In
the past six weeks I have flown to Halifax and back,
flown to Austria and back, and driven to the BC interior
and back. But none of the trips felt as long or as
eventful as the 32 mile drive from Saints in Mission
to Markeyda's Pet Grooming in Langley.
I pick up Daisy, Moses and Lexi just
before 9:00, allowing plenty of time for the trip
to Samantha's. All three dogs are pretty mellow, so
I anticipated no problems. Moses, especially, is just
a gentle old soul who never seems to get too excited
about anything. Moses and Lexi go in the back of my
Pathfinder, behind the dog barrier, and Daisy sits
on the floor behind the front passenger seat, which
I have moved forward to give her maximum room.
Within a few blocks, I'm having deja
vu of the days I transported preschoolers to daycare.
Lexi and Moses are squabbling over who gets which
window, who is hogging more of the space, and who
DARED to touch whom. I stop the car, go to the back,
place Lexi on one side and Moses on the other, and
tell them to behave. Three more blocks and Moses has
ventured over to Lexi's side and the squabbling starts
again.
After a bit, Lexi moves to the other
window, Moses plonks himself smack in the middle,
and they both stare sulkily through the barrier at
me. Lexi at least has the sense to sit; wobbly, unsteady
Moses stands on all fours and staggers back and forth
with each bump in the road - which, of course, causes
Lexi to utter a few disgruntled mutterings which sound
suspiciously like "Jean, Moses is BUGGING me!!!"
I, of course, am patiently saying "Moses, sit!"...
"Moses, down!" ... "Moses, PLEASE SIT
DOWN!" None of this has the least effect on Moses,
since the sweet boy is deaf as a doorknob.
Then I glance in the rear view mirror.
Moses is stressed - panting heavily, obviously tense.
He's also standing strangely, head down, bum rounded,
shoulders hunched. Has he managed to get his feet
tangled in the leash and hog-tie himself? I stop the
car again. Get out, go round to the back, open the
door.....nope, he's just fine. Get back in the car,
continue the journey.
Daisy, meanwhile, has discovered heaven-knows-what
between the back door and the back seat. She has her
nose wedged in there firmly, snuffling away. Then
the nose comes out and the paw goes in. Scritch, scritch,
scritch. I figure my own dogs must have lost a liver
treat down there one day and Daisy is determined to
get it. Soon she is scratching frantically at the
bottom of the door. I choose to ignore it, since I'm
not going on a liver-treat-expedition in the middle
of the Mission-Abbotsford highway.
I glance back at Moses, who is still
posturing...and...uh oh.....assuming the position.
A gut-wrenching, stomach-turning, eye-watering smell
fills the car....... and it isn't coming from the
liquid manure routinely sprayed on the fields in the
Fraser Valley. Okay, I can handle this.... I say a
few choice words to the deaf Moses, open the windows
enough to let some fresh air in without letting dogs
escape, turn up the air conditioner full blast, and
plan my next move. I'm only a few minutes from my
own home, so I figure I'll swing by there and dispose
of the cause of the odor and at the same time grab
my camera to get before and after pictures of the
dogs' day at the spa. Stop the car, go round to the
back, open the door (plastic baggy and paper towels
in hand)......no poop. Could one dog REALLY have gas
that smells that bad???
Back in the car, I'm grateful that I
allowed lots of time. Daisy has now given up scratching
my car's leather interior and is dozing on the back
seat. Lexi has resigned herself to sharing space with
Moses, and Moses is still standing on all fours wobbling
around like a kid standing on the centre of a teeter-totter.
The car still reeks of Moses' gaseous contributions.
We toodle along Fraser Highway....and
come to a dead standstill where we sit in our stinking
car in the blazing heat to watch four police cars,
an ambulance, two fire engines and two tow trucks
completely block traffic to deal with a two-car collision
in the median. All three dogs pop up to rubberneck
the scene and complain about the holdup. I don't know
who whined more - me or Lexi.
I realize I will now be late for the
appointment, and reach for my seldom-used cell phone
before realizing I have neither Samantha's number
nor Saints' number with me. Oh well, shouldn't be
more than a few minutes late.
We move on again, and finally all three
dogs settle down.....until we hit the road construction.
We dutifully stop, and the flagger walks right up
to the car, which makes all three dogs jump up once
again eager to supervise. Talk about back seat drivers!!!
We finally arrive at Samantha's - only
about five or ten minutes late. I take Moses and Lexi
for a pee while Samantha offers to get Daisy from
the back seat. She carries her up the stairs, a slight
grin on her face, and tells me that Daisy has left
me a present on the floor. Daisy! I had never even
considered that the odious smell was hers! Sweet noble
Moses just gives me a sideways glance that said "How
could you even THINK it was me?" Oh Moses, I'm
sorry. I go out to the car, plastic bag in hand, and
take care of Daisy's present.
The rest of the morning was relatively
uneventful. Samantha and I were as coordinated as
a three-ring circus - I washed Moses while she shaved
Daisy; she washed Daisy while I blew Moses dry, I
washed Daisy while she shaved Lexi, and so on until
all three critters were bathed, dried, clipped, brushed,
nails trimmed, and colourful bandanas in place.
The ride home was a breeze.....all three
fell asleep before I hit the highway, and stayed that
way until I pulled into Saints.
But don't ever try to tell me that transport
is an easy task! |
