Contrary to my expectations, flying to Dunedin yesterday with a crate full of dog turned out to be a complex logistical equation. The ticket specified we be there an hour and a half before the flight – in fact, before the Pacific Blue staff even showed up.
A passerby, watching me coax Jed into his crate, said, “Glad I’m not a dog. Wouldn’t want to be cooped up in there.”
I felt like saying, ‘Yeah, and I exhaust him with long walks and he has to sprawl out on a beanbag to recuperate and only gets fed four times a day and has to chase sticks repeatedly.’
Instead, I planted some drugs in his suitcase when he wasn’t looking.
The Jedster entered his transportation without protest (the pig’s ear again). In fact, there wasn’t a whimper out of him, even when a Pacific Blue assistant dropped him and his crate off the trolley.
In Dunedin, I hurried out to baggage reclaim and looked around to see where The Jedster would be delivered. It was difficult to see with the hordes milling around the conveyor belt.
Then, across the far side of baggage reclaim, I heard an unmistakeable and compelling call, a cross between a bark and a howl:-
Jed had spotted me first; but I guarantee it was the first sound he made since Auckland