I know a little dog that found some rat poison in a back yard of an old house in New Orleans Saturday night. The poison was green and looked like hard candy. She only got to nibble on a tiny bit before I pulled her away. Still, everyone in our group was worried. I decided not to attempt to find a doggy emergency room in a city I didn’t know and not to entrust my dog to a doctor I didn’t know. My instinct told me that pumping her stomach would be unnecessary and painful but it also told me that doing nothing would be dangerous, and my research confirmed it. So puppy had blueberries and yogurt on Saturday night to detox, activated charcoal at home in Houston on Sunday, and got to see her doctor and have bloodwork done today. Her doctor is in Galveston, and it was a cold day to go to the Island, but I did go and Ronnie made me hot chocolate and a fire. My friend and I ate muffulettas and red beans and rice, drove around a bit with our masks on, and even managed to go to one of my favorite places: the tiny very beautiful cottage where my friend Catherine lives and paints.
The dog turns out to have only mild toxicity in her blood, and has been prescribed Vitamin K, which I will administer rigorously for 21 days. We’re back in Houston now and it’s cold and miserable out. But the dog is pointy-eared and perky and so I’ll put my fur coat on and go walk her.
