at home in Chicago
You know, when you think about it, Dorothy had it pretty good in terms of transportation. She just had to chant, “There’s no place like home….” and click her heels together to get back home. I tried that in Oakland, but it didn’t work. Instead, I had to wait for a cab and sit patiently on two planes as I was transported back to Chicago. And I had to do it while managing an anxious, fluffy orange kitty named Cleo.
Getting Cleo into the cat carrier – a super cool mesh bag that I could sling across my shoulders – was no easy feat. I think there should be written instructions on those things indicating that it is a two human job. I managed to get her in the bag, but not without some cursing on my part and some yowling on her part. Without thinking it all the way through, I left Cleo in the carrier on the bed while I went into the living room to get something from my bag. The next thing I knew, I heard a thump and a very angry cat. She managed to scoot the bag off the edge of the bed, that silly cat! With only a few minutes to spare, we made it out to the front yard to wait for the cab that would take us to the airport.
Cleo meowed a lot on the drive to the airport, letting me know that she was not happy to be cooped up in her fancy new carrier. Either that or there was too much wind. I’m still learning to interpret. What I do know is that she picked up on my nervousness once we got to the airport and she piped down considerably. I kept hoping that the TSA rules had changed and I wouldn’t really have to take her out of the carrier to go through security. Surely they understand how difficult it is to wrangle a cat into one of these things. Maybe if I told them the story of how angry she got when she fell off the bed…. or that she’s retired from the feline KGB and doesn’t carry any weapons… It was no use. I made it to the security gate and the TSA employees told me I needed to remove Cleo from the carrier, hold her as I walked through the metal detector, and provide the attendant with my boarding pass. Oh, and that I should get her back in the carrier as soon as possible so she didn’t run away. Yeah, thanks for the advice.
When I opened the cat carrier, Cleo was curled into a small ball and gave me a look that said “Really?!? Are you really going to move me?” I took a deep breath and pulled her out of the carrier, put it on the conveyor belt, and stood in line to walk through the metal detector. Well, the guy in front of me was wearing a ton of jewelry and he had to walk through three times! A helpful travel hint: avoid annoying your fellow travelers and leave your heavy gold chains at home! OK, moving on. Cleo started to squirm which made me hold her tighter which made her squirm more. It was not an easy situation. Once we managed to get through the security gate, she was happy to crawl back into her bag of safety. Thank goodness!
The Angel Island Ferry
The rest of the trip was fairly drama-free. Cleo did not wail like a newborn, she did not bite like a toddler, and she did not disturb any of the other passengers on the plane. In fact, I don’t think my seat-mates even knew I had a cat with me until we landed and I pulled her up on my lap (in the carrier, of course). Cleo kept quiet on the cab ride home until I got a phone call and started talking. Then she gave me a little piece of her mind. That’s when I knew that everything would be ok.
Oh yeah, the trip to CA? It was fantastic. (see my Flickr photos for proof)
A Journey of Kilometers 