Dad and Sharon decided they wanted to get another Aussie a few years ago, but the time was never "right." My dad finally got in contact with the breeder who we got Dash from and we were referred to a breeder down in Cape Girardeau. Sharon called me up and asked if I wanted to come and help pick the "new family member."
I can't resist a puppy.
Dad, Sharon, Nathaniel and I, (very Monty Python...) piled in the car and headed on our way. We stopped at the gas station and where they got things that make sense for a road trip, while I got Simply Orange orange juice and M&M's. I know those things definitely don't mix, but still...
We drove for a couple hours until I had to go to the bathroom. I could barely listen to the new Blink-182 CD I had downloaded onto my iPod, I had to pee so bad. Dad finally found me a gas station, and I bolted from the car before it stopped moving. I ran inside with what I assume was a frantic look on my face because the (very cute) guy at the counter pointed at the bathroom.
"Right over there miss!" He proclaimed, like he was a ring master at a circus.
I panted a quick, "Thank you!" as I ducked into the door and into a stall. I was pretty amazed that the little gas station had stalls in their bathroom, but of course didn't ask questions. With a heavy and happy sigh, I peed.
Sharon come in a minute after me, and while I was still mid-pee, she decided to strike up a conversation with me.
One thing people should know is that I don't like to talk while doing anything in the bathroom. It's just weird.
So when she asked me what I thought of the ride, "Oh, yeah..." I mumbled at her. I had to get out of there fast. I peed harder, and was on the brink of having bladder muscle cramps, but I would have rather that then keep chatting about the drive while urinating.
I left the stall and washed my hands and said, "I'll be waiting on the car!" I skidaddled quickly, and then really went and sat on the car. Dad had locked the doors, but thankfully he had parked in the sun so I stayed relatively warm. They had decided to buy more food and drinks, but I didn't want to have to pee again, so I was happy to wait.
We piled back in the car again and headed on our way. We kept going south until we hit mile marker 99. That was are golden exit. Dad had given Sharon the directions even though she was definitely not in the navigator seat, nor could she understand the way my dad had taken down the notes, but I decided to let it slide. That is what wives are for: screwing up directions.
After Sharon conceded defeat, "I can't read your directions! They stop at the end of the page! Why didn't you just turn the paper over?" I grabbed the notebook.
"See," I said, pointing with my finger, "He just moved it to the middle of the page here." I gave Dad the rest of the directions and we finally found the place.
It wasn't exactly a trailer park, (the houses were built on the ground,) but is was pretty "hoos," as St. Louisans like to say. Opening the car door, it smelled like dog shit. And dog vomit. And unwashed dog hair. I crinkled my nose. We waved to the lady who was waiting on the driveway. She lead us to the back yard where her husband was waiting in the puppy pen with the two candidates.
See, we had to pick carefully, because my Dashelle was quite the handful. He didn't particularly like other dogs. He would tolerate some, like Sharon's friend's dog Hank, and my mom's dog Cooper. He is a bully though, and I know it. I suggested we get the more outgoing puppy when we went, so as he got older he would stick up for himself.
We climbed into the pen one at a time, and the puppies seemed timid. I was a little afraid that they weren't gonna warm up. We cooed at the little boys and offered our hands, and the one with the black ear came over to me and Nathaniel. We scooped him up and let him lick our faces. He was the one Dad and I had pretty much figured was the puppy we would get anyways. We had asked earlier the size of the parents, and knew that he was going to be a monster of a dog, just like my Dash.
The other puppy sat pressed up against my dad and never really warmed up to anyone. He was very shy. The first puppy got happier and friskier the more we played with him, and we knew he was the one.
Sharon went to get her computer from the car and had problems with doing the PayPal thing. She asked me if I had ever used PayPal before, which I had when I had to pay my taxes, but didn't have an account or anything, so I wasn't really helpful. I kept petting our new puppy and talking to him.
Nathaniel and I were arguing about what to name the puppy. I wanted to name him Sidney, and I was going to get my way one way or another.
There was a reason I wanted to name him Sidney. Dad and I had made fun of Dash when he came back from the groomer and they hadn't shaved him arms. He had these big furry front arms that kinda looked like a sloth. That was when Dad and I started calling Dash "Sid the Sloth" which we later decided should be the name for our new puppy.
Sharon disagreed once we met our new puppy saying that "he didn't look like a Sid." I decided to fight to name the puppy Sid. I tried other names like Georgie, and Ham, and Taco-Burrito-Grande-Nacho. They didn't seem to stick. Especially the last one.
And then I stumbled upon the ultimate reasoning. "He is an Australian Shepherd," I said, stressing the country of origin, (which of course Australian Shepherds were bred in America, but that was regardless of the point,) "And therefore he should be named Sidney. After Sidney, Australia."
It seemed that it was the perfect reasoning. It was irrefutable. It was like I had planted the flag of names on the puppy. He was named by me, just like my dog Dash.
Sharon paid the breeder $631, and we loaded him up in the car and headed on our way. At first everything was okay. Sid was being super cute and slightly clingy, and he kept licking us. We put him in the middle of the seat and shaded his little face. Everything was going well, I was even able to get through my Blink CD.
That was when Nathaniel made an ick face and said, "He puked on me!"
Sure enough the puppy had puked all over the place. Then Sid got the "Oh, man. That looks good!" face and I had to grab him away from the half digested kibble. Dad pulled the car over and cleaned the puke up, and soon we were back on the road. We made it home soon enough, and finally it was time for Dash to meet his new little brother.
We brought the puppy inside and put him in the front foyer. Dash came and started sniffing around. His nose started to run out of control, dripping and sliming the puppy up. He seemed excited more than "I want to kill" so we got some paper towels and wiped the puppy and floors up.
Dash seemed confused about the puppy's presence, but accepting for the moment. Eventually the puppy got tired and settled down. We made Dash calm down too. And eventually I was able to get an adorable picture of both of them.
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