The Show Must Go On

We get to Changi International Airport 2.5 hours ahead of departure time.  Everyone at the airport (Singaporean staff mind you) was super nice, polite and kind.  No one actually seemed to ever have experienced a dog traveling in- flight with a passenger, meaning that many are unsure about the protocol.  The flight is terribly full.  I am assigned a hideous seat.  KLM pulls a rabbit out of a hat and reassigns me.  Security smiles and smiles at Bruno.  Note- at all points, I don't bother putting him in his bag, and simply just walk him through.  It feels incredibly natural for me, walking with my dog, through Changi Airport halls.  I stay calm.  Burno stays calm.

All the paperwork required from ground staff at this point is the AVA export permit.  I am asked for this repeatedly.  

We board the plane.  I greet the passengers seated around me and ask if they mind a dog.  No one kicks up a fuss.  Everyone simply smiles at us.  There is a human baby on board making more noise than the slightly confused, un-sedated Bruno.  I keep Bruno on my lap.  He settles down to sleep.

Our luck runs out just as he falls asleep.  A flight attendant comes over and tells me that Bruno is not allowed on my lap.   Bruno has to be in his bag throughout the flight.  I reluctantly give Bruno the "inside" command.  He obliges.  He receives a treat.

During take-off, sudden air turbulences and during landing, Bruno is a superstar.  He stays calm.  Intermittently during the flight, Bruno whimpers, cries.  I bend over and console him.  Sometimes, I offer no solace.  Bruno gets upset, and attempts clawing his way out of the bag.

Twice during the flight, when others are fast asleep, I take Bruno to the bathroom, lay potty pads on the ground, let him out of his bag.  I feed him, give him some water.  Then I urge him back in.  Bruno does not potty both these times.  The second time, he refused to return to the bag at will.  I let him stay out longer, and then shove him in.

At all times, I keep my feet right next to the mash panel of his bag.  I try and stroke him with my feet.  Sometimes this soothes.  Sometimes it doesn't. 

The first tour I did with my dancers at the Melbourne Fringe Festival back in 1999, E punches me in the face, unintentionally, during the final athletic number.  I spend the next 5 minutes dancing full on with my nose bleeding, my eyesight blurry.

The show must go on, regardless.  At some point, the 13-hr flight will conclude.  All I can do is keep my energy calm, try and rest up if I can, and hope that by some process of osmosis, Bruno will also quit fighting confinement, and settle down to sleep.