“Hi, there. I’m Doctor Jones,” Harlow said, holding out her hand. “Are you Gillian Robinson?”
Gillian flipped back her auburn hair and said, “Yes, I’m Gillian.”
Harlow put her hand down by her side when the woman didn’t shake it.Okay.Clearly, she wasn’t interested in the pleasantries.
“What’s going on with Elvis?” Harlow asked, quickly referencing the notes in Elvis’s file. “Why don’t you put him down on the exam table,” Harlow said, gesturing toward the table.
“Elvis has been a bit…hyper,” Gillian said, placing the pup down. “He’s also panting quite a bit.”
“You told the receptionist that he’s had some diarrhea and vomiting. When did that start?”
“Yesterday.” Gillian shrugged. “He may or may not have eaten chocolate.” Something in Gillian’s tone came across as cavalier.
“May have? You’re not sure?” Harlow asked. She was trying not to sound too shocked, but it was always surprising when owners didn’t seem to realize the dangers of toxic substances.
“I’m ninety-nine percent certain he got into my stash of Godiva chocolates,” Gillian said.
Godiva chocolates?It was a miracle Elvis was still breathing.
“And when do you think he consumed the chocolates?” Harlow asked. Most likely it hadn’t been today, since Elvis’s symptoms had started yesterday. But she still needed to ask.
“Yesterday, I think. I’m not too sure. The chocolates were on my bedside table.” Gillian shook her hand at Elvis. “Naughty boy, getting onto Mommy’s bed.”
Yesterday!Gillian really should have called the office much earlier. Chocolate is toxic for dogs, and Harlow had seen dogs who passed away after consuming it. Gillian didn’t realize how fortunate she’d been. Harlow examined the dog, palpating his stomach to check for any signs of pain in Elvis’s abdomen. She also checked his heart rate, which appeared normal.
“He’s not exhibiting any troubling signs at the moment. I think he’s going to be all right, since it’s been twenty-four hours since he consumed the chocolates. Chocolate has theobromine as an ingredient, which dogs can’t metabolize,” Harlow explained. “There’s no point in giving him medicine now, since the time for that remedy has pretty much passed.”
“Oh no. That’s a bummer,” Gillian said, looking away to scroll on her phone.
Stifling a sigh, Harlow reached into the drawer and pulled out a pamphlet for her.
“Here’s a list of substances that are toxic to dogs. Chocolate. Grapes. Many others. You really should keep these items away from Elvis. It could be fatal for him.” Harlow held out the information to Gillian, who gingerly took it. “You really were very fortunate. You might not be so lucky next time.”
“Thanks,” the woman said curtly. “As you said, he’ll be fine.”
Harlow hated Gillian’s indifferent tone. As an advocate for dogs, she could accept an owner making a mistake, but Gillian didn’t seem as if she’d learned anything from the incident. Harlow had to wonder if her client even understood the gravity of the situation. Obviously, she loved Elvis, otherwise why would she have rushed over to Paws to have him checked out? As the appointment ended, Harlow sent Gillian to the waiting room so she could check out with Jon.
Moments later, Harlow was in the break room doing battle with a difficult Keurig machine. She began muttering to herself. Harlow banged her coffee cup down on the counter with more force than necessary. The noise echoed in the stillness of the small room. She was still feeling annoyed, thinking about poor Elvis and his owner.
“Are you all right? What happened? Tell me quickly while I get some coffee in these veins. I skipped lunch today, and I’m in need of a pick-me-up.” Whitney Carr, the owner of Paws, had entered the room without Harlow’s being aware of it. Whitney was down-to-earth and personable. Tall and statuesque, Whitney was a former beauty queen turned veterinarian. Harlow quickly got her up to speed on Gillian and Elvis.
“I know owners make mistakes. Who doesn’t? We’re all human.” Harlow ran a hand through her curls. “But something about her attitude rubbed me the wrong way.”
Whitney nodded as she fiddled with the Keurig machine. “She’s been a dog owner long enough to be aware of those risks.” Whitney frowned. “I seem to remember Elvis eating a toxic plant a few years ago. He was super lucky to make it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Harlow slapped her palm to her forehead. “Unbelievable. Well, I did give her some literature about toxic items for dogs, so hopefully she’ll read up on it and be more careful.”
“Let’s hope so,” Whitney said, pressing the coffee machine’s go button and filling Harlow’s mug to the brim. She handed it over to Harlow with a grin.
“Oh, thank you,” Harlow said. “I’ve been dying for some java, and I couldn’t get the machine to work. You’re a lifesaver.” Harlow took a sip and let out a sigh of contentment.
“My pleasure,” Whitney replied as she prepared her own cup of coffee. “So, Harlow, how are you acclimating to life in Mistletoe?”
“I’m doing well. Having Stella as a friend helps a lot. She’s been showing me around and introducing me to folks.” Harlow softly chuckled. “Lucy even roped me into helping out with the fall festival. It sounds like I’ll be selling raffle tickets.”
“That’s awfully nice of you to pitch in,” Whitney said. “Paws is closing at noon that day, so I volunteered with my son, Jamie, at the pumpkin-carving booth.”
“Sounds messy.” All Harlow could imagine was the gooey insides of a pumpkin, seeds and all. Baked pumpkin seeds were yummy, but she could do without the rest.
