Hitting the road for home

Casey's last romp in Minnesota with Mom

A short walk around the tarmac with Bob was no where near as comforting for our urine-soaked Minnesota refugee as I was hoping. There was no sign that this little guy had been traumatized by his flight, but he had no intention of relieving himself after his six-hour trip (including a stopover in Minneapolis). A sniff here, another there, an occasional glance at Pacific Highway traffic, and rarely acknowledging the existence of the big guy on the other end of the leash.

It was time to hit the road for home, but first thing first. My new charge was in dire need of a bath. After removing smelly, wet debris from his carrier, I installed it in my Prius for a side-trip south to Federal Way. For the record, his water dish was dry, a plastic bag of adult kibble (Purina One) was taped to the carrier top, and paperwork accompanying the crate indicated Bob was actually seven-months-old, all red flags for mistreatment. A discussion for later.

One thing for sure, Bob would be in his forever home in a couple of hours. Before that though, my daughter-in-law Ernie would soon be the first of the tribe to meet the kid, urine or no urine. Some introduction to the family. No where to go but up.