Running to the airport in a hurry, followed by misshapen shadows of turtles, hovering bags that will hold our home for a couple of weeks, Maxwell and I head for our flight to Anchorage. We haven’t flown since 2015, or since the Trump presidency befell, so we are both excited and a little anxious. Max was searched, left his belt on, and it left his shaking, with a cool face. He was all cleared, and eventually relaxed with a Skittles purchase.
Sherlock’s plan while we are away has some loose ends so I am trying to tap them out on my phone, to make sure everyone is in place. I will later find that the paperwork I submitted to Sherlock’s boarding joint had an overdue vaccination. The vet and I tried to connect before my trip, but I was super, impossibly swamped and couldn’t escape work. Papers were accepted and reservation was made, so I thought we were ok, since Puppah has the physique of a Max. There was a scramble among friends and dear family late in the game, while Max and I were in Bear Country and without service, and my puppy was loved and saved. At this point, I think all is well, but I am overwhelmed with gratitude and feeling really sappy. I’m so appreciative of all of my loved ones, and of Sherlock’s fans and guardian angels. Thank you.
Max and I boarded a plane and let ourselves feel that free rush. We both love to take off.
