My moral dog dilemma

I haven't yet made up my mind yet whether the following incident constitutes animal abuse. I'll let you be the judge. My host family has a dog. The world's most annoying dog. In fact, I often have strong urges to boot it through the window. (Don't worry- that's not the direction this story is headed.) The Devil Dog, as I like to call it, goes by "Flor" ("Flower" in English), which I find incredibly ironic as it posses utterly no floral qualities. Flor is loud, terrorizes the neighborhood children, and smells like "caca" (I'll let you do the math on that translation). Flor is a Jack Russell Terrier just like Wishbone (a staple childhood television program of my generation)...sans the cute costumes and knack for story-telling.

 Anyhow, Flor barks at everything. The mailman (how cliché), trucks, camera flashes, loud noises, silence, a breeze...you name it. More than anything though, he barks at cats on the roof. We have a tin roof and my madre tells me that the local street cats run back and forth across the roof to torment the dog (and subsequently me). The other night, I was awake for approximately 4 hours because the pooch wouldn't give it a rest. In my sleep-deprived state, I lost my cool and shouted from my room, "FLOR SHUT UP!" Obviously, this was completely ineffective because Flor does not speak English.  The next morning, my madre timidly asked me if Florcito woke me up. 

 Pause for quick Spanish language lesson. The suffix -ito/-cito can be affectionately tacked onto any noun to transform it into something tiny and cute. Example: abuelo = grandfather; abuelito = cute, little, old grandpa. Resume.

Flor should be the one exception to this rule because under no fathomable circumstance are these adjectives ever applicable.  Madre, I am truly sorry, but the answer is SÍ. YES, YOUR DEMONIC DOG WOKE ME UP. Ok...so I was a little more tactful than that...but I definitely gave it to her straight. She bit her lower lip and muttered something about a sleeping pill. I didn't think much of it at the time.

The next night, not so much as a peep came from Flor. I got to sleep in, too because I had a planning period in the morning. I was eating breakfast around 9:30 when I realized that it was eerily quiet. Sure enough, Flor was not at his usual perch by the front window. I peered over the table and saw a curled mass under a mangled blanket by the wood stove. I called out his name. No response. I walked over and nudged the mass with my foot. No movement. I lifted the blanket and he still didn't rouse. I knew he wasn't dead because he was heaving long deep breaths. I played with his feet, jiggled his collar, splashed him with some water. Nothing.

The mass under the blanket:

Flor in drug-induced coma:

Did she ACTUALLY slip Flor a sleeping pill??  My answer came the following night. I saw her crushing up a tablet in the kitchen and punching the powder into a doggy-sized morsel of leftover bread. She bent over, shoved it into a still-groggy-Flor's mouth and flashed me a smile and a thumbs up. Last time I checked, canine sleeping pills were not flying off Petsmart shelves. Does this mean that poor Flor is being force fed human doses?

 My internal struggle is as follows. On one hand, I do enjoy sleeping soundly through the night. On the other hand, I am indirectly responsible for drugging the (not quite unanimously) beloved family pet. My conscience is burning but I'm not exactly sure how to reverse the situation. Plus, do you think that Flor could be all that opposed to some deep slumber? Even if it is 16 hours a day...