Moving to Barbados: The Dog

I couldn't think of a catchy title for this post. However, I think it's appropriate for my final post about our move. Mostly because this whole post is about the one member of our family who has tried every ounce of my patience, stretched every string of tolerance I have, all the while securely wrapping my heart strings around his fuzzy little paws. There isn't a fancy title for that, it is just- The dog.

He is, I am sure, the reincarnate of the little boy I never had. He never listens. He never obeys me. He sometimes eats what I give him but usually eats something else, like my slippers. He only comes to me when he's sad, sick, or needs to go outside. Which is typically between 2.30am and 3am.

I open with all that to outline an understanding of our relationship. We are not close and I secretly think he loathes me and that I'm in the way of his true love, dad. 

But I feel this odd sense of dedication and responsibility to this animal so getting the dog to Barbados was - well- not a fun-filled rewarding experience to say the least. 

Like the true planner that I am, I researched what was needed to bring our youngest family member to the country. Luckily, the government has a very clear, well documented site that outlines all you need to do.

Shots should be up to date, and a health certificate. Had to research the health cert and seems it basically validates he has all the vaccinations and documentation that we claim to have. Added twist, this certificate needs to be completed no more than 3 days of arrival and has to be signed by a vet and a health officer. Of course.

Since we lived in Virginia when this started, we decided we would get as much as we could get done while close to our vet. The final health certificate steps we would need to be done when we got to Florida. So I set up all needed appointments for Virginia and Florida. 

A sense of relief always sets in when I have planned out a complicated task. While the list seemed daunting, we now had a plan and plans always lessen the stress. Famous last words.

Our visit to our local vet was going to be the easiest. Although our dog is horrible with the vet, I had changed vets recently for someone who could handle him great and I enlisted my husband as backup as the dog seemed to listen to him better and honestly could manage him better. The dog was getting a bit bigger so I couldn't manage him as well if he wanted to wiggle out of getting a shot. Apparently jiu-jitsu holds don't work on Shibas.

But as it goes with anything that I think is going to be straight forward- it was not. 

Our new vet was in a small old house with a parking lot to match. With only 7 tight parking spaces within a fenced in area, I knew I wasn't bringing in a trailer and SUV. Oh yeah, at this point we had the trailer and because the husband had to be in Denver to receive our shipment, I was left to navigate on my own. 

As an aside, I am not a confident trailer driver. I don't like backing up, maneuvering in small spaces, parking and I feel even less confident in taking the trailer on and off (plus they advise you Not to do this when you get the trailer and I like to follow rules). So forward. I can drive forward.

Which brings us to the vet and his teeny tiny parking lot. It had one entrance, so I couldn't park in their lot without having to back out- so I decided to play it safe and park on the street in front of the vet. 

Also as Another aside- I thought all this through Before I went to the vet. I was so worried about the dog, and how it would work that I strategically planned out where I could park. Not really going with the flow here.

Even with all this preplanning there wasn't any close parking on the street. So I parked about 2.5 blocks away. Not a major deal, but then it started to rain. Not just a light Virginia summer rain. But monsoon dump of a rain that breaks levy's. I am pretty sure there was a flood watch. 

I grab an umbrella and try to get the dog to walk close (who Hates the rain btw) but he also hates being close so he walks in the rain occasionally stopping to look at me like 'wth are we doing lady?' We make it to the vet parking lot but with COVID, we couldn't go inside. You have to park in a numbered spot, call in, and let them know what spot you are in and they will come out and get your dog. 

So I pick a parking spot that had the smallest puddle, and call in. I tell the nurse that we are standing in spot 7. I am not sure she really heard me, or perhaps didn't piece it together but when they came out she was shocked to see we were not in a car. 

We have now been standing in the pouring rain for a total of 40 minutes which included the walk from the car. I have no idea why I am bothering with the umbrella because I am getting wet anyways with the wind and my dog is still unclear on what in the world we are doing. 

For this visit he needed a second shot of a two part vaccine and some paperwork signed. They take him in and are literally gone for only 4 minutes.  They come back out saying the dog won't let them near him. Of course. 

