A week ago I was that lady carrying her cat around the neighborhood in a backpack. No, not because I am that crazy cat lady (though I would have done it more often if my cat actually seemed to enjoy it), but because we were about to go on an even bigger adventure. I wanted her to feel as best prepared as she could be. And I wanted to be as best prepared as I could be. Carrying one backpack full of stuff and another backpack full of a panicked cat through the hustle and bustle of international airports was not necessarily something I was excited to do. But due to life circumstances, it was something that had to be done.
So with months of preparation, off we went. From sunny SoCal, headed towards the dry tropical forests of Costa Rica. This was something that was supposed to be exciting but my heart hurt for her, not wanting to take her away from her comforts and connections from her California home. A reflection of my own I suppose. I was comfortable in California. But I needed to grow. And her original owner was in Costa Rica awaiting her arrival.
Forcing her into the carrier pained me. I felt we were fighting each other and I felt we were both loosing. She cried. I cried. She didn’t want to go in there. I didn’t want her in there. But I forced it to happen, extending the sides of the carrier open with my sympathy for the car ride away from all things familiar.
As soon as we arrived at the airport, all eyes would gravitate towards her with curiosity.
“You’re going to get lots of attention baby girl.”
Anything to keep my voice to her ears.
To the check in desk, and a part of me hoped they would say her carrier wasn’t right and that she could not go on the plane (despite my thorough research). But no-one stopped her. And no one was stopping me from taking her. They searched all my paperwork and documentation, and with my regret, it was all there.
On to security, her right at my belly and I would hear people say, “Oh look there’s a kitty in there!”
She was curled up so tightly in her little pack, clearly frightened by the scene. We requested a private room for her to wait in as they ran the carrier through the security scanner. The room was lifeless: white walls, a single light hanging over head, a metal table with security buckets left on top. Not the most welcoming space. But I suppose this was space for when they meant business. Or for when there was a scared cat and her troubled “owner” trying to get through airport security. When the officer returned with her little backpack, she happily climbed right back in.
“Thank you baby girl,” I say with a breath of relief, “and thank you” I say to the officer.
In the most stern voice he replies, “Sure, but don’t call me baby girl.” A light smile came from the corner of his serious face.
I laughed to myself thankful for his lightening of the mood, packed everything up, and headed to find our gate.
Time was passing, the plane was boarding, we settled, her right at my feet. Before we took flight, I reached my hand into her carrier to give a couple comfort rubs to her ears. I overheard an, “Ah she has her emotional support pet with her.” I laughed to myself. I wasn’t sure who was supporting who here. We had each other. In that moment, I was wanting to give her support but in return I suppose I was the one receiving the support. She was making me feel at home. She was making me feel safe. Her on the other hand, I may never know what was going through her thoughts during all those moments. But I felt that as long as her and I were together, all would be ok. Everything would be okay.
We landed. She cried. I cried.
All will be okay. As long as we are together. And we are together for now.
click here for information on traveling with an in-cabin pet
