DENVER -- June 18, 2009

I'm becoming quite the travel hound. I went to Chicago (well, really Evanston) last weekend to visit Cate and Jack. They are family friends who usually come to Colorado in the summer to visit us, but this year we went to see them, which was fine by me. I like traveling!

We left Friday morning, so I had to miss breakfast again. GRRRRRRRR. We checked in at the airport but the agent told Marianne she'd have to get her boarding pass at the gate, which seemed puzzling. We breezed through security; I'm getting the hang of it now, and everyone complimented me!

We waited and waited and waited at the gate for Marianne's name to be called until it seemed like we were the only ones left. I was happy to nap while we waited, but Marianne was getting anxious, so she dragged me up to the desk with her. When the agent noticed me she said "OH!" and started tapping away on her computer. She handed Marianne a boarding pass and patted me on the head. The other agent looked at the pass and started to say something, but the first agent pointed at me and said "She has a service dog." Marianne thanked them and we galloped on to the plane, nearly the last ones to board.

Marianne made me sit by her seat while she put her suitcase in the overhead bin and got situated. "Wow," I said as I settled by her feet, "this is a bit of all right! There's lots of room on this plane. It's way better than the one I took last week with John. I can really stretch out and be comfortable! And your seat looks cushier than John's did."

Marianne made frantic shushing noises at me. "What?" I asked, confused. She looked around furtively and whispered, "We've been upgraded to business class, and I don't want to make a big fuss. I'm sure there are people in coach who asked for this seat!"

"You mean we got this seat because of me?" I asked, pleased. "Finally, the recognition I deserve!"

"Don't get too full of yourself," Marianne warned. "This is the first time this has ever happened in all the times I've flown with a CCI puppy, so let's just enjoy it quietly, shall we?" I shrugged and settled in for a nice long nap. Flying goes much faster when you're comfortable, I discovered.

Cate and Jack picked us up at the airport and we went out for lunch. Marianne gave me my breakfast while they waited for their food. Afterwards we drove home, but this house was very different from any I've been in before. They live in a tall building that is across the street from Lake Michigan. The building has three homes in it, one on each floor. Cate and Jack have the entire second floor. There was lots of room for me to chase my toys and demonstrate my retrieving skills. There was no fenced yard like we have at home, but there was a lovely grassy area outside by the lake. I asked to go outside to HURRY several times just because I liked the scenery so much! Plus, there were lots of other dogs walking past so I made several new friends.

Cate is recuperating from hip replacement surgery, which is why we went to see her. Marianne gave me a stern lecture before we arrived. "Ross, you must be very careful not to knock Cate over, or gallop past her on the stairs," she said.

"I am horrified that you would think I would do either of those things!" I protested. "HELLO, HELPER DOG HERE!"

Marianne sighed. "Yes, but sometimes you are a Large and Bouncy Animal like Tigger, so just be careful, OK?"

"Fine, “I grumbled, "But I want it understood that I'm insulted."

"Duly noted," said Marianne. "Perhaps you can show Cate and Jack some of the commands you're learning."

Cate and Jack were impressed with my mastery of DOWN, SIT, SHAKE, HEEL and most importantly LAP, which I demonstrated many times during the course of the weekend. Cate said I was a Very Good Boy, and Jack gave me lots of ear scratches. We went shopping (ugh), out to eat (boring), church in the park (fun) and a couple of walks. Speaking of walks, I was stunned to see a big sign by the entrance to the beach saying NO DOGS OR CATS ALLOWED.

"Really?" I said to Marianne. "People bring cats to the beach?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "It doesn't seem likely."

"I understand why CATS aren't allowed on the beach, sand boxes and all that, but why not dogs?" I asked.

"Not everyone loves dogs," Marianne reminded me, "And not all dogs are well-behaved. I think there's a special beach for dogs, but I don't think we'll have time to find it."

Sadly, that proved to be the case as the weekend flew past and it was time to go home too soon. Once again I had to skip breakfast, a "necessary precaution" I still don't favor. Marianne checked us in at a kiosk at the airport, but she groaned when she looked at the boarding pass.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "We're sitting in an aisle seat in the last row!" she exclaimed. "That won't work; there's not enough room for you and airline personnel don't like service dogs in the aisle seats for safety reasons. We'll have to change it at the gate."

Once again we had to wait in line at the gate, but this time neither agent smiled at me or patted my head. They told Marianne there was plenty of room and no reason I couldn't be by an aisle seat. Marianne raised an eyebrow and said "Are you sure?" Both agents assured her it would be fine. I could tell Marianne didn't agree, but she didn't say anything else. Once we got on the plane I understood why she wanted to change the seat.

"Good grief," I said, "There's not enough room for my fleece bone in that tiny space, much less me!"

"I know, but let's wait and see. Tuck in as best you can and maybe the others in this row won't show up," Marianne said hopefully.

"Why did we get more room last time but not this time?" I asked. "It's the same airline." Marianne shrugged. "Luck of the draw," she said. "It just depends on who is on duty. Some agents tell us we have to sit in bulkhead, others tell us we can sit by the window but not the aisle, others tell us we can sit on the aisle. You never know what the rules will be." "Seems goofy," I grumbled as I tried to get comfortable.

Just as I was dozing off, a fellow appeared and pointed at the window seat. "That's mine," he said.

"Would you mind trading with me?" asked Marianne. "I have a service dog in training and there's more room for him under that seat." The fellow readily agreed, so Marianne moved to the window seat and I tried to curl up as small as possible. The fellow patted me and told us he was getting a Golden Retriever puppy named Shakespeare later in the week. He even showed Marianne a photo.

I was sound asleep when someone stepped on my ear. It was the person assigned to the middle seat, and she clearly didn't like dogs, especially dogs on airplanes, and most especially dogs on airplanes in her row. Marianne apologized and poked at me to make myself smaller.

"I miss business class," I whimpered. "Me, too," whispered Marianne, "but try to make the best of it." I put myself into the Sleeping Zen Dog mode for the duration of the flight. I woke up when the plane landed, but stayed curled up so as not to disturb our seatmate. She surprised me by tentatively patting my head and commenting to Marianne, "He was really good, wasn't he?" Darned right I was.

It took me a few minutes to work out the kinks once we got off the plane, but the walk to the car helped. Once we got home I got my breakfast and a romp with Meryl and Mina. Home again!

And the next time we fly I'm definitely going to find the agent who will upgrade me to business class.

Chow for now!

Ross

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