Page 7 of Clearly Charmed

‘Has he had these symptoms before?’ I said.

‘Never. Besides being neutered, he’s only had to go to the vet for his shots.’

Indy stayed still on the table, drool pooling around his mouth.

‘Did you feed him anything out of the ordinary today?’

‘No, but I was searching those woods for him for over thirty minutes until I found you. He could have eaten anything.’

I bit back another lecture about Indy being in the woods without a leash because the terror in Bryce’s eyes was too much.

‘We need to start with fluids. Can you hold him?’

He replied with a weak ‘Yes.’

I moved around the room, pulling out a syringe, electric clippers and an IV bag.

‘Keep your arms around him. I’m going to shave down the hair on his left paw and insert a line for fluids. In his state I don’t think he’ll move, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

Bryce circled Indy in his arms while I went to work. Once the fluids were on board, I said, ‘My instincts say this is a reaction to something he’s ingested, but let’s rule out that he does not have any kind of obstruction.’

‘What does that mean?’ he blurted out.

‘I need to do X-rays on his abdomen.’

What little color he had in his cheeks faded.

‘It’s only to be on the safe side.’

He carried Indy into a room farther down the hall while I held on to the IV bag. After shooing him and Flora out the door, I slid on my lead apron and positioned Indy on the table to get a good view of his stomach. I took a couple of pictures, finding no problems in his stomach, bladder or intestines.

What the hell was wrong with this dog, and why did I feel consumed with figuring it out for this poor animal and a man I’d only known for a few hours?

Bryce carried Indy back toward the exam room. We weren’t ten feet from the door when the poor dog vomited. Panic creased every line in Bryce’s face.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, trying to reassure him. ‘Set him back on the table inside.’

As I passed Indy’s mess, the pungent scent filled the air and it quickly solved our mystery.

Bryce’s pacing grew more frantic in the exam room. ‘On the trail earlier, you knew Indy was sick. You told me to get him checked out. And Mo at the tavern said you had some kind of magic, but I didn’t listen, and now my dog can’t even move.’

I hated the way he stared at me – an odd combination of wonder mixed with uneasy trepidation. Like he was grateful for my help, but all the rational parts of his brain were telling him none of this should be possible.

‘That’s not what we need to discuss right now.’

‘What’s next? How do we help him? I’ll do anything to make sure he’s all right.’

‘Your dog is going to be fine. I know exactly what’s wrong with him.’

His reddish brows jumped to his hairline. ‘You do?’

‘It’s marijuana poisoning.’

‘Marijuana?’ he yelped.

‘Yes. When dogs ingest it, they can become very sick. Could Indy have gotten into something at your cabin?’

‘No, I don’t do that,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Are you sure that’s what this is? It doesn’t make any sense.’