There was a lot going on. The day was crisp with excitement as preparations were made for a wedding at “Musical Veggie” a nearby camp of amicable and peaceful hippies (rumored to have the best food in all the camps.) The couple was beautiful, she an actress and the grown daughter of a fellow camped on the “Ridge” the groom a budding screen writer. I spent the morning helping to decorate and fill the marriage blessing box prior to the wedding (one of the most beautiful I’ve ever attended) and then returned to the kitchen to help and then later serve. Perhaps it was accidental, it could have been. She is a dog in search of edibles. Someone may have dropped a chunk of a loaded “treat.” Or someone may have thought it would be fun to get her stoned (the rumor of great food attracted many young revelers to the kitchen.) In any event, before I had time to eat my dinner my camp mate, Sylvia, said HB was acting “funny.” Sure enough, she was sitting like a baby giraffe, legs wobbly, staring around, looking decidedly altered. If I wasn’t so scared it might have been funny. Worried, not sure what to do, and miles from a vet, we got a charcoal capsule in her (great for poison) and sat at a fireside A.A. meeting. HB vacillated between acute awareness and stupefication, peed on both Sylvia and I but came through, unscathed by the experience, to celebrate the July4th the next day.