I made it town yesterday, and that’s always an interesting adventure. Just getting there is often the most exciting part. Alan, the Shepherd, has had an infection in his nose, and after nine years without a vet visit, I figured it would be worth the effort.
And there was some effort involved. Boy, I should have taken a picture. It was a sight to see!
Our truck is parked 6 ½ miles down the “road,” and we normally snowmobile or cross country ski to get to and from our ranch to the parking area. Well, with a 13 year old dog, walking from the ranch to the truck can take a long while – probably at least 2 ½ hours just to get to the truck. Then another 2 ½ hours driving to the vet. So, we decided if we could snowmobile Alan out, we’d save 2 hours.
Bob’s old dog, Bomber, was a pro at riding the snowmobile. Some dogs won’t get on the machines without wrestling; other may actually enjoy it, others tolerate it. Bomber tolerated riding, until she got a “mom” (me) to walk with her so she didn’t have to climb on board any more. Alan less than tolerates riding, so we needed to figure out a plan here. Bob’s the “plan man.” And of course, he came up with one that worked!
Onto his work snowmobile, a big bulky snowmobile equivalent to the draft horse of the snowmobile world, he hooked up the large tub sled. For those who haven’t seen these sleds, they are really shaped like a huge bath tub, bright yellow fiberglass, with hard plastic runners like skis underneath. This tub sled is so huge we hauled the sheetrock for our ceiling on it, and have hauled hay for our horses in it. We’ve even put down a few straw bales along the bottom and used it for a snowmobile drawn hay ride for guests. For the most part, we use it for bringing in guests’ gear or our groceries.
Anyway, Bob hooks up the tub sled, and in it, sets up a green plastic lawn chair in the middle, bungeed down to at least prevent it from flying out. In front of that, he’s got a soft layer of “bedding” – an old sleeping bag.
The plan was for me to ride out on the chair, backwards so I did not get whipped in the face with all the snow kicked up from Bob’s sled, and holding on to the dog to keep him from jumping out. He’s 88 pounds (I know this for a fact now that he finally had a proper vet visit and was put on a scale), so I had to hold him pretty good, and hope he didn’t lean to far to the sides where he not only risked flying out, but tipping the sled and sending us both out and onto the hard packed snow.
So, there we go, heading down the “road,” riding about 20 miles per hour (I’d yell to Bob to slow down when he’d go any faster, as the tub sled would start bouncing around and flinging me and Alan around the road, backward and out of control…).
And we made it. There yesterday, back today.
Thank goodness for Bob’s crazy ideas. And thank goodness I trust my husband with my life… again.