Saving Days in Flight

If you are new to our site, we have some days that might qualify as super-human, maybe super exhausting are the words I really mean. Here’s how it happens…

A call, an email notification, a text message, a Facebook message that says something along the lines of, “Please help this one!” generally without any further information. So 99% of the time, my response is, “Where is it? Will they let us pick it up? Who does it belong to?” Now most rescues ask a lot more questions than this, but it didn’t take me long to figure out a few things. Here’s main thing, maybe the only thing, if the dog needs to be rescued, moved out of a bad situation, it doesn’t matter to us if it has been spayed/neutered, up to date on shots, heartworm positive, sick, ill-mannered (more on that later!), can’t walk, can’t see, can’t hear. None of this matters. We started Liz E.’s to help those who needed us the most. We went into this knowing we may have to be the emergency call. The only questions that I need answered are: Can we legally take the dog? Can someone help us move the dog from there to here? Anything else, we will figure out later. Our commitment is to the dog.

Generally these calls are not within walking distance, and often not within driving distance. Most of these calls (not all) are on average 5-20 hours from us. So what happens next? Well-meaning people send us contact information for pilots and for ground transport groups. Keep in mind, these are emergency notifications. In most cases, there isn’t time to find fosters, to find rides, to find out more information on the dog, to set a date in the next two months to move the dog. So if it’s more than say 6 hours away, commercial flight searches begin. What day can we take off work? What’s the most direct flight? What time can we leave? Who can meet us at the destination with the dog? Can we make it in one day? Please, someone show up with the dog when we get there. Believe it or not, we have flown to Canada and back in a day on more than one occasion.

Once the flight is purchased, the local contacts are made, the dog’s flight reservation is made, the day(s) are taken off work…the alarm is set. Typically for 4:30 am. Driving and arriving at the airport before the sun. Using coffee and working through the daily grind emails to stay awake. Boarding flight #1, landing in some unfamiliar airport across the country. Boarding flight #2, arriving at the dog’s airport, meeting a total stranger with a total stranger dog who is now flying with a total stranger back to the sanctuary. “Hi, how are you? Thank you for helping this guy.” Hugs of appreciation and back in the airport to ticketing. Next up, purchase dog ticket. Back through security. “Oh you have a dog!” Trying not to think out loud, the flurry of thoughts that go through our minds… “Please don’t touch it, please act like you don’t like dogs. Please don’t bite the TSA agent…” And through security we go. However, we have been stopped… that’s an entirely different story!

Now, we have been up since 4:30 in the morning. Fueled off coffee and nerves. A strange dog is staring at us while sitting in a strange airport. Guess what? Need a drink! In all likelihood, now we have another 3-6 hours to wait for the flights to board to bring us home. “Please doggie, just sit there. Please be good. Please be quiet. Please, above all, don’t POOP!” Finally a seat at the bar, a cocktail for our nerves and some food for the day. Oh trust me, by now it’s happy hour anyway-on several levels!

It’s dark out. Again. Final boarding call. We make our way through the crowd, through the little airplanes, find our cheap seat at the back. Flight #1 heading back to another airport somewhere states away from home. Land on time and maybe not, and with any luck, flight #2 isn’t delayed or cancelled…and sometimes it is. “Please don’t poop.” My neck hurts, my back hurts from toting a 15 pound sack of love around multiple airports. I focus on what’s it’s going to be like when I hit my bed and try not to think about how I have to get up and go to work the next morning. The last flight jolts me as the wheels touch down in Little Rock. Oh thank goodness. The pressure is off once we get to the car. Poop to your heart’s content! We’re good! Life can begin for this little wreck inside the carrier in 30 more minutes. 12:20 am. Arrive home. Worry about the dog’s issues tomorrow…after work.

And that friends, is only a tiny snippet of how Saving Days in Flight happen.

Every dog you see in this post, has flown on a plane and/or stressed us out one way or another. Can you name them?