THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG AND THE MAGIC MUSHROOMS

A hospital blog

I’m skidding down the ward in my electric wheelchair and am in a slightly more buoyant mood than usual since I am supposedly leaving here in a couple of days. I run into my semi-paralysed pal from the next bay, who, like me, read philosophy at university, and I ask him if he has a moment to discuss a pressing moral issue. One of my sons attended a small party recently, and as a generous gift took two chocolate bars containing magic mushrooms, leaving them in a bag at the entrance. It should go without saying that within a short space of time, the family dog had penetrated the bag, and had its way with the magic mushrooms, consuming most of them.  Very soon, the beast – which was a small Chihuahua – was tripping off its head, eyes like saucers, whimpering hysterically. The dog had to be rushed to the vet to have its stomach pumped, which not only added to the ruin of the evening but cost the host five-hundred quid. The dog, eventually, was fine. The next morning, the host asked my son to pay the vet’s bill. But whose responsibility was it? This was the subject that the philosopher and I discussed. We both concluded, of course, that it was the host’s duty to control their excitable Chihuahua, particularly as the chocolate was well wrapped up.