Delivering a Puppy

Every so often, you find a family that is super-wonderful, that you just have to have for one of your puppies. They are pleasant on the email inquiry, hit all the sweet spots on the questionnaire, and don't bat an eye about your contract. Then, out of the blue, they mention that they live 550 miles and two states away from you.

Ouch.

You don't ship puppies, not without at face-to-face meeting between self/representative and buyer. USDA rules say that you'd be a commercial kennel then and nope. Not willing to let them get away, you run through the list of pickup options: Kathleen can deliver the puppy by air as a pet nanny (if God had intended Kim to fly, she'd have wings--or a jet pack), pet taxi service, buyer can fly to New Orleans and Kim can drive to meet them. Then, the least favorable option is always left until last. Kim can hop in her Homesteadmobile and schlep halfway to the puppy's new home.

Guess which one the family picked? LOL

Thus ensued four hilarious days of preparation to make the trip. The puppy needed to get a health certificate. I had to go to the library to get paperwork printed. Get everything squared away with my goat and dog sitters. I hit the insurance company to add towing to my auto policy, prepared the puppy gift pack, bought a new pair of jeans to be presentable. I packed food that I could prepare in the hotel room for supper and for breakfast, packed the coffee maker and those little creamers that are room temperature stable. Those are the highlights--I know that there was a lot more tossed in there, as well as my usual chores and reassurances to Yaddle that she was not being left behind. The idea was that I would drive down on Tuesday, then deliver the puppy Wednesday morning, after which I would drive home. It would mean being on the road for 14 hours between the two days, but the family was willing to pay for everything, including the overnight stay in the hotel. It wasn't a vacation, per se, but it was a way to do a trial run to see if I wanted to drive to the next Pensacola shows (spoiler alert: Yes, probably!)

That Tuesday morning, I bundled Yaddle and Buttercup into the Homesteadmobile--now with a new and improved passenger side rear window, not covered with tape!--and jumped onto the rural two-lane highway to parts unknown. Buttercup serenaded me with the song of her people for about the first thirty miles or so, but then she decided that dozing in front of the air conditioning blower was a better idea. I stopped for gasoline at Sam's Club, selected a new YouTube video to listen to, hopped on the interstate, and drove toward the coast.

And drove toward the coast.

And drove toward the coast.

And (in case I haven't mentioned it) drove toward the coast.

One really fascinating thing about the United States is that it has such a variety of landscapes, even packed into a relatively small area. My rural county has rolling hills and pastureland. It's green, green, constantly green--even in the winter. Less than two hours later, I had driven through small towns with agricultural auction houses and roadhouses, into the city. On my drive to the coast, I passed through suburbia, then through prairie and pastureland bereft of houses. After passing through the city of Mobile, I found myself surrounded by sand and beach--and a stop at Buc-ees! The final two hours consisted of flat land, decorated by the occasional tree, towns that were wide spots in the road, and a smattering of construction. Staying as much as I do on the homestead, I had forgotten how much we had to choose from in this country of ours.

I'll give little Buttercup a lot of credit. Yaddle is a seasoned traveler who settles into her crate with her blanket and snoozles most of the way to a show or some other new adventure. I swear that Buttercup modeled her behavior on Yaddle's, because after her initial nearly ultrasonic musicale, she slept almost all the way to our hotel. Except for Buc-ees. She discovered that there was Buc-ees' Carolina Pulled Pork Barbeque and that it was good. After stuffing herself with pork sandwich, she went right back to dozing for the remaining two hours on the road, presumably too full to resume her song.

When I'm traveling with Kathleen, I have no issue with putting an ex-pen on the grass outside the room or taking the dogs for short walks to relieve themselves. When I'm by myself, I rely on piddle pads for the dogs to do their business. Yaddle, good girl that she is, demonstrated proper hotel behavior by using the piddle pad and quietly returning to her crate. Buttercup, however, having seven hours of rest behind her, celebrated her new-found freedom by galloping around the room and skidding across the floor on the pad, then by grabbing one corner of the pad and shredding it to bits. She's not the slightest bit of a terrier, not that one. Uh uh. It would take a couple of attempts and several hours for her to get over her excitement, but she finally figured the whole thing out.

