My Dog Ate My Weed

Wookie dog laid under the coffee table and stared blankly at the ceiling. It was most confusing as this is a dog who religiously met me at the door and sniffed me about my day. His playmate and partner in crime Mary Jane, a beagle mix visiting from next door, frolicked around him, occasionally sniffing his rear. Wookie dog didn’t move.

I rushed to him convinced something awful had happened. When I lifted his head he just gave me a giddy doggie smile and licked my nose. I sat back perplexed.

That’s when I saw it. The Box…a brown leather old fashioned make up case I had once used to travel in Europe…was open, dumped over and empty. Rolling papers and Bubbles the bowl lay around The Box like wreckage from a plane crash.

“Luke…” I yelled to my boyfriend, who had just walked in carrying groceries. .. “where’d you put the weed?…”

What Weed?“In the box babe…where else…? I put it right here and…OH MY GOD THEY ATE THE POT!” I looked at the scene not really comprehending the situation. Why would a dog want to eat weed? This is a dog who wouldn’t touch many foods… certain veggies, doughnuts, most packaged foods…although he had been known to sneak sips of Luke’s Guinness on occasion, he was overwhelmingly a picky eater…especially for a dog.

I stared at the pair…the Canine equivalent of Bonnie and Clyde…they had eaten my fucking weed. I watched as Mary Jane, clearly the seasoned smoker compared to my precious Wookie, twirled and happily pounced on the completely mellowed out Chow. She’d lick his face, run away and happy dance. Wookie just lazily stared at her, a kind of peaceful tranquility and doggie meditation if you will. He had eaten a good ounce…good shit too, no stems or seeds, no shake, just premium dank buds…gone…all gone…and steadily pumping Thc into my baby’s body.

Then the fears started. What if it’s toxic for dogs? What if he could die? What if his pot induced daze was the beginning of his vital organs shutting down or some kind of brain damage? Or worse?

I panicked and started to try to get him to move…which he did…much like a drunken sailor. He walked away from me and leaned against a wall with a happy look on his face. Whatta stoner I thought.

Luke and I sat down to smoke a joint…Luke is a pro, having hidden an emergency jar in our room…as I continued to panic. “Baby…” he started, trying to hide his amusement at the situation “He’s a DOG…And weed isn’t bad for you…if it were he would have thrown up or something, right? So calm down…he’ll be fine…”

“This is all your fault…” I said in a low ominous tone…Lukes eyes flew open as he looked at me hurt and confused.

“Me? How is this…”

“No dude! Her!…” I pointed at that Jeezebelle Mary Jane. The troublemaker who had gotten my dog high. I chastised her like a mother whose son had been brought home drunkin to all hell, facilitated by a bad influence. I sat in a huff, still worried my dog was going to die or hallucinate himself into crazyville.

But much to my surprise, nothing happened.

Well, I mean, lots happened. Mary Jane and Wookie proceeded to walk into each other, eat an obnoxious amount of dog food and lay staring at the sky without a care in the world. Mary Jane humped Wookies head for what seemed like a pornographic amount of time. Weeds has never had that affect on me, but more powerful to her. While Wookie would have normally never tolerated such doggie shenanigans, he happily allowed the little bitch to hump away. When the act of love had finished Wookie got up and laid down at my feet for a belly rub…normal for most dogs but not my regal pooch who took his duties seriously and would rarely lower himself to beg for affection.

It was then I realized, he was gonna be fine. More than fine maybe, for the first time he was a mellow dog, not my high strung uber protector. And if this dog and with his finicky tastes ate pot, it must be okayish. This dog wouldn’t eat a Twinkie, he had a good enough idea of what is healthy and what is not, but marijuana was cool apparently.   He wouldn’t put chemicals into his body, but he was down with weed.

This was the moment I started to see grass as something other than a drug. Maybe he knew something I didn’t then…marijuana isn’t a toxic drug like ecstasy or acid…it’s a plant. It’s a kick ass plant, but a plant nonetheless.

So take a lesson from Good Ole Wookie dog…marijuana isn’t a crazy chemical that will rot your brain, it’s an herb…best done with your number one bitch on a lazy summer afternoon. Don’t feed your dogs pot…but if they get it by accident, record it. Precious memories and all.

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About Emmy Lou Warren

I am a strong supporter of the legalization and regulation of marijuana. I live in a small quiet Midwestern town... I have kids, dogs and a mortgage...honestly, I'm kinda boring. I am the face of the unlikely supporter. White, preppy and privileged. I believe the hand I was dealt requires I fight for those less lucky.
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