Last week I concluded a column about a trip to Florida this way: “Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly purrrr-fect.”
Let me explain. My dear ol’ mom recently turned 92 years old. Since my dad died, she’s been living alone and has been pretty much taking care of herself. My sister is a retired nurse and spends the winters in Florida. Just after the holidays, my sister flew to Connecticut to visit Mom for a week.
Well, soon after, my sister explained that in her professional medical opinion, Mom no longer is strong enough to live alone anymore. Oh boy, I’ve been dreading this day. But then my sister volunteered to move in with my mother and take care of her for the foreseeable future. Whoa, somebody just moved up to the top of the polls in the Saint of the Year competition.
Let me explain. My dear ol’ mom recently turned 92 years old. Since my dad died, she’s been living alone and has been pretty much taking care of herself. My sister is a retired nurse and spends the winters in Florida. Just after the holidays, my sister flew to Connecticut to visit Mom for a week.
Well, soon after, my sister explained that in her professional medical opinion, Mom no longer is strong enough to live alone anymore. Oh boy, I’ve been dreading this day. But then my sister volunteered to move in with my mother and take care of her for the foreseeable future. Whoa, somebody just moved up to the top of the polls in the Saint of the Year competition.
However, there was one small issue. Actually, two. My sister arranged for a neighbor in Florida to come over and feed her two cats for a week. Now she couldn’t possibly impose on the neighbor to watch the cats indefinitely. So, the cats needed to travel to Connecticut and move in with Mom, too. That’s where yours truly enters the picture.
I was asked to go on a mission of mercy with my brother-in-law. The two of us needed to fly to Florida on a Friday evening, get the cats, and bring them home on Sunday. (What did we do in Florida on Saturday, you ask? Well, it was 75 degrees and sunny, while it was 10 degrees and cloudy in Conn. Also, their house is on a golf course. You do the math.)
The two cats are a beautiful breed, Devon Rex. But they’re very feisty and skittish. (In the same way that a chipmunk on amphetamines is skittish, except the cats are quicker.)
I was asked to go on a mission of mercy with my brother-in-law. The two of us needed to fly to Florida on a Friday evening, get the cats, and bring them home on Sunday. (What did we do in Florida on Saturday, you ask? Well, it was 75 degrees and sunny, while it was 10 degrees and cloudy in Conn. Also, their house is on a golf course. You do the math.)
The two cats are a beautiful breed, Devon Rex. But they’re very feisty and skittish. (In the same way that a chipmunk on amphetamines is skittish, except the cats are quicker.)
The cats traveled in separate pet carriers, which are like gym bags with a mesh side so the cats can breathe and look out to see who is inflicting all this torture. When you go through airport security, you have to take the cat out of the carrier and hold it while the carrier goes through the X-ray machine. I have no idea why they can’t scan the carrier with the cat inside, but that’s the rule.
My greatest fear, which had been weighing on me for three full days, was that the feisty cat would wriggle free from my grasp, after inflicting a few painful scratches, of course, and then sprint down an airport hallway never to be seen again.
Thankfully, I made it through security without losing the cat, although it’s unclear who experienced greater anxiety during the ordeal, the cat or me.
So, as I mentioned last week, the small, start-up airline we used had no mechanics or spare parts of its own, and when our plane was in need of a new tire, we sat there waiting for four hours. They finally cancelled the flight and told us to come back the next day and try again. At least my brother-in-law and I had a house to go back to. Many passengers on that flight had already checked out of their hotels.
As we left the airport, it suddenly dawned on me: Oh Lord, we have to do the security thing all over again tomorrow!
My greatest fear, which had been weighing on me for three full days, was that the feisty cat would wriggle free from my grasp, after inflicting a few painful scratches, of course, and then sprint down an airport hallway never to be seen again.
Thankfully, I made it through security without losing the cat, although it’s unclear who experienced greater anxiety during the ordeal, the cat or me.
So, as I mentioned last week, the small, start-up airline we used had no mechanics or spare parts of its own, and when our plane was in need of a new tire, we sat there waiting for four hours. They finally cancelled the flight and told us to come back the next day and try again. At least my brother-in-law and I had a house to go back to. Many passengers on that flight had already checked out of their hotels.
As we left the airport, it suddenly dawned on me: Oh Lord, we have to do the security thing all over again tomorrow!
I’m happy to report that things went fairly smoothly the next day, too. The cats made it to Connecticut in one piece — although everyone involved suffered significant emotional trauma.
The idea of a small airline flying non-stop each day from New Haven to Florida still strikes me as terrific. And I’ll fly with them again if they invest in some spare tires. But next time, without cats!
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