It was with some trepidation and a few sniffles that I sent my beloved dog overseas today. She was fine, I was the mess. Her biggest concern was the fact that I packed up all her precious toys. While I was trying to hug her goodbye and, you know, bond, she was more interested in trying to get at the Pick 'n Pay packet carrying the precioussssesss. I will always have a vision of me sitting on the couch trying to tell her how I love her and how I'll miss her and her standing on the couch, front paws balanced on the back, trying to reach the table with her teeth, thinking: "Yes, yes, whatever. Now shut up and use those opposable thumbs."
The guy who came to pick her up was so kind, like he's used to overwrought owners plotting out worst case scenarios (I don' t accept his assertion, however, that doggy parachutes are illogical and expensive). The parting was short and sweet. She climbed into her crate with nary a whimper and just looked at me with her big trusting labrador eyes (drugged probably, rescue remedy will do that).
And then she was gone, her toys taped to the top of her crate, along with a sticker saying "One live labrador dog" - thank you SAA, I would like her to arrive like that.
PATTOTE - better living through little black dogs with very little brain.