A Four-Legged Narc

Back in the day, before marijuana was legalized most everywhere, Layla, an effervescent, adorable, five-year-old French bulldog and her 45’ish-year-old humans came to see me.

Layla had experienced two lengthy neurological episodes (several hours long) during which she was unresponsive and unable to walk. The family veterinarian referred Layla to me for an MRI scan of her brain.

On physical examination, Layla was 100 percent normal, as were her blood test results. While epilepsy is quite common in her age range, it would be unusual for seizures to last for hours. Other possibilities, such as infectious or inflammatory disease, seemed unlikely because Layla was perfectly normal in between episodes.

“By chance, does she have exposure to anything toxic outside or in the house?” I asked her owners.

“No, nothing we can think of.”

“Did you notice her leaking urine during these episodes?”

“Yes! As a matter of fact, she did.”

This was an “aha” moment, and I fought hard to keep a straight face.

“I have something kind of sensitive to ask you,” I said.

Layla’s owners look puzzled. “Okay.”

“Leaking urine is a common symptom of marijuana toxicity. By chance, has she had access to marijuana?”

Her owners looked dumbfounded and even a little offended. “No. Impossible.”

“Does anyone else live with you?”

They looked at each other. “Well, uh… we have a 15-year-old son, but he would never…”

In an attempt to make them feel better, I said, “When my son was about that age, I discovered he’d set up a brewery in my basement. Heck, if marijuana is the worst thing our kids do, we’re doing pretty good!”

This left the couple speechless, and the expressions on their faces suggested that their minds were churning.

I asked them how they wanted to proceed. We could do the MRI, but it would require general anesthesia for Layla and a $3,000 expenditure. Or… they could have a candid conversation on the home front. They opted for the latter.

I called them a week later to ask how Layla was doing. She was doing fine, and they told me, “That MRI scan we talked about. It won’t be necessary.”

I was glad they couldn’t see the big grin on my face.