The Crossing, Land, Ho!

2 07 2008

Denny opens the kennel door to the deck and there is a new scent in the air: raw, dirty, earth.  god made dirt, dirt don't hurt


I push my nose under the rail and, with one eye, catch a glimpse of land.  With a simultaneous jerk, I am whisked into the arms of my Contessa and pointed in the direction of the elevator. 

My fair-sea friends bark a “buon viaggio”.  We have reached Southampton and the odyssey is over.

The clean sheets and clotted cream of London await.  Hyde park in the gentle mist of an English morning.  The fur hats of the palace guards…Buckingham Palace Guard

For a dog, life is clearly in the destination, I think.  For that is always where the nose points: discovery in middle of the unknown.

I am a traveling dog.are you walking the dog?


The Crossing, Terzo Giorno

17 06 2008

Next morning and Denny takes to opening all the cage doors.  A flurry of activity ensues: all wags and sniffs as the contents of said cages make proper introductions.  QM2 kennel on Deck 12

Neutral territory begs a certain calm manner and the kennel residents are on their best behavior–all except for La Tour: a golden cat shaped like the Eiffel Tower.  Tabby CatHe has not been released to the fray on the floor below.  He sits like a statue mid-cage and hisses without moving his lips.

I wave my nose under the door of his “cabin”.  He makes no move, eyes frozen on the door to the outside deck, and moans a low, controlled growl.

Virgina gives me a nudge and I follow her into the next room.  Denny, the steward, turns a box on its side and a dozen green tennis balls roll across the smooth floor.  Dog Gargles BallSuddenly pandemonium erupts as every dog must find at least one ball.  Ball and dogVirginia scoops up two between her jaws and Churchill noses one into the corner until it has no where to go but onto his tongue.Dog with Ball

We are all sitting down, looking at each other, waiting for the first ball to drop, when Denny sets the floor with eight bowls.Good Dog Food

I am the first to let the ball roll.  I have my priorities.  The steward pours something dry into the dishes.  When I reach the first offering, I give it a cursory sniff and nibble: generic, crunchy kibble.

A knock on the door and Virginia’s woman appears with a plate of something that smells divine.  The woman scrapes it into the bowl nearest Virginia and Virgina wastes no time trying to determine what it is.  Breakfast for seniors!It disappears in several gulps and Virginia give a broad lick of her lips.

Room service, she service menu front page 1

I cast her a long look and narrow my eyes. 

Give me the number.


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