Nineteen

Yesterday was all about the military moving misadventures. I’m no stranger to these, the first time I heard of a rip, was three days after I got engaged and I learned that this little piece of paper had the power to completely flip my world upside down. A month later I was on my way to Germany. Our second PCS gave us more notice of where we were moving, but we ended up having to push back our report date and still only got our orders 2 weeks prior to landing in Turkey.

I was really hoping for a calm, easy, and quiet PCS this time around. And I still am. Only, this whole government shutdown seems to have ground everything to a halt. We’ve had our stuff submitted since the shutdown ended and we’re still lacking orders.

Still, there are things we can do in order to get ready. One of those things is reserving our tickets for the plane ride home. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but with two big dogs, we want to get on this early so that we don’t have to fly them commercially.

B was stuck in a small room at work doing noting yesterday, so of course he decides to start the paperwork. Most of what he needed from me made sense, passport numbers, SSNs, all the things to confirm documentation on who would be traveling. Then he asks me to pull out one of the travel kennels for the dogs in order to measure and weigh it.

These things are not small, but I wrestle it out of the storage closet in the carport and drag it into the house. I definitely preferred fighting with it myself than having to load it and the dogs into the car to go to the terminal to weigh them. So I took the measurements, grabbed my dinky scale (I think it will not be making the move so I can buy a nicer one in ND) and stepped on it with the kennel.

On goes the information to B that the kennel weighs roughly 20 pounds. Combined with Loki that’s 80lbs and combined with Sam that’s 70 lbs. We joke about putting Loki on a diet to make the weight cutoff for the lower price. Only to be told that our guesses won’t work, we have to bring the dogs in to the terminal.

I call them to verify how late they’re open and see if I can bring the dogs and just one kennel to make my life easier. Again, big kennels, big dogs, and our car is only a small sedan.

Nope. I have to bring in both kennels. I set about taking the kennels a part and cramming them into the car. Now, instead of 20lbs of kennel to fight with at one time, I’ve got 40lbs. And then I’m waiting for B to finish sitting in his little room doing nothing so that he can go with me. Finally, about 40 minutes before they close, I tell him that I’m putting the dogs in the car and coming to get him. If he’s done in ten minutes, he can go with, otherwise, I’m going to terrorize the terminal trying to get this taken care of.

He walks out right as I pull up and down we go. We’re walking up, me with two dogs going crazy on the leashes, B with the kennels, when a guy approaches us, “Sir, I’m sorry but the dogs have to be in a kennel before you go inside.” We get the kennels reassembled (sort of, we skip a few screws as we’re just looking for a quick put together, not anything lasting. The poor dogs are forced into their kennels and loaded on luggage carts. We’re escorted in and around the security machines, much to the consternation of the guy watching the machines. He didn’t seem very assuaged by the promise that we were only getting the dogs weighed, but we were allowed to pass.

They weigh the dogs and sure enough, Loki was at 80 lbs with his kennel and Sam was at 70lbs. Then we had to do all of this in reverse. Only, as we pulled them from the kennels, we realized that both had peed themselves in fear. And did it ever stink. I was so glad I had B with me at least, so we could tag team bathing them, cleaning the kennels, etc. But no, he had to go back to his little room.

I brought the dogs home and bathed them, then wrestled the damn kennels back out of the car and sprayed them down. And promptly collapsed on the couch, only to be called by B to say he was finally ready to come home.

The good news is, we now have everything needed to reserve our plane tickets out of here. That is worth every bit of frustration and chaos involved in the process.

~The Countess~

 

 

 

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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