Thanks for worrying about me

Traveling to and from California is not easy. I was in the cabin with my mom. The Piccolo had to travel in thew cargo section.

It was a tough decision for our mom, Brunsli's mom. In the end, she decided that it was better for us to have a rough trip than leave us at doggy camp, which is a cage at the vet's office where we get to go outside 3x a day for a couple weeks.

One person can travel with two dogs on some airlines, but the Piccolo and I are, umm, too plumpy to share an on-board travel carrier.

One person can not buy two human airplane seats and put two pets underneath. This makes no sense to me or to my mom, but that's the rule.

The only way that the Piccolo and I could come to California was then to have one of us in the cabin, and one in the cargo. Mom told the Piccolo that he had to go in cargo because I am deaf, blind, and diabetic, but we all know it's because the Piccolo barks too much.

The trip out was a bit crazy -- it took so long to check the Piccolo in that Mom & I missed the flight. Chicco's dad had to pick up the Piccolo and later in the day Chicco's mom picked us up. The trip back was less eventful, if you don't count the fact that we couldn't fly on our designated day because our health certificates expired -- a penalty for overstaying our welcome in California perhaps? Th next day, Mom, the Piccolo and I made it home safely.