The miracles of modern times …. 1,000 miles in three days
By Gina Spadafori
November 10, 2008
We passed one out of two tests, and now we’re just one pass away from McKenzie’s junior hunter (four passes are required). Alas, there’s not another test until February, and it may well be the case that McKenzie may be nursing puppies then.
Yep, I’m going there.
As we’ve argued here as part of the case against mandatory breeding bans, all breeders are not puppy-milling scum or clueless, careless back-yard breeders. So I will now for the first time soon be joining those who work to preserve our heritage breeds, in my case a retriever breed that remains a smart, loving and lively family member and versatile companion hunting dog.
Thirty years “in” dogs and a lifetime with them, and I will soon be catching a plane to the Midwest with McKenzie for a three-night stand with a dog she’ll never meet again. At least it’s not as bad as what her mother went through: My friend and McKenzie’s mom flew to Copenhagen, there to meet a top Swedish field dog whose owners brought him over on a ferry for the liaison.
McKenzie was conceived on Christmas Day 2004 in a Danish hotel room. Yes, dog people are crazydedicated.
The Midwest in winter is not a trip to Europe, but I don’t have a real winter coat, so that will be an adventure. Never driven in snow, either. Yes, I’m crazydedicated.
This week I have to get one more health clearance on McKenzie (her CERF certification; hips, elbows and patellas are already done) and then we just wait for nature to call as to when we book the flight.
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Lot of work today … deadlines galore. So I’ll end with how strange it is to be able to travel 1,000 miles in three days, compared to how impossible that was through almost all of human existence.
Still, it’s a haul, made easier by music. For a couple hours of yesterday’s seven-hour drive, I listened again to the first album I ever bought with my own money, Simon and Garfunkle’s “A Bridge Over Troubled Water.” I saved up the baby-sitting money to get it then; I seem to remember it was $3.99 on vinyl new in 1970, when I would have been 12 years old. Cost a little more on iTunes now, but well worth it. I hadn’t listened in years, but of course I remembered every word.
They call me Baby Driver, and once upon a set of wheels hit the road an I’m go-o-o-one, what’s my number, wonder how your engine feels.
Sha na na na, it’s good to be home.
Pictured: Drew, outstanding in his field, with the hunt test gallery in the distance behind him. I can honestly report he was stunned and rather horrified to see so many wet retrievers, and he does not understand why people will sit in chairs all day to watch retrievers, uh, retrieve.
Want to get a few laughs? Bring a Sheltie to a hunt test. I bet a full two dozen people stopped to tell me that there weren’t any sheep on the grounds, as if Pretty Boy Drew would herd anything anyway. A working dog this one is not. But he’s cute, and sweet as can be.







