The Covert Art Of Sneaking Your Dog Aboard

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Commentator Bob Morris is ready to break the law when it comes to traveling with his dog.


Finally, we pose this fundamental question for the busiest travel time of the year: Do you ever wonder what your seatmate on the plane has in his carry-on bag? Commentator Bob Morris says "don't ask, don't tell" may be the best policy.

BOB MORRIS, BYLINE: Pardon the interruption, but I think I should explain. You see, my dog - Zoloft - here, is built to travel. She's an affectionate, long-haired miniature dachshund the size of a baguette. The problem is that some places don't allow dogs. But why should that stop me?

The Alamo - snuck her in. National Zoo - ditto. She never bites, and she's hypoallergenic. And all she wants to do, is love. Can you say that about most people you know?

When I travel between New York and D.C., Zoloft comes along in a black, Chanel knockoff from a Manhattan pet boutique. It's impossible to see her inside; and that's key because bus lines and Amtrak don't allow pets. So you see, they leave me no choice. What can I do but ignore the rules? And if a driver or a conductor objects, I have a psychiatrist's letter. It says I'm agoraphobic, and my dog's a therapy pet. It doesn't say anything about me being delusional and myopic - or incredibly, pathologically narcissistic, for that matter; but that's another story.

It's not always easy. I snuck Zoloft on a flight back to D.C., rather than pay an extra 150 bucks for the privilege. I mean, babies sit on laps for free - why not dogs under seats? Nobody noticed her at check-in; and we walked her through security without even having to show a doggie boarding pass - although, you know, the truth is, if she had gotten frisked, she probably would've enjoyed the pat-down.

For once, I was grateful to be seated in the back of the plane; and that a flight attendant kept blathering on and on, in the PA system. The squeaking and whimpering was so intense that nearby passengers were looking around, wondering what they were hearing. And I was sure we'd get caught. Maybe I should have given her a doggie Valium; or maybe I should have taken one myself. Thankfully, she was quiet by the time the drink cart came by.

Look, I know I am - at best - a bad example. But if you see a dignified man traveling over the holidays with a little, black Chanel shoulder bag that whimpers, please don't growl. Take pity. I'm a victim of a very insistent love. And that means I have to victimize you a little, too. Thank you.


CORNISH: That was writer Bob Morris, frequent contributor to the New York Times, and author of "Assisted Loving: True Tales Of Double Dating With My Dad."


CORNISH: You're listening to ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, from NPR News.

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