My driving buddy (slobber protector), Ingrid, sped over to my house once we realized this run was moving about an hour FASTER than expected. We zoomed west from Nashville to the lovely McDonald’s at exit 143 (Hurricane Mills.) In fact, a couple of canine hurricanes awaited us, in the furry forms of “Adam” and “Nikita” — our transport charges. Brandy pulled into the parking lot about a minute after we did and warned us about their pulling natures. Sure enough, within about 30 seconds, the spinning, disorganized, goofy Adam took me DOWN into the McDonald’s grass, but I did not let go of the leash. No, I did not. Nikita was slightly more sedate, but not much. Somehow, we got everyone out of one car and into another.
And then we drove to Nashville. Both doggies were nutso: energetic, funny, loving, stupid-cute, mouthy, etc. We had a nice hour of dog saliva and loud protestations: “NO!” “Stop THAT!” “OMG, where’s Nikita? Has he somehow left the vehicle?” etc. But we made it back to Music City in one piece, laughing rather a lot. By the time we met the next car (a couple of young transport newcomers we felt somewhat sorry for) we were shellacked with saliva, fur and dander.
