Bringing Scout Home

 

This story begins back in September when I wrote a lighthearted response to a facebook picture of a brand-new litter of collie puppies from Sophie’s breeder.  The proud mother was Sophie’s litter mate.  “I would really be tempted by these if they weren’t related to Sophie,” I commented.  Her reply should have been a warning.  “I just sent you a private message,” she said. 

Not being a cautious type of person, I read her message.  Turns out, she had a male puppy from an unrelated pair. The father was the young dog I had seen and admired when I picked up Sophie almost two years ago. I tried to be responsible about this.  I told her I would think about it and let her know.  Then she sent a picture.  I did think about it.  Then she sent a picture of the mother.    I thought about how cute he was and how stunning his parents are almost all that day.  Then I wrote out a check for a deposit and put it in the mail.  

Temptation

Fast forward to the first week of November and Puppy was ready to come home with me.  Now, I know that the smart thing to do when transporting a new puppy is to put him in a crate.  I have a perfectly good crate.  But I think a better way is to hold the puppy, get to know him, tell him all about where he is going and find out what his name is.  So, I enlisted my friend Clay to accompany me on the 2 ½ hour trip and act as driver on the way home.  He had made the trip to pick up Sophie, which was fairly uneventful, other that her three bouts of car sickness.  It was the same area, although a new address, so it should be a nice trip on a fall day. 

The night before, I pulled up directions and a map on my phone app.  There were a lot of turns, but the directions seemed pretty clear.  That was before I found out that the area where we were going has no road markers.  None.  Not even a little tiny wooden sign with a name scribbled on it.  I had the names of all the roads we were supposed to turn on.  Totally useless information.  The only guide we had was a little blue ball on the little map on my phone.  I did not fully trust the little blue ball.  And Clay is not the most technology literate person I know.  He can’t even work his own phone very well, much less mine.

To be fair to myself, I have had some unfortunate experiences with GPS.  I believe I have mentioned before a night in Huntsville, Alabama, when my friend Carol and I toured the entire town several times, including two visits to a nice subdivision and a parking lot of a Mexican restaurant.  It was a nice subdivision and I like Mexican food.  But we had already eaten, and we wanted to go to the western store. 

Anyway, things went fairly well up to the point that we left the town of Woodbury and entered Warren County.  That was the last time we saw any indication about where we were or what road we were on.  It took quite a while for Clay to figure out how to work the app on my phone, which kept going to a blank screen every now and then.  And I couldn’t take my hands off the wheel or my eyes off the winding road we were on.  It probably didn’t help that I kept repeating, “We’re lost” and asking, “Do you have any idea where we are?”   It’s a wonder he didn’t push me out of the truck on the way up that mountain.  He just kept saying that the blue ball was saying we were on the correct route.  Several times, I said that I didn’t think that blue ball knew where we were going and that I was never going to see my new puppy.  It was quite a stressful journey, for both of us.  Clay needed a cigarette in the worse way and he said he thought I needed one too.   The only bright spot was that I was not pulling a horse trailer and we had plenty of gas.  And we saw several nice-looking houses for sale, just in case we couldn’t find out way back home and had to live there.

Turns out, the little blue ball was right.  Remarkably, it took us right to the door where I met my puppy for the first time.  I was distracted on the trip home by getting acquainted (his name turned out to be Scout) and changing out the towels he threw up on.  I was on my fourth and last towel on the last leg of our journey – he had to outdo Sophie by throwing up four times instead of just three.  I suspect he was beginning to worry that he was going to be living in that truck forever.   

I think I only asked Clay if he knew how to get back through the maze of unmarked roads three or four times.  He mostly didn’t answer me except to give me a look.  I think he did mention that if I ever bought another puppy, I needed to find someone else to go with me. 

It was quite an adventure, bringing Scout home.  I have a feeling, however, that the adventure is only beginning with this sweet, lively, smart little bundle of fur.  He has Sophie’s same sweet collie eyes, an enthusiasm for life, and seemingly boundless intelligence.  He learned to sit for a treat within the first 24 hours and went right to sleep on his blanket by my bed the first night.   

I saw a shooting star in the yard during our 3:00 a.m. potty run.  I am once more getting used to sharp puppy teeth, sweet puppy kisses, missing shoes, and enjoying moonlit night journeys to the yard. After a slightly rocky start, Sophie has taken to him and is busy teaching him the ropes.  She has already showed him her secret way out of the yard. This story will have a sequel, maybe many sequels.  “The Adventures of Sophie and Scout” has a nice ring to it.