I got an early start to go and pick up my new dog. I got as far as the first corner only to put on my brakes and discover I had none. Whoo! Immediately, I decided someone had tampered with my brakes. Someone followed through on one of the threats I have received over my disagreement with Denis.
I returned home and went to my new neighbour's place next door, who is a mechanic. My rear brake line was broken. He fixed it right away. No charge! Bless him.
I was a little late picking up Dylan, who wasn't ready. Finally, we headed out.
In an hour we stopped at the French River Trading Post for a break and ice cream
In another hour of traveling I thought we were almost there. When we past the exits for Parry Sound we were both watching for Muskoka Road 5. And watching. . . . .and watching. . . . and watching.
I should have consulted my Ontario road map. I thought our exit was just after Parry Sound. It was taking forever. When I got to Muskoka Road 38, with a start! "Whoo, Oh, No! "I turned off and stopped the first person I saw, a jogger and ask where Muskoka Road 5 was. It turned out to another 10 minutes down the expressway
I should have know it was not near Parry Sound. I have paddle the Severn River and I new roughly where Port Severn was, without consulting a map. The exist turned out to be the one for Honey Harbour where, many years ago, some paddling friends and I landed at the fancy Delawana Inn and partied with the guests for three days before the management figured out we were not paid guest and sent us on our way. It was a nice respite on a canoe trip. Awe memories of a fancy free youth.
We got there having traveled about an hour longer than I had figured.
The dog was tied on the porch and immediately came and greeted me affectionately. Standing by me and leaning on me. "You suckee! Trying to win my heart." And, she did. (The breeder called today and said she was very pleased when I showed up that the dog did not bark a warning but came to greet me instead.)
The people were very nice. The woman was no "Tinkerbell" the name she used in her email address. I tried to get her to tell me the story but she never did. She was very warm and friendly and very family and dog oriented. The substantial tattoos were fascinating and I suspect told another story.
Dylan and I looked at all her dogs. 7 breeding females, a stud, two partially grown dogs and a new litter of 10 puppies. Her young son was carrying around a baby squirrel which Dylan enjoyed seeing up close. Animals have play a big part in this household over the years.The dogs name was Wolverine, which after a long conversation with Dylan on the way home I decided this name was too butch for my bitch. I wasn't prepared to share my bed with a Wolverine. I have renamed her "Heidi". Ahh! that's better. it honours her German heritage. (The Great Dane was developed from a cross between the Masstif and the Irish Elk Hound to be the perfect dog to hunt wild boar. Wonder how my pigs will feel about that.)
Heidi dreaming of a new beginning in an interesting place.
Heidi was willing to ride in the back seat for most of our ride home with the occasion head nuzzle.
For the last twenty miles she climbed into the front seat and insisted sitting on Dylan's lap as if she was some lap dog.
Here are some of the female dogs greeting us.
A boy and a dog. a perfect relationship.