We made it all the way from the city that rhymes with fun to the city that smells like it. Vicki and I loaded onto the plane at 4pm and started our trek west.
Vicki loved the airport. There were new sites and sounds and people to adore her and children to growl at. Everyone oohed and aahed over her. She was in her glory. Of course, our plane was late and her drugs wore off before we even got on the plane.
At the boarding call for our first flight, I tried to get Vicki into the carrier I had purchased. I had tried once before to put her in so she would be prepared for the trip. She hated it, so I decided not to traumatize her until the plane ride. So -- smart person that I am -- I am standing in the middle of the airport trying to shove a dog into a small bag. At first I thought I could coax her. Not so much. Then I shoved. She put her little paws on either side of the carrier and strained for all she was worth.
Another passenger took pity on me and helped. I put Vicki's leash on her and threaded it through the bag. The lady pulled the leash as I shoved Vicki's bum. Finally, I just tipped the carrier on one end and dumped Vicki in there. There is a time and place for finesse and patience. That wasn't the time for either.
We made it onto the plane with little problem. I thought "This will be a piece of cake." And then they started the engines. Vicki peed. She then tried to scratch her way to freedom through the mesh of the bag. By the time we took off, she had three good holes made in the bag. I spent the entire flight bent over at the waist with my hand in the bag alternately soothing her and pushing her paws away from doing any more damage. This is when the man in front of me decided to lean his chair back all the way.
We stopped in Edmonton for 30 mins. I took Vicki out of the carrier for a bit and then went through the same process to get her back in. I gave her another dose of meds (praying I wouldn't overdose her) and went back on the same plane we had just left. Once again, takeoff scared 3 years off Vicki's life. But she did marginally better for that trip.
The lady sitting next to me realized I had a dog with me and took the carrier onto the seat beside her. She then unzipped it and spent the rest of the flight giving Vicki kisses and saying "I wish I had known you were giving her away!! I would have taken her." Um, lady... we just met. The crew gave us a little bit of grief for having Vicki out, so I put her back on the floor and the lady spent the rest of the flight in the same position I had been in for the first flight.
While we were in the air, they announced we were going to have yet another stop over. They felt they did not need to tell us this prior to the flight as most of us wouldn't be getting off the plane. So, my little flight with my jumpy dog turned from one stop to 3!! Had I known I would not have picked that flight.
The third flight was a lot less problematic. A guy who looked just like David Crosby sat next to me and made small talk while Vicki slept. The meds had finally kicked in and she was stoned as a hippy. We made jokes she needed Doritos. Eventually we landed. Vicki was alive and the carrier was all in one piece. Also, we determined that the dog can pee at least three times in the carrier without it smelling until after you take the dog out. This is important information.
Vicki's eyes finally cleared from the meds about 7 hours later. She is here in her new home and enjoying it. Although, the cat from upstairs came to visit (at the window) and Vicki made her unhappiness known. She is currently on cat watch and shaking.