Johnny Cash, Blue and Rehab
Sunny Portland days are wonderful for gardening. They are also, as it happens, good days for calamity. This is a story of doggie drug use and parental panic.
I am a veterinary technician. My boyfriend Baker and I have two dogs, Johnny Cash and Blue. Johnny is a blind Pit Bull. I rescued him from euthanasia 8 years ago. Blue is a Blue Heeler. Baker adopted him from the humane society 3 years ago. We were a mixed family and they were not what you would call friends. Johnny was lonely after the loss of his longtime companion and “seeing eye dog”, Zed, who had died a year earlier and Blue wanted nothing to do with him. He was used to being singular. He loved playing with dogs at the park but had no affection for the dog in “his” house with “his” people. They shared a roof, but not a home. We worked diligently for two years on having both pups in the same place at the same time without supervision. When, in what seemed like an instant, their relationship changed.
It was a beautiful spring weekday. I was building an herb garden for my patio. The sun was shining in a clear, pale blue sky. The air was just warm enough, caressing the flowers and leaves with a tentative, gentle breeze. I was still smiling in disbelief at the dogs’ newly forged friendship. Wonder struck at the site of them running and jumping on each other and rolling around. Our pups were playing! They were sharing toys, licking faces, and Blue was actually looking out for Johnny Cash, the way Zed used to. It was as though the last two weeks had all but erased the previous two years. So as my pleasant day of gardening was winding down, and I was persuaded to skip off to the pub, I thought nothing of leaving the dogs together at home.
Baker met me at the pub after work and, after a good evening with friends, he went home just ahead of me. I was not expecting the phone call that came only moments later. “What was in those boxes?” Baker asked in a bit of a panic. I...