The Real Story Behind Retrieving Roadie...

I'm Craig Williams and my wife Bernie and I moved from New Jersey to tiny West Lebanon, NH in 1991. Bernie was a hospital pharmacist and I ran a small security products factory.

Our New Jersey home was too small for a dog, but our new place had plenty of outdoor space. Between moving and getting settled at work, though, we couldn't find time to check out the animal shelters. 

In March 1993, I flew from Boston to Dallas to display our products at a bank trade show.

On a Tuesday night after the trade show, riding in a cab to my hotel, I spotted an animal shelter. I asked the driver to drop me there.

Inside, there were so many awesome dogs. I wanted to take them all home with me. 

At the end of the "small dog" room, in a crate on the floor, was Buffy - a matted mess. She wasn't barking like most of the others. A clipboard hanging from her cage read, "Buffy (F) - Euthanize Thursday." Just two days away. I asked the attendant to open the crate, and Buffy leapt into my arms. 

She was the one.

The shelter's rule was that if you wanted an animal, you had to take it with you. They wouldn't hold them. Understandable. I phoned Bernie and got her okay to bring Buffy home. A trusting move for Bernie, since this happened in an age before cell phones were popular, and I couldn't zap her a pic. 

Buffy would need shots (and a bath) before she could fly. I had a 6:00 a.m. flight on Thursday, so I needed to find a 24-hour veterinarian/kennel located between downtown and the airport. I made a donation to the shelter and called a cab. The driver took us to the wrong place. They weren't open 24/7. I phoned for another cab, which brought us to a 24/7 vet/kennel. I told the desk person that I'd be in super early on Thursday.

My alarm sounded at 3:30 a.m. I grabbed a cab to the vet clinic, and when the attendant brought out Buffy, all bathed and fluffy, I almost didn't recognize her. I bent down to pet her and she peed on my foot. I cleaned up and piled her into the cab. At the airport, I carried Buffy to the check-in desk. I was the only one in line. The clerk scowled at me when she saw the dog. She disappeared behind a door and emerged with dog crate parts, which she began to assemble. By the time she finished, over a dozen people waited behind me, grumbling and getting increasingly agitated.

I loaded kibble and water in bowls for Buffy, told her I'd see her in Boston and watched her glide down the conveyor belt, out of sight. 

My original flight plan was Dallas to Chicago, Chicago to Boston. By 10:00 that morning, flights started changing and canceling due to severe storms in the Midwest and snowstorms in New England.

My Chicago flight was changed to Washington Dulles, and I finally boarded at around 4:00. I worried about Buffy. From my window, I could see her crate ride up a conveyor belt into the plane. I breathed a relieved sigh. 

But that flight was rough. Really rough. Dropping...rising...dropping...dips...sideways slides...shaking...it had everything in the turbulent flight book. I couldn't stop thinking about Buffy down there in the cargo hold.

We landed at Washington Dulles Airport. At that time, the airport used "mobile lounges" - elevated vehicles that were a cross between a bus and a subway car. I had a tight connection for Boston, so I sweated as I stood in line for the subway bus. Inside, we were packed tightly. Some guy poked me in the gut with his umbrella and mumbled an unconvincing, "Sorry."

At the terminal. I raced to my gate, which was jammed with screaming passengers. All flights were delayed. The commuter airline had been sold that day and planes were being painted with new logos.

Some time later, I boarded. I didn't see Buffy being loaded onto the plane, so I asked a flight attendant how I could be sure that my dog made it on safely. She shrugged and pointed at the "Fasten Seat Belt" sign. 

Outside, thunder was getting louder, the sky was getting darker and it started snowing. An hour later, the pilot announced that our flight was canceled for weather. We had to disembark. All flights were grounded. 

I bolted for baggage pick-up and spotted Buffy's crate on the carousel. I brought her to the closest water fountain, filled up dishes with water and kibble. She licked my hand. 

I put the crate and luggage on a cart and wheeled as fast as I could to a car rental kiosk. It was almost 9:00 and the clerk was closing for the night. She gave me the last available car. Outside, I found a snowy/grassy spot for Buffy to relieve herself. Somehow, she hadn't messed in the crate. 

With Buffy snuggled in her crate in the back seat, I drove 11 hours in a snowstorm and passed several accidents. Twenty-eight hours after my alarm jarred me out of bed in Dallas, I made it home just as Bernie was leaving for work. 

I said, "Bernie, meet Buffy. I hope you like her!"

Of course, she loved her. Buffy was a major part of our lives until she passed in 2010.