This is a true tale of a strange journey made by Maureen Metzger and me in 1969, to our first ASSA National Specialty. It's the story about how Maureen and I, then innocent newbies, suddenly became women to reckon with, tough women who were feared and shunned by others. I wish I could say that the little puppy involved went on to do great things, but that, alas, did not happen.

You might say that this is a tale of the end of innocence, for both husbands and wives.

We had been invited to spend National Week at Banchory, and we were excited, as any novices would be. Our husbands were less than thrilled, but tolerant. I must explain here that during the previous year or two, Maureen and I had been gathering our foundation dogs, and it seemed as if every time either of us visited Banchory, we came back with yet another Sheltie.

We discussed how we were going to make this journey, and as it happened, we decided to go by bus. "Oh, boy," we thought. "We can talk Shelties for uninterrupted hours on the way up, and on the way back, we can get the National all talked out of our systems. This will be great." It's a long way from Tucson, Arizona, to Portland, Oregon. Via bus, the journey would take just over 24 hours. The husbands were most enthusiastic about our going to Portland by bus, and we soon discovered why. Maureen and I would not be able to bring a Sheltie from Banchory back on the bus with us! Yes, the husbands liked this plan! They liked it very, very much.

We did it. We got on the bus and drove away from Tucson on a hot June day going north, yakking Shelties non-stop for uncounted hours. The miles rolled by, people got on and off the bus, we had brief layovers in various towns, and all was well. Why, we weren't even yakked out when we arrived at the bus station in Portland a day later!

We had a great time at our first National Specialty. We saw Ch. Lencrest's Rebel Rouser show his heart out in a very hot building, and go Best of Breed. We encountered hundreds of Shelties, and met dozens of breeders, making many new contacts, some of which have lasted to this day. We ate enough spaghetti and pizza to sink a ship sturdier than the Titanic, and gathered a number of hot new Sheltie topics to sink our teeth into on the bus ride back to Tucson.

At Banchory, a new High Born litter had arrived, and there was some problem with the dam. Only one puppy, a tri female, had survived, and had to be taken off the dam and hand-raised. Donna was worried about the three-day-old puppy, since she had to travel the following week, and had no one experienced to leave the puppy with.

A plan was hatched. Maureen and I volunteered to take the puppy back to Tucson and raise it. Someone came up with a very large straw purse. Tube -feeding apparatus, including a fat 100-cc syringe, was put in, along with a tin of Esbilac, a jar of water, an empty jar, some plastic bags, and many paper towels. We figured that we could mix the Esbilac and water, tube-feed the puppy, then rinse out the syringe and tube with the water, squirting it into the second jar. We could wet a paper towel and potty the puppy, sealing the soiled paper towels into plastic bags. We had a third jar, which we could keep filled with hot water, to be refilled at each of the restroom stops made along the way. We planned to take turns keeping a warm hand on the puppy inside the straw purse.

Carefully packing the straw purse and placing the puppy on a clean towel inside, we drove to the bus station and were on our way to Tucson.

The arrangement worked like a charm. We sat as far back in the bus as we could get, and the high-backed seats made it very difficult for anyone else to see what we were doing. Maureen and I took turns keeping a hand inside the purse to cradle the puppy. At intervals, we would do the tube feeding and then potty the puppy. A couple of times heads turned our way when the puppy did some "Eee, eee, ees," during the pottying, so I began to sing some dotty little song with a chorus of, "Eee, eee eee." At each restroom stop, we would get off the bus, dispose of the soiled paper towels, refill the hot water jar, and wash the syringe thoroughly. We talked Shelties until the wee hours of the morning, and then fell asleep, one of us still clutching the purse.

Everything went along well until we arrived in Las Vegas, where we had over an hour's layover in the morning. We took our purse off the bus and went into the large restroom in the bus station. It was crowded. Ladies were lined up along the wall, waiting for a turn at a bathroom stall. We took our place in line, and soon a couple of little old ladies got in line behind us. By the time it was our turn for a stall, it was time to feed the puppy. We went into the stall together, did the deed, pottied the puppy, and as we were putting the puppy back into the purse, I heard a harsh whisper from somewhere outside the stall. "Did you see that? Both those women went into that stall at the same time! They must be THOSE kind of women." Maureen and I then proceeded to go to the sinks and wash out our tube and the huge syringe. The two little old ladies seemed frozen in place, and made no move to claim our vacated stall. A gal from behind them stepped into it and closed the door. We put the syringe back into our purse, washed our hands, and departed the ladies' room.

The two little old ladies pressed their backs into the wall as we passed, not wanting even to touch us in passing, and their eyes were round and staring. After we walked by them, I heard one let out her breath and say, "Good, Lord, Martha, those are what they call 'addicts.' I've heard about 'em on the news. Did you see the size of that syringe?"

We tried very hard not to laugh until we were safely outside! Being dedicated dog people, we had not even considered what it might look like to others -- washing a milky substance out of a 100-cc syringe after going into a bathroom stall together. We must, indeed, have looked like heavy-duty addicts! We had now arrived, the Bad Sheltie Girls of Vegas! Maureen and I swagggered just a little as we took our seats in the bus. We were now suspects. We felt big and tough.

At long last the bus pulled up at the station in Tucson. Our journey at last was at an end. The little tri puppy lay quiet and content in her purse bed. We were tired, and had at last left off talking about Shelties. It would be good to go home, take a shower, and fall into bed.

Jim Metzger met us at the station. As we waited for our bags to be lifted from the hold of the bus, Jim asked about our trip. Suspiciously, he asked Maureen, "Did you guys buy another dog? I mean, is another Sheltie going to arrive here by air that you have just bought?

"Nope," we answered together.

"At last!" Jim exclaimed. "You went to Banchory and didn't come home with a dog!"

Smiling, I handed Jim the straw purse.

The End