Transporting: It's not just a drive in the country.

Did I mention I work, well, volunteer, with a BC rescue? I do.
Did my first transport a couple days ago. Interesting, to say the least...

To start, I'm not on the transport list, but we had a transport coming in the previous night that was a special case, and the other usual transporters are either on vacation, or had other commitments. So I stepped into the breach.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Right away, I had to address my wife's understandable distress that I suddenly pulled the plug on half of Saturday - The half where she usually sleeps in. She's in rehearsal for "Oklahoma," and has been burning the candle at both ends and the middle. So the possible loss of her Saturday AM recuperation was devastating. Well I managed to cool her down long enough to explain my plan to ensure she got her rest - A plan, which, as it turned out, worked flawlessly -
One of the few things that *did* go according to plan that day. Not that she trusted it at first; But I'd already put my foot down - We weren't leaving that dog, or that shelter either, to twist in the wind, and that was that. So, with ill-grace, she backed down. But my plan meant that I had little time to make the rendezvous - and my mapping software mis-calculated the distance by 20%. Oops! Running late, and I hadn't even left the house, nor did I even know it yet!

Fortunately, I didn't dawdle, and when I discovered I was cutting it really close, I was also getting pretty close to the meeting point. But then I got a call - the other transporter was early! And she had other stops - She was relocating dogs to half a dozen breed-specific rescues, and had a long way to go... And I wasn't there yet! Fortunately, she was gracious about it, and she WAS early.

130 miles from home, as I started to pull off the highway, I felt a horrible jolt, and then a second one - I'd hit something, something I never saw. I pulled to the shoulder, got out, and immediately heard the sickening rush of air escaping a tire - rapid deflation. Fortunately, I was at the foot of the correct exit, and the meeting was just off the ramp, but by the time I limped into the truck stop where we were to meet, my tire was done for. I met the other transporter, and took custody of Marly, a BC/retriever mix who was shy, and semi-feral.
Lovely - A timid dog, on top of everything else.

Get her into the cool of the van, and lock it up - Then trot into the truck stop and see if they service cars. They don't. Back out to the van, secure Marly, then open all the doors and windows, and break out the tools - I've got to get the donut on, and get across town to the nearest service center that could get me running again today. And no, I don't have AAA. So I do all the work.

Up onto the jack, and discover the lug bolts are heavily rusted. OK, no problem, I'm a big strong guy - But by the time I broke loose all the lug nuts, I'm literally streaming with perspiration - It's HOT out here! In literally five minutes, I was soaked through. OK, wheel off, time to drop the donut and put it on. But noooo... The damn thing is seized. Sit down, drink some water, give Marly some water, rest a couple.

OK, up under the van, and bang on the locknut, and apply the wrench. No go. Hit it harder. It moves. Marly is shifting around above me - I'm making one hell of a racket. But she never utters a sound. Just moves - Away from the hammering, I think. I've got sweat pooling in my eyes...

Back out, sit, wipe my face and hands, drink some water, offer Marly some, and begin again.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Repeat repeatedly.

At last, the nut breaks free, and I get the donut on. Off we go, across town, to the garage. They agree that they can get me moving again in about an hour - but the manager won't let Marly inside to the AC - one of her mechanics was recently bitten by a customer's dog. Marly has been a saint so far, and I'm insulted, but I can't actually vouch for her, so I grab the camp chair from the back of the van, a bottle of water, a bowl, and Marly, and set up camp in the shade of the garage, in a nice cross-breeze. The shade and breeze is a God-send. Marly is hot and stressed, and the quiet little nap she takes is exactly what she needed.

'45-minutes- to-an-hour' turns into two and half hours. Yuk - I'm going to be getting in *VERY* late. But I'm back on the road again, and that's what counts. Then Marly gets sick - the other transporter had fed her! Ugh - Big pile of semi-digested kibble there on the van floor. Oh, I'd had Marley out of the crate - The crate I brought was too small for her. Rookie mistake. Instead, I'd secured her leash very carefully to the structure of the car. As she was doing so well, I left her out of the crate, and she didn't get any of the sick on her - She neatly deposited it in a corner, then looked sheepishly at me. So, I stop, and clean up the mess - I may've brought the wrong crate, but I *did* bring cleaning supplies!

OK, we're off and running again, then I hear flowing liquid. And smell an unmistakable aroma. She'd just crapped in the car - And it's liquid, not solid. *sigh* This is why I brought the cleaning supplies. Stop again, and check out the mess - She's crapped/squirted all over the donut that I couldn't get loose earlier, and had stuck in the back of the van, rather than wrestle with a second time. I laugh my ass off - Good girl! *Exactly* my sentiments!

About this point in time, I begin catching myself repeatedly almost calling her Suka - the name of my soon-to-be very-own BC/X. OK, anyway, another clean up, and we're moving again. No more stops - She's feeling better, and has corked herself between the front seats, looking interestedly around. Or, sometimes she'd lie down, or stick her nose between me and the window, from behind my seat. In short, she's *really* well-behaved in the car. This is a shy semi-feral? Looks to me like her instincts are perfect - I'm quite certain she’ll find a home with ease.

The remainder of the run goes flawlessly - five hours late, though.
I'm sunburnt, and beat. But Marly is safe.