There is a cat on my flight today. I met him in the TSA line. He didn’t complain when he was lifted from his cramped lunch-box-looking cat carrier, but his owner said he was terrified. He looked right at me, but I didn’t really see the terror. Exhaustion maybe (it was 3:30 am), but the expression I saw lent me to pity him. It was if he was saying, “what on earth is going on and WHY are we going through all of this?!”
He may have been drugged–as I understand many pets (and babies) are before flights–in order to give his owner some hope of survival during the flight. He looked concerned yet somewhat helpless. I am sure he would have rather been left at home.
It was a good thing I met him in the line. He gave me new perspective on the plight of helpless pets and babies who are dragged onto airplanes to take uncomfortable voyages to places they will never remember. I decided that I would remember that next time a baby cries on a plane, I would translate the distress “WAWH” into its sure expanded form: “Why Are We Here?!” I will then continue their train of thought into the complaint that no one asked them if they wanted to come along anyway or adequately prepared them for this tragedy. Think about it. Cats and babies don’t even like car rides. A plane ride is just a long, cramped, dry, loud car ride–minus the bathroom breaks and plus that thing that happens to your ears.
If I am an unruly participant who is not content to sit up straight in a 24-inch square for hours on end, I will be inevitably shushed. My adult will get all red-in-the-face and embarrased while I caterwhaul and between exasperated attempts of bouncing me on their laps, will wonder why they thought this was a good idea six months ago. And no I don’t want to walk up and down the aisle. I want to get off this plane!
I would only take Cat on a plane in an extreme situation–like moving out of state. I would imagine that if I did, I would suffer retaliation for weeks. After all, all Cat wants is to be left alone to her routine. She is very content with simple things–just as babies are with the cardboard boxes that their elaborate toys come in.
The couple sitting behind me is traveling with a baby and a dog. Both have made limited attempts to voice their protests. The dog has barked maybe 3 times during the 3 hours thusfar. Haven’t heard from him lately. Maybe he’s been gagged.
Dad is bouncing baby in the aisle–which is so narrow that you have to do some risque lambada-style moves to get past another passenger. Baby is unimpressed but quiet. Ooh, hold on, a rather large gentleman just exited the bathroom (speaking of cramped quarters–how do you change a baby in these things? I closed the door and hit my knee on the wall) and is attempting to negotiate the aisle with baby and dad a few seat numbers away. I gotta watch this.
I have pondered the idea of a baby-friendly airline where there is bench-style seating, soft music to drown out the engines, changing tables with mobiles, Sesame Street playing on the big screen, and a bottle-warming station. They could put those baby bouncers all over the place and just anchor them to the floor with seatbelts. Of course this would not solve the problem that baby would rather have not taken this trip at all, but at least it would be a little more bearable for the seemingly mandatory holiday visits.
While I’m dreaming, I’m going to add babysitters. And a clown with balloons. And empty boxes.
I am always relieved to come home at the end of a trip. Just seeing my room gives me a sense of peace and gratitude. I can’t seem to remember what itched me to leave it in the first place.–Ooh there is a little one in the seat in front of me too! And he has now decided that he is done with this trip.–But the diversion was only for a week, and it’s good to get away sometimes. I am not sure a baby would see it the same way though. A week could be a good 1/20th of their life. That’s a huge transition. And then we want them to go back to the old routine like nothing ever happened. Wasn’t daylight savings enuogh?
I am not sure what the lesson here is, Cat, save that being content with your life makes you less likely to need to stray away from it in order to appreciate it. While many of us slug through the monotony of the everyday, pets and young children find things to relish in their daily lives which we cannot comprehend because we deem them too simple.
Cat did not need to leave her home in order to come home and be happy to see it. Cat is simply happy with having a warm home, familiar faces, and a little food now and then. I admire her for that and I will try to think some *simple* ideas to simplify.–On the other hand, after a little thought, I am making too big a project in my mind out of simplification. Cat doesn’t have yard sales to get rid of stuff or go to silent retreats or yoga. Cat doesn’t organize or plan. Cat just is. Cat’s formula for simplicity is simply just to be. …Well, how about that.