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Bird
Dogs
December
17, 2013
Any of us who have spent much time around
general aviation airports have probably witnessed an arriving
light airplane, where when the door opened the first person out
was a dog.
Dogs are adaptable creatures and for those
of us whose life is made complete by the constant presence of
our four legged best friends, taking them along in an airplane
doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary.
 Dude,
the Yellow Lab that had me before my present Lab Austin got me,
came into my life when I was doing a lot of flying to
destinations scattered all over the US. On his first flight, I
just patted the wing walk and he leaped up and strolled into the
cabin like he'd done it a hundred times before. He looked a
little puzzled on takeoff when the scenery started slowing down
and shrinking, but after contemplating this for a few seconds he
curled up in the same comfortable ball that he used in the car
and that was the end of it. For the next ten years he became as
much a part of my flights as my charts. Twins, singles, high
wing, low wing, one hour flight or two day journey, it all
seemed to be the same to Dude. He was usually asleep by the time
we reached altitude and his only movement was after an hour or
two he would often get up, glance out the window as if checking
up on my navigation, then swap ends and settle back to his nap.
In
the ten years that his flying career lasted I estimated that he
logged about a thousand hours and visited 30 states or so with
me. And as you might imagine having a dog as a flight crew
member created some interesting situations in the course of our
travels.
On one flight we were in a Baron heading for
Mississippi in the late afternoon, when a wall of angry clouds
that was too large to get around ended our flight in Memphis.
Obviously we needed a room for the night. Unfortunately, in
looking for a place to stay I ran through all the motels that
were near the airport and aircrew friendly by mentioning, 'oh,
by the way, there isn't a problem if my dog is with me, is
there?' Finally in desperation I found an expensive hotel
downtown that did accept dogs for an expensive additional fee,
so we took an expensive cab ride and repaired to the Hilton.
 Dude
was no stranger to hotels, but when we traveled by automobile
our modus operandi was to park out of sight of the front desk
and with Dude in the car I would secure our lodging and take the
luggage to the room. When the coast was clear I would go out a
back entrance, block the door open and sneak Dude down the hall
and into my room, hoping all the while that we didn't run into a
motel employee. But on the occasions where I had no choice but
to pay the price, have him declared an official guest and enter
through the front door, he somehow knew the difference. He then
employed a special strut while passing the desk and sashaying
down the hall to our room. It was a completely different walk
than the sneaky lope he used when coming in the back way, and it
stated in no uncertain terms that he was in with the in crowd
and that he owned this carpet he was strutting on.
On
another very expensive trip, I'd delivered an airplane to its
new owner in Dallas and at the same time was also buying an
airplane from a gentleman who lived in Austin. He had generously
agreed to meet me in Dallas and drive me down to Austin to
inspect the airplane and hopefully to buy it.
In
Dallas, the airplane delivered, I arrived at the appointed place
and time with the smiling Dude in tow. There I observed the
shocked airplane owner peering at me from his new BMW 500
series, a look on his face appropriate for my arrival
accompanied by an elephant but not I thought, for a dog. Had I
forgotten to mention that I'd have Dude with me? I may have. I
was so used to traveling with him that it never occurred to me
speak of it.
I had the next hour and a half to
contemplate the fact that, incredible as it seems, not everyone
loves dogs. These and other black thoughts occurred to me as I
sat in the back seat of a yellow taxi, the ever faithful Dude
and I following the gleaming BMW to Austin while I listened to
the ominous click of the cab's meter.
Another Dude
powered adventure that stands out in my memory was the time we
arrived in a river town that was having a Regatta. It was a fair
sized community and it was obvious that this gala was the
premier event of the year, and that lots of preparation had gone
into making it perfect. Several blocks of the downtown had been
blocked off to traffic and the carnival and attractions filled
the streets. Since I had a day to kill before my appointment,
Dude and I joined the strollers in checking out the displays.
After a few minutes I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to
gaze into the cool eyes of a large policeman. He looked us over
for a few seconds, and then gravely informed me that dogs were
not allowed to attend their regatta. I think it was Albert
Einstein who said that the degree of civilization of a place
could be judged by how they treated their animals or words to
that effect, and I've never seen any reason to argue with that.
Dude and I sulkily retired to the outside of the
street's barriers and reconnoitered. I noticed that the gendarme
who had braced us seemed to be assigned to this far end of the
festival, which left at least two blocks of attractions open at
the other end. We circled around the celebration to the opposite
end of no dog's land and I put on my sun glasses, which were a
very dark shade, and shortened Dude's leash until it resembled
the harness of a - well, of a Seeing Eye dog. We again entered
the banned area, this time with us walking slowly, Dude by my
side and me only moving my eyes behind the glasses and never my
head. Parents pulled their children from our path and Dude,
somehow sensing the importance of his role in what was
occurring, looked just like what I was portraying him to be. We
also apparently passed muster with the police on this side of
the festival, for they gave us only the briefest glance as we
passed them several times.
 After
about an hour of pleasant strolling we came face to face the
same policeman who had banished us before. Apparently his patrol
area had been revised and unfortunately in meeting us for the
second time, he failed to see the humor in our subterfuge. He
described to us in great detail the interior of the basement of
their courthouse where we would be spending the next few days if
we didn't convince him that we would disappear forever. I
fortunately was successful in communicating how very done we
both were with their Regatta and how in a few seconds we
wouldn't even be a shadow upon their event. Mercifully, he said
he would allow us to remove our unworthy selves from their event
if we promised we wouldn't come back. We promised, and I'm proud
to say that to this day we've never broken that promise.
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