The flavor matters more than the formula at this stage: poultry or malt is more likely to be accepted than mint. Start with a finger brush and a pea-sized amount, and build the habit before the permanent teeth arrive.