April 1st, Becky and I found ourselves sitting in a hotel room looking out at the New York skyline, anxiously tracking Jackson’s progress through the blue skies over the Atlantic. Due to arrive at 1pm we’d been updated by PetAir (often with accompanying photos) each time he took another step forward – arriving at Windsor, vet checks completed, heading to the airport for check-in, on-time flight departure and then all we needed to do was follow the flight and meet two hours or so after he arrived at JFK and once he’d cleared customs. Ten minutes from the hotel and we were in place. Where was the agent? Time passed slowly. Nails were chewed to the quick.
And then he was here.
On the front of a forklift truck at the American Airlines Cargo building. And wagging furiously – a good sign. We’d finally tracked down the agent, or rather he found us by phone, and been waiting a short while at American, leash in hand and treats at the ready. As it turned out he hadn’t travelled alone, either – a 5 month old dachsund appeared first to be reunited with his owner (“Your baby flew with my baby!”). The only difference was the fact that this little fella was making a return trip in 5 months time. Well, that and his diminutive stature…. And the fact his crate would easily fit on a single car seat. As soon as Jackson was brought out, and released from the crate, it was abundantly clear he’d travelled fine, and with no ‘accidents’ – in fact he’d probably slept most of the way. But I’ve never seen a dog spend so long on 3 legs at the first tree he could find. Probably ten hours’ worth of pee had been held in admirably, and he’d be so much more comfortable for the next phase of the journey to Philipsburg, PA.
A bit of rearranging, having decided he’d want company for the next 5 hours or more in the car rather than be on his own again, and we had luggage in the boot or riding shotgun, bedding on the back seat and me right alongside him. He deserved that privilege at least. Within minutes he had his chin on my lap and seemed to have forgiven me for leaving him in the kennel and then in the belly of a flying beast. The car was much more comfortable, having left the wood-and-wire crate behind, but the journey was far from over. New York commuter traffic didn’t help, adding a good couple of hours to the ETA and putting our plans initially on hold, then out of the window. Hours of delicate planning as to how we’d introduce him (and me) to Jackson’s new pack.
By the time we arrived at the house in the pitch black late evening, driving through a rain storm to help matters, we’d abandoned the idea of staged 1:1 introductions, and opted for canine speed-dating. Jackson and I went for another pee in the garden – actually I was able to hold back despite my advancing age – then I brought him in for on-leash introductions. First the black and grey Great Dane, Mars, who it seems had never seen a labrador up close, and didn’t seem keen to do so again. Like the farmer’s wife in a nursery rhyme he was up on the furniture (quite a spectacular sight) trying to distance himself from the new arrival. Then curiosity got the better of him and a wary sniff or two brought him down from the sofa bearing wags and more positive noises.
Then came the German shepherds, one by one. Luna the young matriarch first. If she accepted him, then her older more fun-loving brother would be fine. Amazingly she had a few sniffs at the full stretch of the leash, and she was wagging away. Positive vibes indeed. Then Vulcan, keeper of the toys and protector of the food bowls. His eyes almost lit up when he met Jackson – someone new to taunt with a frisbee he thought, maybe someone slow to eat and quick to share his kibble. He’d find out soon enough that here was a quick eater, a sneaky stealer worthy of his crown, and a demon on the frisbee field. But first introductions had been made , and successfully at that. No injury or ill-tempered exchanges. Then into the garden, one ingredient at a time until the recipe was complete. The menagerie was established (until he met the cat, Perseus, the next morning) and it was time for all of us to retire to sleeping quarters with Jackson alone keeping us company overnight.
Now, sleeping and seating rules had been relaxed already in Perth, so Jackson was straight up on the bed, stretching out to fill what seemed half a kingsize. He slept soundly despite all the shut-eye in the past 24 hours. Apparently dogs suffer more from Jet lag than humans, but given labradors sleep for two-thirds of the day anyway, it was hard to tell. Good food and walking routines were reestablished, and he was getting so much company and exercise with the other dogs, that the settling in process went amazingly well. Within days he was running rings around the older dogs, learning when and when not to compete for balls, toys and frisbees, and establishing which chair would be his princely throne. He’d exhaustively audited and re-sorted the toy boxes, too — an important job for the newbie. And he was loving the absence of stairs to get out of the building, flying out of the door into the garden when Mars or Vulcan announced it was that time again.
The walking routine was a bit different, especially needing to stay garden-bound to avoid bears at night, and off-leash opportunities were limited to the garden too, for the time being, with much stricter access laws than in Scotland. But this provided the chance to reinforce and relearn walking to heel as well as poop etiquette. After all, you wouldn’t want to get shot or attacked by wildlife for dumping your load where it wasn’t welcome. There was even a poop-lady to ‘pick-up in the garden!
International-Eyes.org 