Here's the scene. On Saturday afternoon I fly from Maine to Minnesota via Detroit--there are no direct flights from Maine to anywhere. I'm on a high as I'm going to pick up my new Toller puppy Zeke who is turning 8 weeks old. I've been waiting for him since before he was born. I arrive and meet the co-breeders, Barb and Krista. Krista has just flown in from British Columbia to see the puppies herself. It's 6pm. Back to the house we go with daylight fading. Well I can say I've seen a little bit of MN but not much. By the time we get to Barb's house it's dark. The puppies were all running around outside with the stud's owner--Cindy--watching them. I was so excited, I didn't even introduce myself. I just threw myself into the puppy pile. We play with puppies, eat dinner and off to bed so I can get up at 4 am to catch my flight home. Barb was amazing. She welcomes this stranger into her home, offers transportation back and forth to the airport, and even cooks for me (you have to understand that Barb doesn't cook).
I should have had Zeke sleep with me away from his littermates, but I was selfish and wanted one more nights sleep and I wanted him to have his last night with his brother and seven sisters. Big mistake, or at least that's what I'm goting to blame it on. The silent puppy became a Toller-screaming maniac. I should have known I was in trouble when Barb and I stopped twice on our way to the airport to see if he needed to "potty." He didn't. Lap or crate, it didn't matter. He whined and screamed.
Once at the airport (it's now 5 am), the ladies at the ticket counter "oohed" and "aahed" over the cute puppy and sent me on our way. Security was a breeze and we were at the gate. It was simple. Zeke had been quiet the entire time. We were all set....or were we. Once I sat down, it started. First, a quiet whine then a full-blown Toller yowl almost "the scream." So I picked up the crate and....silence. Seems he was quiet as long as he was moving. An hour later, my arm was ready to fall off and it was time to board the plane.
Do you know how quiet a 6 am flight is, once everyone is settled and waiting for the plane to take off? Very! Next time listen, because it's more quiet than you can imagine. Well, almost quiet. First it was a quiet whine--"no, Zeke, you've got to be quiet. Those people look mad." "Shhh...Shhh...I'm not allowed to take you out of your crate. Here, you're on my lap." "Just poke your head out...no you can't get out."
He didn't stop until we were airbourne, and from time to time throughout the flight he even dozed, but just when I dozed, he woke up....and whined. I spent the entire flight with my head against the seat in front of me, stroking his head and ears. My back ached for a week!
Finally, we arrived in Boston. This is where the story gets messy and, no, not because Zeke had a mess. I walked for an hour to keep him quiet, I had been up since 4 am. I just wanted to be home and I had another flight to go--this time on a small plane. What if he yowled through this one too. But he seemed to have made friends in the terminal. One came over to meet him. How cute--my response, "you won't think he's cute if you have to sit next to him!"
Boarding call and I hand the gate attendant my boarding pass. Then she asks for the dog's boarding pass. Mind you, I had already flown in from Minnesota. No one had questioned the dog, nor given me a boarding pass. The result--pay $100. No, she didn't believe he was a future search dog. She was sorry but there was no way around it. The plane was leaving either pay or don't fly. Through all of this, Zeke was now at a full-blown SCREAM. If you haven't heard a Toller scream, imagine fingers on a chalkboard--magnified and loud. I was so mad and so trapped and so tired, I was in tears. After all, I had called the airline three times before I left to make sure that Zeke could fly for free in-cabin as a future SAR dog.
This time, he didn't even stop screaming even when we walked onto the plane. What if he screamed the whole way. We found our seat and guess who our seatmate was....
I stowed Zeke under the seat for take off and as soon as the plane pushed back from the gate, blessed silence. A half hour later....silence. He had never been that quiet since I had yanked him from his littermates. Was he still alive? Had the stress killed him? Was he getting enough air? Did I want to check on him? What if I woke him? What if he was dead? My seatmate and I looked at each other and I dove for the crate, put my hand in and....he lived, and he still never quivered. He didn't move until I got outside the airport in Bangor.
I hope when he's a certified dog and we fly again in-cabin, my experience is better then that!
I should have had Zeke sleep with me away from his littermates, but I was selfish and wanted one more nights sleep and I wanted him to have his last night with his brother and seven sisters. Big mistake, or at least that's what I'm goting to blame it on. The silent puppy became a Toller-screaming maniac. I should have known I was in trouble when Barb and I stopped twice on our way to the airport to see if he needed to "potty." He didn't. Lap or crate, it didn't matter. He whined and screamed.
Once at the airport (it's now 5 am), the ladies at the ticket counter "oohed" and "aahed" over the cute puppy and sent me on our way. Security was a breeze and we were at the gate. It was simple. Zeke had been quiet the entire time. We were all set....or were we. Once I sat down, it started. First, a quiet whine then a full-blown Toller yowl almost "the scream." So I picked up the crate and....silence. Seems he was quiet as long as he was moving. An hour later, my arm was ready to fall off and it was time to board the plane.
Do you know how quiet a 6 am flight is, once everyone is settled and waiting for the plane to take off? Very! Next time listen, because it's more quiet than you can imagine. Well, almost quiet. First it was a quiet whine--"no, Zeke, you've got to be quiet. Those people look mad." "Shhh...Shhh...I'm not allowed to take you out of your crate. Here, you're on my lap." "Just poke your head out...no you can't get out."
He didn't stop until we were airbourne, and from time to time throughout the flight he even dozed, but just when I dozed, he woke up....and whined. I spent the entire flight with my head against the seat in front of me, stroking his head and ears. My back ached for a week!
Finally, we arrived in Boston. This is where the story gets messy and, no, not because Zeke had a mess. I walked for an hour to keep him quiet, I had been up since 4 am. I just wanted to be home and I had another flight to go--this time on a small plane. What if he yowled through this one too. But he seemed to have made friends in the terminal. One came over to meet him. How cute--my response, "you won't think he's cute if you have to sit next to him!"
Boarding call and I hand the gate attendant my boarding pass. Then she asks for the dog's boarding pass. Mind you, I had already flown in from Minnesota. No one had questioned the dog, nor given me a boarding pass. The result--pay $100. No, she didn't believe he was a future search dog. She was sorry but there was no way around it. The plane was leaving either pay or don't fly. Through all of this, Zeke was now at a full-blown SCREAM. If you haven't heard a Toller scream, imagine fingers on a chalkboard--magnified and loud. I was so mad and so trapped and so tired, I was in tears. After all, I had called the airline three times before I left to make sure that Zeke could fly for free in-cabin as a future SAR dog.
This time, he didn't even stop screaming even when we walked onto the plane. What if he screamed the whole way. We found our seat and guess who our seatmate was....
I stowed Zeke under the seat for take off and as soon as the plane pushed back from the gate, blessed silence. A half hour later....silence. He had never been that quiet since I had yanked him from his littermates. Was he still alive? Had the stress killed him? Was he getting enough air? Did I want to check on him? What if I woke him? What if he was dead? My seatmate and I looked at each other and I dove for the crate, put my hand in and....he lived, and he still never quivered. He didn't move until I got outside the airport in Bangor.
I hope when he's a certified dog and we fly again in-cabin, my experience is better then that!
No comments:
Post a Comment