The Covert Art Of Sneaking Your Dog Aboard
AUDIE CORNISH, HOST:
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.
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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."
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CORNISH: You're listening to ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, from NPR News.
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