Page 44 of Let It Breathe
Clay shrugged. “I’ve been around a lot of stoned people.”
Another tear slipped down Reese’s cheek as she stroked Leon’s neck. The alpaca made a purring sound and looked at Clay. Clay reached out and scratched behind its ear.
“I don’t know what alpacas usually act like,” Clay said. “Is he behaving oddly?”
Reese nodded. “He isn’t head-butting you in the crotch. That’s odd.”
“Thank you, Leon,” Clay said. “Look, I just hooked up with the local AA group. It’s a long shot, but you want me to see if there are any members who might be veterinarians? AA is always a supportive group when it comes to—well, delicate situations. It might be worth a try.”
“Shit, yeah,” Axl said as he switched off the cordless phone. “Your drunk-ass friends will know all about camels eating pot.”
“He’s an alpaca!” Reese shouted before looking back at Clay. “If you wouldn’t mind?—”
“No problem. Just let me make a call.”
Clay grabbed his cell from his belt and hit the speed-dial number for Patrick, his new sponsor. He’d programmed the guy’s number into the phone the other day, knowing it might be handy at some point.
He hadn’t envisioned using it to summon help for a stoned alpaca.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Patrick picked up, his voice fretful.
“Clay? Is that you? Is everything okay?”
“Hey, Patrick—yeah, it’s me. Look, there’s been a drug-related incident here, and I was just wondering?—”
“Oh, God. Clay, where are you? I can get there in a few minutes, wherever you are. Just hold tight and?—”
“No, dude—it’s not me. Really, I have this friend?—”
“Sure, sure, a friend—whatever you say. The important thing is that your friend deals with this head-on, right now, before things spiral and?—”
“Patrick, stop. It’s an alpaca.”
Patrick was quiet a moment. “That’s that new street drug, right? The one that gives you an erection for four days?”
“What? No. It’s kind of like a camel. A really small, shaggy camel with no hump.”
There was more silence on Patrick’s end. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, I just need to know if there’s a vet in the local AA group—a veterinarian, not a military vet. We want to find out if there’s anything we should do for my friend’s alpaca.”
Patrick didn’t respond right away, so Clay pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at Reese. “Any idea how much he ate?”
“Just one small plant, I think. Maybe two. I can’t be sure,” she said. “I didn’t see it before he ate it, but all the plants were really little.”
“Okay, Patrick?” Clay said, speaking into the phone again. “It sounds like he ingested a fairly small amount of marijuana. Is there anyone you can think of who I could talk to?”
“Um, well, there’s Wally. He owns a vet clinic in Newberg. He’s just a friend of mine, not an AA guy, but I trust him. You want me to give him a call?”
“That’d be great. You can have him call me on this number, or if it’s not too much trouble, maybe he could come out here to the winery?”
“You’re at a winery with a stoned camel?”
Clay watched as Reese scratched Leon behind the ears. “He’s not a camel. Just let me know what Wally says, okay? Thanks, man.”
He clicked off the phone and looked at Reese, who was still stroking Leon’s neck with a shaky hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “I just didn’t want to call Leon’s regular vet to explain this. He got mad last Halloween when Axl tried to dye the sheep orange. I don’t want him to think we’re completely irresponsible alpaca owners.”
