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The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/POTUSKNOPE on 2025-11-21 22:30:42+00:00.
Obligatory “not actually today,” but this happened like 6 years ago and I still think about it regularly.
I have a big extended family, many of which are conservative and not very chill with weed use. Now, I’m not a huge weed user, I don’t like to use it during the day and mainly just use it to help me sleep and sometimes to help give me an appetite. Additionally, my extended family is borderline intrusive and because I wasn’t raised around them, sometimes it’s overwhelming to be around them and it helps to take the edge off.
Well, my immediate family (mom, dad, brother, and I) all travelled to visit them for Christmas. I knew I would be staying with my Grandma for the week, so I planned ahead and made brownies. Don’t worry, both my state and the state we were traveling to are legal, so I wasn’t breaking any laws. We drove there because my mom is super attached to her highly neurotic dog and she didn’t want to take her on the plane.
A little background on this dog, Xena. Now Xena didn’t come with this name, she came with the name Lisa, but given her timidness (she is a rescue that was likely abused) we thought maybe naming her something powerful like Xena would help give her some more confidence – boy did it. She’s a scrawny little mix (we think red heeler/Italian greyhound/chihuahua) with no patience, listens like your grandpa that only perks up when you mention dinner, and snaps at you for disturbing her naps – and girl I get it, naps are a fucking sacred territory, but you’re a dog and we got places to go.
Anyway, whole trip is going okay. I ended up driving out of the dry territory of the state to get myself a weed pen because why the fuck did I think edibles were a good idea when I never eat edibles? No one knows or likely cares. I had been keeping the brownies in my backpack zipped up – well away from kids and such…but fucking Xena. I had opened that pocket to grab my toothbrush, left the room for 2 goddamn minutes, and that little sniffy weasel found them and had scarfed the last remaining brownie down leaving behind chewed up foil and zero remorse. She literally raised her lips at me as I frantically grabbed the foil from under her.
I obviously panic. Not only did this 10lb demon inhale a brownie filled with dark chocolate that a famished me would likely take two sittings to consume, but she also ingested at least three nights of weed – in other words – she done ate dog poison.
I quickly decide my shame in bringing weed to a family gathering is nothing compared to the critical nature of what has occurred and I slide my mom away from the family gathering that seems to constantly be taking place and tell her what happened. She’s obviously disappointed and scared, but also trying to deal with the multitudes of family members that seemingly can only resolve their issues by talking directly to her. I tell her I’m on hold with the vet and she nods and then is swiftly whisked away by my aunt to help like whip some buttermilk or something.
At this point I’m nearly in tears, I’m trying to corner the mini-monster into her carrier so I can begin driving to the nearest (over an hour away – it’s a holiday weekend) emergency vet. Eventually Xena succumbs to my herding attempts and burrows herself in the blankets of my bed so I can wrap her up and shove her in the carrier. Right then I finally get connected to a person.
I explain the situation with the anguish of someone admitting they only just realized they are actually patient zero of a worldwide plague. The very sweet vet tech listens to me and then pauses. I wait, closing my eyes, expecting him to tell me I’ve killed my mom’s best friend.
“Well,” he says, “the reason dogs die from chocolate is because it speeds up their heart so much they have a heart attack, and the reason THC kills dogs is because it slows their heart so much it stops, so honestly, it’ll might even out. I think she should be okay. Just keep an eye on her.”
Obviously, this wasn’t enough for me and I had a thousand more questions, but eventually he assuages me into believing his science-based training, and I accept it.
Let me goddamn tell you, never has this dog been a better dog. She sat on my lap the whole day, she was snuggly and friendly, she never once nipped at a kid or another dog, she got so many snacks and pets. Genuinely, she seemed like the chemical brain shit she was experiencing was making her a much happier dog.
So, I fucked up, but it turned out okay. BUT DON’T GIVE YOUR DOGS CHOCOLATE AND WEED. I AM LUCKY I DIDN’T KILL MY MOM’S BEST FRIEND.
TLDR: My mom’s dog ate my weed brownie and I thought she was going to die, but she didn’t.