It’s okay if you laugh. Sorry to dull the suspense factor, but the dog lived, and is doing fine as far as I know. With that said, here’s the one about that time the standard poodle I was taking care of for a friend accidentally ate two of my pot cookies.

I’ve been watching this dog for years. Without getting into details that could possibly incriminate an innocent canine, let’s just call him Snoop, and say that he belongs to a family friend. Snoop is a floppy and playful creature, one of those completely care-free souls who asks for nothing more than the occasional belly rub. Standards aren’t the smartest, but they’re cool for any number of reasons. I personally like how well they clean up; watching a poodle morph from sloppy hairball to manicured pillow is second only to the epic scrub-down of Nick Nolte in Down and Out in Beverly Hills.

While he was difficult and rowdy in his early years, Snoop has mellowed out in middle age. So it was out of the ordinary for him to be parked in the far corner of the backyard, staring at me like a predator eying fresh meat. When I tried to get close, he barked. Snoop’s not the best eater, but after three or so hours in the yard without so much as approaching his water, I started to bug out. To make matters worse, Snoop has a medical condition, and I had been relying on him eating to slip pills in his chow.

On the walk to the vet, Snoop actually impressed me. Though he had been acting strangely, he also had a super chill vibe going. Snoop is generally goofy, and though his coordination was definitely off, he managed to cartoonishly sway his hips more than a foot in each direction as we marched along.

That coolness ended at the vet’s office. Snoop wouldn’t eat. He was limp. Exhausted. His eyes drooped. Problem was, they had no clue what was wrong. His tests came back A-OK. A true stumper. Until I got back to the house.

“Why is there an empty plastic bag in the living room?” I still remember the tone in her voice. I realized right away – my girlfriend cracked the case. Those two hash cookies that I wrongly thought I left at work? Snoop had broken into my bag overnight and eaten both of them. He’d been flying for anywhere between five and twelve hours.

I called the vet. Honesty is the best policy. He wanted to laugh, I think, but was kind enough to assure me things would be okay. Nevertheless, we agreed that it was best for me to bring Snoop to the animal hospital. Just to make sure he was okay. They shot some water up his back, cleaned his system, fed him, and the poodle eventually bounced back to normal. Goofiness and all. Cost me about $400 total.

At the end of the day, I still feel like an asshole. But while Snoop may have been scared, everyone around did everything we could to make him comfortable; at one point, I put him in a room with the lights off and Peter Tosh on low. The moral of the story? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with the increasing availability of edibles and tinctures in the Bay State, and people needing to make sure their animals and children don’t sneak into their stash while they’re sleeping.