By that time, I had made my supper and was out of peopling clothes, snuggled up on the bed with Yaddle (on her Hotel Blanket), pleasantly full and dozing off to some movie on the SyFy Channel. I had texted the new owners and arranged to meet them sometime between 9:30 and 10:00 in the morning at the dog park next to the hotel. Buttercup played quietly in her crate across the room from me with her Red Foxy Toy. My eyes drooped shut, the sound of the television fading into the background--

"Yip!"

"No, Buttercup, honey. It's sleepy time."

Her answering yip informed me that it was most certainly not sleepy time. She was going to stay awake until our normal time (midnight, plus or minus and hour) or until her brothers and sister came to play, whichever came first. Thus ensued multiple minutes of her yipping and my asking her politely to stop. It was early yet, so we weren't going to get kicked out over noise issues.

It took about 20 minutes before her yips diminished, but they didn't stop completely. I was beginning to get concerned. What if she kept it up all night long? I pulled Yaddle's crate over next to the bed and put Buttercup's crate on top of it, so that she was almost level with the top of the mattress. Buttercup wagged her little tail and curled up in a ball, touching the side of the crate nearest to me. I shut the light off again.

"Yip!"

Tremulous barks followed at a softer volume. I was winning the battle but it was not yet won.

I rolled over and put my fingers into her crate. Buttercup wiggled over to them and licked them, all happy. She had been in a hotel before, so it wasn't the newness of the experience that was upsetting her. It was the fact that she was alone in her crate in the dark for the first time in her life. She was reaching out to the one familiar thing that remained: me. In my heart, I knew this and I had sympathy, but I was tired and I needed sleep if I was going to make the long trip home the next day. I took my fingers out of the crate and turned over.

"Yip!"

Buttercup was telling me "fingers inside crate, good. Fingers outside crate, bad." I didn't want to create a habit that the new owners would have to break, but on the other hand, I didn't want for her to have to go sleep in the car, either. I rolled over onto my side again, put my fingers back in the crate, and waited there until my arm got numb, which was right about the time that the puppy fell asleep. I pulled my hand away from the crate. Silence. Hooray!

"Yip!"

I looked at my phone. It was now 2:00 in the morning and Buttercup decided that she wanted to eat, to poo, and to play, in that order, each demand preceded by little yips. Say what you want about terrier puppies, but they're not stupid. Buttercup had learned how to play the game to win. Somewhere around 3:00, she decided that we were tired and that we needed to go back to bed. She snuggled up around Red Foxy Toy and fell asleep until around dawn. That was fine. I had planned to be up, clean the room, put the finishing touches on the puppy, change into my presentable clothes, and drink at least two cups of coffee by the time the puppy buyers arrived. I could get by on adrenaline if I had to do it.

Ah yes, what do they say about the "best laid plans of mice and men?" At ten minutes to nine, I got an excited phone call: "we're here! Can we go over to the dog park now?" I asked them to give me ten minutes--my room was right next to the dog park, which I had ascertained had too many escape routes for a small puppy. I gathered up what I could, tossed Yaddle in my car (gently!), put my hair up, and felt semi-ready for them to arrive.

The puppy buyers (husband and wife) had barely made it inside before they were taking pictures of Buttercup. We had barely made it through the puppy gift bag before they were asking to pick her up. The wife snuggled the puppy until they left--and Buttercup loved her right back. We got the contract signed and they were eager to get back on the road. I watched them retreat down the sidewalk, heads close together as they talked, Buttercup already snuggled against the woman carrying her. The puppy who couldn't bear for my hand not to be in her crate the night before was already replacing me with someone new. I assuaged my sorrowful feelings with a nap curled up next to Yaddle and checked out just on time.

The ride home was uneventful, if you discount my seeing my first-ever Tesla Cybertruck. Um. Yeah. It's probably not for me, but it was fun seeing it. We stopped again at Buc-ees and Yaddle enjoyed the fact that the sandwich was hers alone (shared graciously with Mama, who had paid for it). The timing for the ride back was better than for the ride to the hotel and we sailed through Mobile and Hattiesburg without a hint of traffic. It was an amazing trip, with a lot accomplished in just over 24 hours. Next time I find that perfect puppy buyer, though, they had better be closer to home!

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