Bluebell’s transatlantic adventure

Today we have a guest blog from Bluebell The Dog.


They leave me for 8 months while they swan off to Hong Kong, and then come back into my life last week. They tear me from a nice seaside town in Devon where everyone knows me and the butcher gives me a daily meaty snack and take me to a hot wet place in a big forest in The South of a place called America. Oh well, it’s a dog’s life.

What a day I had yesterday. After a weekend at a dog camp, I was bundled into a prison crate and taken to the nearby airport. There were hundreds of people to look at and lots of luggage to sniff at. One human didn’t seem to be at all pleased that I beat him at the game “Hide the Cocaine”, though there were some other humans dressed alike who appreciated my victory.

I had selected a window crate on the plane. A sexy poodle had told us what to do in the event of a crash landing (howl like mad) and where the exits were (outside the locked crate unfortunately). Trixie, the poodle hostess, then provided some dog snacks. She then said that somebody had ordered me a senior doggie meal. I don’t know how that mistake was made, but I hope it’s corrected for the second flight. NB it wasn’t because – “due to customer choice” – you have to pay for food and beverage on internal flights!).

The flight was long and the view faintly monotonous. The clouds looked good to start with, but once you’ve seen one inside of a pillow, you’ve seen them all. The on-board movies were good. I watched 101 Dalmatians, Beethoven and a classic Lassie movie. The last film reminded me that I probably should have told someone about that boy that I left down the mineshaft.

Changing at Chicago O’Hare airport was tough. The queues (sorry, lines) at immigration were long. A guard dog asked me what my reason for entering the USA were and whether I planned to bite the President’s dog. I then had to pick up my bowls and blankets from a baggage carousel (didn’t see any horses for the kids to ride on) and clear customs. They asked if I had been near livestock recently, but i didn’t tell them about chasing and eating those chickens the other day.

Of course, the connecting plane was in a different terminal. It was quite a long walk but I left my scent at every food joint along the way. The customers at Panda Express seemed to think it was a considerable improvement.

The Dog Lounge was excellent actually. As many snacks and drinks as you wanted, free whining and some space with other pedigree dogs away from all those mongrels, cats and guinea pigs.

With doggy passport and ticket in mouth, I then got on another flight to a place called Atlanta in Georgia. It turns out that I’m collecting frequent flier miles which can be redeemed for free flights in the future. This confused me; people actually choose to fly on these planes?

After hours of delay at 1am, he finally picks me up from Cargo, a kind of reception centre for VIPs. He’s got a new car with a sliding side door. I got a great view between the two front seats out of the front window. Atlanta appears to be mainly trees and neon.

The house they have is in the middle of a forest and is quite scary. There are lots of noises outside that I have never heard of before. On the positive side, they have a river at the bottom of their garden (sorry, yard).



3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Lisa Dunn on August 7, 2012 at 5:05 pm

    Welcome Bluebell to the USA! Your Ohio cousins say HI


  2. Posted by Melville on August 7, 2012 at 10:42 pm

    Bluebell you must not be taken in by the “everything is bigger in the US of A” yarn – that is not a river at the back of the yard. Even the Lemon is deeper. It’s a little stream no deeper than the rain that runs down our road. Dog up and find a real river with some depth.


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