Belle, our official four-legged worry-wart, wrinkled her forehead and acted very concerned, but then again she always acts concerned. Beau, Tony's Blue Heeler, basically blew me off and ran outside to chase his squirrel friend.
And Little Debbie and Big Al(ice) were not happy campers about us leaving them behind for a couple of days, so they intentionally used their potty-pads right in front of me, so I had to stop and replace their soiled pee/poop-pads with new ones before heading out the door.
Our trip today was fun, too. Our first pit-stop was at the Pilots Truck Stop, in Junction. We bought two sausage, egg and cheese biscuits and one breakfast taco. Then we took off and ate while Tony drove Sparky down I-10.
Around Ozona, while we were listening to Willie's Roadhouse on Sirius' channel 59, I said, "Tony, don't you just love Sparky!"
"Yeah, it is a great go-cart. When do you want to start driving?"
"Soon," I lied.
About fifteen miles before we got to Ft. Stockton, Sparky told Tony that we were low on fuel and believe it or not, the very next exit sign showed a gas station. So, we took that exit and sure enough, out in the middle of nowhere was a tiny gas station and nothing else.
So when we pulled into this little oasis, in the desert, I told Tony that I would go inside to pay for the gas while he filled up Sparky. "I'm also going to dump out our trash," I said.
When I walked over to the blue, rubbermaid trash can, without a lid, I started to toss out what was left of the breakfast taco and two breakfast biscuits, but before I could dispose of our leftovers seven, beautiful cats, that all looked closely related surrounded me and started meowing at me. "Y'all want some breakfast?" I asked. Their answer was a definite yes, so I carefully unwrapped the taco and biscuits and fed them to the cats. Then I went inside the gas station and paid the woman for our gas and confessed to her that I had just fed the cats.
She smiled and said, "Thanks. I usually feed them in the evening when I close for the night."
When we turned off I-10 to get on Highway 67, Tony once again, asked me when I wanted to take over the driving, and I told him, "When we get to Alpine." And of course that didn't happen, even when we stopped to top-off Sparky, near Sul Ross.
When we turned onto Highway 118, Tony complained about being tired of driving. So, I ignored him and changed the channel to a comedy station, to make him laugh and forget about me driving. Then I sent Chet a text to let him know our approximate arrival time.
Seconds later, my phone rang and it was Chet. "Hi Nancy...."
We checked in, at the Terlingua Lodge, just a little past 3:00 and they gave us a key to our cozy cabin, #33.