Part 1: Travelin’ Weenies – The Colorado Experiment

Learning to Fly

Packing for our two-week trip to Colorado took more time than I’d allotted—in part because a certain stealthy poodle kept removing items from my suitcase whenever I turned my back—so we didn’t get to bed until after midnight the day of our departure. I’d optimistically hoped my choice of a gentle wake up alarm might make the lack of sleep less agonizing. Turns out, “babbling brook” sounds a lot like “flushing toilet” at 3:45 a.m. And who could have predicted my iPhone’s back-up alarm, set to the sound of crickets, would sound more like music from the shower scene in “Psycho” than a chorus of insects? On the bright side, the ensuing jolt of adrenaline made for an efficient tumble out of bed.

This was the Weenie family’s first time traveling with their dog, Dexter. Actually, it was the first time we’d ever traveled with a pet at all, unless you count my mastiff-sized carryon bag. (More on that later.) You would have thought we were headed to the Westminster dog show, what with the way we prepared for this scrawny six pound poodle.

Dexter had everything from a canine ski jacket the size of a bedroom slipper, to his medical records and baby Xanax. Replace the Xanax with Benadryl, and you’d think we had a toddler on our hands. His ticket cost as much as ours, yet he had to ride under the seat in front of us. At least they didn’t make him go through the conveyor belt x-ray machine. I can’t imagine TSA officials taking too kindly to a little poodle skeleton showing up on their video monitors.

Contrary to my expectation of absolute chaos, Dexter was so mellow in his tricked out carry case that I was afraid a dose of anti-anxiety medication might render him completely unconscious or possibly even dead. In order to prevent a pall from forming over our vacation as only an unintentionally euthanized pet can do, it was decided that I would take the Xanax and Dexter would monitor the drink cart.