Travel Arrangements-Part 2

Earlier I shared that it had taken me the better part of two days to get ready to leave town. I can pack quickly once I know the weather forecast, so my trip preparation has everything to do with getting Lou Lou ready.

I would have made an excellent Boy Scout because I believe in being prepared. No one who has ever traveled with me has complained about being with the person who always has Immodium when you really need it. I try to apply the same game plan when we leave Lou Lou at home.

The first task is Auntie prep, which means getting Lou Lou’s instruction packet together. Operating under the theory that information is king, I place her four pages of typed directions in a folder. These directions attempt to cover every contingency in addition to our flight and hotel information. Also in the folder are maps and directions to her regular vet and the emergency vet. I even go as far as to include annotated photos for particularly complex things such as when she has to wear her face cage. Add Starbucks cards (alert babysitters perform better in emergencies, I think), a blank signed check and a emergency credit card, and the Aunties are ready for almost anything short of nuclear war or an Ebola pandemic.

The next area of focus is making sure Lou Lou looks and smells presentable. I try to give her the whole spa routine, but this time we had to make do with the canine version of a PTA (pits, tits and ass) shower. Nails, ears, the Furminator and baby wipes. Presentable in a pinch. My biggest fear is that the Aunties will have a crazy emergency and have to take her to the vet. I’m not worried about an emergency that would entail a visit to her regular vet because Dr. C knows she is an extremely well cared for dog. No, I worry about the emergency that would have the Aunties taking her to the emergency vet who doesn’t know us from Adams’s house cat. I would die if someone were to look at her and think she had slatternly parents because she was stinky and in need of a good brushing and a nail trim. It’s like putting on clean underwear when you leave the house. Everyone knows that clean underwear magically protect you from being in an accident. Only people who wear dirty drawers end up in the emergency room with a bunch of nurses tut-tutting over your poor choice in foundation garments.

Invariably, at some point we have to put clothes in a container in order to take them with us. This is where Suitcase Syndrome enters the picture.  From the Suitcase Syndrome-A Killer Hiding in Your Closet website–“Suitcase Syndrome is a terrible malady that strikes 103.78% of dogs at some point in their lifetime. Symptoms such as lethargy, extreme and frequent sighing, loss of appetite and attitude throwing can mimic other, less fatal diseases. Know the signs of Suitcase Syndrome and seek treatment immediately. Most dogs recover after one or two ball-throwing sessions, but sometimes treatment needs to be repeated. Please help us find a cure, before it’s too late.”

Lou Lou suffers from Suitcase Syndrome

Lou Lou first began to experience Suitcase Syndrome when John began to travel a lot for work. Back then, John would put his suitcase on the bed and pack the night before a trip. She quickly figured out that the box on wheels made Daddy go away, so the box on wheels became the evil trigger. Even after we tried to pack at the last moment in the office and leave the suitcases there, she still figured it out. She has honed her skills over the years and works a guilt trip like she’s channeling Joan Crawford channeling a nun channeling my friend S’s Bubbe.

This trip had us leaving on Friday, so the attitude ramp up began Tuesday. Just as the creative juices began to flow, from underneath my desk emanated deep, long, sad sighs that soon began to come at an even clip, accompanied by faint whines on the finish. In order to get any work done, we decamped for the bed with the laptop so she could lie halfway on top of me while I tried to type around 55 pounds of dog.

She’s always been a Velcro dog, but becomes an iron-on patch dog when she know’s were leaving. My guilt gets the best of me, so in addition to spoiling her with time and attention, I also spoil her with goodies; she somehow ended up with 3 new toys and a marrow bone. It makes me feel a bit better, despite the pitiful face she puts on when we kiss her goodbye.