Airline travel for us miniature poodles is a spaced-out, smelly and very
constricted experience, stuffed in a breakout-safe “doggy-bag” under the airline seat in front of mom, only inches away from smelly feet odors coming the from the passenger under who’s seat I am forced be for the next 11 hours. Even worse is that there is no food or service on the trip, not even a bathroom visit is allowed for us poodles. Isn’t that discrimination or what!

The trip usually starts with eating two of mom’s irresistible home made but “make-me-drowsy” cheese-balls right before we board the plane. Not sure what is in them, they taste just great but they sure make me sleepy! So sleepy that for the next 7 or 8 hours I am all spaced-out, no need for a movie with those kind of dreams! The next few hours I am slowly waking up from my drug induced sleep and I am feeling an increasing need to go to the bathroom. Final two hours I am trying to make different type of sounds in order to make mom and dad (and everyone else in my section of the cabin) aware of the situation; I really have to go, NOW! Right after landing, an accident is close to happen. It is now a matter of minutes! Either dad will have to carry an accident-dripping 'doggy-bag' through customs or he better reach outside of the terminal carrying me in ithe "doggy-bag" in record time! This time reach we reach the outside just before I bust. I crawl out of the bag, briefly stretching my neck, my nose pointing up in the air, trying to get my nose in shape to smell something else than the smelly feet on the plane, it is not always a blessing to pick up sents 100 times better than humans! I start pulling dad in the leach towards the closest lamppost or at least vertical standing object (you can’t be picky in this situation), really any object looking like it could use a fare share of humidity is my target right now. In just seconds I reach the closest lamppost, my highest priority is relief, and finally, with one leg high in the air, a miniature version of Niagara Falls is in making! After a minute or so it is over, the yellow stream is slowly making its way towards the closes sewer. I will just need one more stop now (requiering dad to take out one of his plastic bags) and I am ready to go inside the terminal for the last leg of the trip. I wonder if mom brought any more of those
cheese-balls…..

What can be more wonderful after an exhausting day, filled of exciting moments such as my morning run with dad (imagining I am on an expedition hunting for prey) and the obligatory once a day frantic barking at the mailman, than to happily crawl through the perfectly sized opening into my cozy and wonderfully crafted (sorry, should be…willfully copied…) mass-produced plastic crate, imported from China? It is in my mind the most beautiful creation of two molded gray plastic halves with screws on the sides to hold the two halves together, much like two gigantic shoeboxes where one is put upside down on top of the other and glued together in the middle with an opening cut out in one of the short ends. 

The crate gives a bachelor male poodle like me a private hideaway and penthouse with a sturdy roof over my head. Inside the crate there is plenty of room for me and my most precious must have dog toys, such my favorite chewy bone and the essential breath refreshing gum sanitizer. I have a cozy and soft wool pad on the floor to keep me warm when resting. However, mom wrapped the pad in a scratch resistant fleece blanket because I always carefully prepare myself for resting by walking in a circle inside the crate pushing down and scratching away the (imaginary) tall grass that are in the way of having a restful nights sleep and I got through two of the wool pads before mom had the idea of wrapping the pad in the fleece blanket. Now I can scratch as much as I want and no real damage occurs (just shredding a few blankets a year but they are much cheaper than the pads says mom). 

My crate is also my dear travel companion. Wherever I go with mom and dad I have to bring my crate, it is like bringing a peace of safety with me. Nothing can happen to me in the protection of my crate. However, I once traveled for a day without my crate (the airline temporarily lost it) and I will never do that again! I cried all night because I could not find rest when I did not know if my crate was safe. Next time I will be inside the crate all the time. If it gets lost I will at least be where my crate is! I am also in the crate (belted in the backset) when driving with mom and dad. I heard that child seats have to have a child safety rating. I am pretty sure my crate has that rating too but it is poodle safety rated. I think it says it is safe for poodles up to 10 pounds... 

Well it is almost naptime I will end this blog now and waddle down to my crate, push down the “grass” by wondering in a circle for a minute or so as usual, scratch my pad a little, settle down and get to sleep on my back with my legs in the air in resting position, as always! Nighty nighty!