Nor does it help that I am extremely motion-sickness prone. I’ve gotten nauseas watching fast-paced car chases in movies. So there you have it. On a trans-Atlantic flight, I am sick to my stomach, green in the face, and willing myself to remember if you should stay perfectly still when you see a shark or if you should just try punching it in the face. My husband is the complete opposite as a flyer. He loves to fly. He takes advantage of the free newspapers (normally getting one in every language even those he does not speak), gets a glass of wine with every meal and watches as many movies as he can.
So what kind of flyer do I expect our cat to be? Does she take after her mommy and will she also be battling sharks, or will she be curled up next to her daddy reading a copy of El Pais? Yes, readers (or reader, rather): We are planning on taking our cat with us to Barcelona. I’m actually surprised when people seem surprised about this. Why shouldn’t we want to bring her? She’s been a part of our family for five years. Yet, many people whom we’ve told have reacted with a mixture of bewilderment and disapproval. I don’t know what they expect us to do. Take her to a shelter? Unload her on a family member? (not that she wouldn’t be an excellent addition to anybody’s family). So now we are deep in the research on the proper shots needed, what kind of carrier we need to buy, and how to make sure she doesn’t have to poop for 12 hours. ¡Qué lío!