The Adventures of BoBo and BooBoo

The wheels of the jet touched down onto the tarmac as I peered out the window. It was a beautifully sunny, 70 degree morning, the kind of Spring day you dream of in the dead of Winter. The first leg of a very long journey from Pittsburgh, PA to Homer, Alaska was complete but the adventure was just beginning.

My thoughts quickly turned to Scott and the drop off. I would call him upon landing at Chicago's Midway Airport on my way to an ill planned connection at O'Hare airport (the complete opposite side of the city). He would meet me curbside at arrivals to deliver "the item".

"Hello."
"Hi, Scott?"
"Yes, I'm in the parking lot down the street."
"See you in 10 minutes..."

I quickly grabbed my luggage and fumbled my way to the curb. His silver Jetta appeared from around the corner and came to a stop in front of me. We exchanged pleasantries and he motioned to the front passenger seat. That's when I saw it...BoBo. A small, beige, plastic pet carrier held the precious cargo; the sweetest little fox-like face set with eyes that could melt a Marine gave way to a mass of fine puppy hair easily three inches deep. This 8 week old Pomeranian was my new travel companion. As the Traffic Management Authority harassed us for loitering too long we thanked each other and just like that, BoBo and I were on our way.

My mother soon picked us up and we made our way to O'Hare airport. BoBo pressed his tiny black nose against his carrier and wondered at the new world around him, his amazement no doubt fueled by his fear of new sights, sounds, smells. After a short but spirited run at a rest stop (our last potty break for what we thought would only be 5 hours) we arrived at O'Hare.

BoBo's ticket came to $80 which I was gracious enough to loan him. This leg would bring us from Chicago to Phoenix with enough time to run to the dog park in Phoenix before our flight to Anchorage. It was soon time to board. We took our seats (mine a window, his tucked safely under the seat in front of me) as BoBo seemed to drift toward sleep. I prayed he might stay in hibernation for the duration of the flight, long enough to be able to wake him and wear him out at the dog park at the next airport. The main concern was takeoff, an event sometimes uneasy for even a seasoned traveler. Some earlier crying seemed to foreshadow a potential problem, but as the wheels lifted off the ground the gentle turbulence slowly rocked the little one to sleep. My fears were temporarily assuaged.

Three and a half hours later we pulled into Phoenix with only one hour until the next flight, just enough time for a potty/food/water break for the both of us. I accosted the first airline employee I encountered after walking off the jet bridge. Research the day before indicated two dog parks at this airport. Now where were they?

"Excuse me do you know where the dog park is?"
"The dog park? Hmmm..."
"Is it pretty close?"
"Oh the dog park...it's actually outside of the terminal."
"Outside of the terminal?!!! You mean I'd have to come back through security?"
"Yes. Pretty inconvenient, huh?"
"Yes...yes it is. Thanks."

Defeated I looked for other options. Could I go into the single handicapped restroom and lay out a piddle pad? Could I fit the pad in his carrier? Needless to say the poor creature needed some food and water. I slide them in slowly as his pointy snout eagerly pushed through, his itty-bitty, needle teeth testing my skin.

"Don't worry little guy...we only have 6 more hours in the air," I said, as much to assure myself as to assure him. Ugh!

This may be a good time to point out that if you ever want to receive attention in an airport from both women and the elderly alike carry a puppy. Just know that while everyone "wants one" and thinks it's "so cute", inevitably none of these people want the responsibility that comes with your charge.

Before we knew it we were seated and ready for our last flight of the day when all of a sudden the noise began. Every bit of the guinea pig grunt, squeaky wheel, crying baby mix made me cringe as my worst fear came true. I was now "that guy". The flight attendant's preemptive scolding about opening the cage to pet him prevented me from helping the little pup. I slumped in my chair as people around me tried to determine the cause of the siren like wails.

"Yes," I nodded, "it's mine...a Pomeranian puppy...his name is BoBo...yes..that's right...I said BoBo."

The plane took off and, luckily, my little friend once again fell fast asleep. I soon followed, dreaming of the end of this mighty endeavor.

Seemingly at once the plane landed, I awoke and BoBo resumed his whining. After giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done (so far) I gathered my belongings and exited the aircraft. My father greeted us, grinning at the sight of his only son and the new puppy...safe, albeit both of us a little drowsy.

This would truly be the final portion of the trip; a four hour drive from Anchorage down the Kenai Peninsula to Homer. A short stop for gas yielded good results for both water and potty training, BoBo happy to finally run free. With the exception of some precipitation at the mountain pass everything was going smoothly until, with only 20 miles left to Homer, I felt a warm sensation spread across my lap. Apparently the puppy hit the limit of his bladder releasing its full contents onto my jeans. As the sudden shock subsided my father and I soon spiraled into tears of laughter. There was no point in stopping to change now...after all we were only 15 minutes away. After a short pause to shove a wad of McDonald's napkins from the glove compartment between myself and the car seat we pushed on. The Homer spit soon came into sight and not long after we pulled into the driveway. Soaked with urine and physically exhausted we brought BoBo into his new home. Soon everyone was awake with the excitement of the new arrival.



After a trip spanning 24 hours, three planes, three cars, one pair of damp jeans, and over 5,000 miles we finally arrived. As the first rays of morning sunshine began to dance over the snowy mountain peaks, I sat, content, basking in the ecstatic glow of a family in the first few minutes with its new puppy.