. . . I went to the airport. I’ve been going to the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport at least once a week since May as a member of the newly formed MSY K9 KREWE. For two hours each Thursday, I walk through the airport terminal and its concourses (with my human mommy at the other end of my leash) greeting passengers, employees, flight crews, and people waiting for arriving loved ones.
Today was a day made for airport therapy dogs: post-Christmas and pre-New Year travelers were slowed by a line of storms through the middle of the country. Ticket and gate agents, flight attendants and pilots, TSA officials and hospitality workers sometimes became the objects of their frustration. So I did my thing: I let everyone who wanted to pet me. I let them talk to me about anything other than delayed flights and crowded gates. And one by one, I made people smile. I made them relax. I made their travel experience–at least for a moment–a little more Golden.
I love being an airport therapy dog. I’ll share more of my experiences soon, but for now I’m off to bed. Making an entire airport smile today made me pretty sleepy. 🙂
Things were a little odd around my house a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t quite put my paw on it, but something was up. Mommy was spending a lot of time in the kitchen. At first she was making human food . . . not that interesting. And then she started making dog treats, which really got my attention.
She carefully packed all that human food and those yummy-smelling dog treats into this big red box. Wherever that big box was going, I wanted to go with it.
Then my travel crate appeared. I was definitely going somewhere . . . hopefully with that red box filled with dog treats.
My humans spent a lot of time studying this book. (Just for the record, my humans also looked at maps on the computer and on their phones. They’re not that old.) Hmmmm . . . why would my humans need to look at maps? Were we going somewhere new?
And then Mommy pulled out this little accessory. Could it really be true? Were we really going to the beach? Was I about to check an item off of my Golden Bucket List? I didn’t dare get my hopes up, but I must tell you that I was starting to get more than a little excited.
I was slightly less excited when, exactly one week before Thanksgiving, my humans gently nudged me prior to the break of dawn and whispered, “Miss Harper Lee, it’s time to wake up so we can start our excellent adventure.” It was still dark when we loaded my chariot. The chickens across the street weren’t even awake yet. That didn’t seem to bother my humans. We were off, and I was pretty happy that I have chauffeurs and I could get a little more sleep.
It seemed as if we had just pulled out of the driveway when my chariot stopped. My humans were oddly excited about something. “Wake up, Miss Harper Lee. We’re in Mississippi. You’ve never been to Mississippi before. Wake up so we can take a picture of you in front of the Welcome to Mississippi sign.” Naturally, I obliged. I knew from looking over my humans’ shoulders as they perused the road maps that Mississippi has beaches. Was this our destination? Apparently not, because after a few quick clicks of the camera and then several minutes of walking around while my humans said, over and over again, “Go potty, Miss Harper Lee. Go potty,” we were back in the chariot and back on the road.
Next stop: Alabama. Fortunately for me, the state welcome center was closed, so I got to sleep a few more miles before we reached the temporary welcome center. The nice welcome center lady invited me in, despite the fact that my daddy was wearing an LSU sweatshirt. Alabama and LSU are huge football rivals. I guess the welcome center lady was feeling charitable because Alabama beat LSU this year. Anyway, Mommy spotted this big mural and said, “Miss Harper Lee, sit here and practice your beach pose.” Yes! I knew I was going to the beach! I couldn’t help but smile as mommy snapped my picture. And then we got back into my chariot and continued to drive.
At our next stop, I saw this sign. I was in Florida . . . land of sun and sand. Miles and miles of beaches. When would I feel the sand between my toes? When would I frolic in the waves? Who else would be there? And just exactly where were we headed? Stay tuned . . .