I can't go inside with him because of COVID and they are trying to put on a muzzle which he wants Nothing to do with (who can blame him). So they ask if I can try to muzzle him. I attempt to try multiple times but he proceeds to snap at me and freak out. He's slippery as hell too with all the rain and I can't get a grip on him. 

At this point- I have a tiny break down. I am not proud of it but in hind sight, and I ask for your compassion here, I think I was due for one. I tell the nurses between sobs that I just can't do this and that I am terribly sorry but the dog is not getting this shot today. I am soaking wet, so is the dog, and never in his 2.5 years of living has he ever snapped at me, (which I did give him a firm No Thank You for not that it mattered) so I think my ego was wounded as well. It felt like the first time your teenage child talks back to you- my heart was broken.

The nurses seemed to understand- maybe it was the distressed tearful eyes they could only see because of my mask that made my break-down seem all that more emotional. One nurse tried consoling me saying that this wasn't that bad, they have dogs that will actually bite- but for some reason, it didn't seem to help. I felt I failed.

They informed however, the timing of the shot was not critical and any vet could administer the second dose. They signed our papers and we took our leave. First part completed, sort of.

Fast forward to the second vet visit in Florida and that was a different experience. Sun was shining, it is Florida of course, and Husband was present. We didn't have a trailer so parking was easy, peasy. And of course, this vet had no issues in examining and administering shots. He said there weren't any problems. He was a very calm dog. I swear the dog does it to test me. 

We found out however that to get the health certificate certified by an officer, it had to be sent to a different facility in Florida. It was only an hour away but because of COVID, they were not accepting in person visits.  So the nurse advises me that I should get a self addressed Overnight FEDEX envelope and send it overnight to the facility. They will turn it around in a day and send it back to us. 

I would like to outline for everyone our schedule here- it is Thursday, before we leave. This means the package should arrive at the other facility late Thursday, get processed on Friday, dropped back in the mail the same day and get into my hands on Saturday. Sounded a little too perfect.

So I go to fetch the FEDEX envelopes. But apparently I have to have an account to create a self addressed envelope. I then needed to make copies of everything but the Fedex place I was at didn't have a public copier. So I run to a nearby office store, get the copies, come back, get an account, start the process for the envelopes and then she tells me I need to put a special Saturday delivery since my overnight return will wind up on a Saturday. Normally Overnight is reserved for business days. Of course, I mean we don't want this to be too straight forward do we.

Finally- I get the envelopes out the door.  I have never tracked anything so closely in my life. I watched my package traverse its way to the nearby facility. I even called to let them know it was there and if they could make sure it gets into the right hands for Friday. (vet nurse lady gave me that tip).

Saturday came- and the paperwork arrived. I messaged our dog handler in Barbados the rest of the paperwork so they could be ready for his arrival. Sunday he confirms all paperwork is in order.

All set. 

By Monday I had all the paperwork I needed to get on the plane with my dog and I had organized with the pet handler that there will be a crate waiting when we arrive at the gate.

Just another aside- I breeze through this pet handler topic, but it took a great leap of faith to trust this group that was going to manage my dog upon arrival. In Barbados your pet has to clear customs, much like you, but it has to be managed by a certified handler and not you. You can't even go in the customs hall because of COVID. Our destination services person recommended them- that really should have been enough. But just like with your kid on their first day of school- even though these are Trained Professionals, I worry that something will go wrong.

Additionally, I forgot to mention that we had to get the dog certified as an emotional support animal to get him on the plane. They were only doing a few cargo animals (and stopped just as we were in the process of going over) so we went through the paperwork to get him certified.

So, day of flight, we had our health cert, our emotional support cert, and of course our own COVID negative results.

As we waited at the gate to board, I started to feel a sense of relief. We just needed to get on the plane. The gate agent called out for one person from each family to recheck in at the desk to confirm COVID results and other needed paperwork. Husband decides to take the dog in line too in case they want to verify the dog for the emotional support animal stuff.  As he waits in line the dog throws up.

Throws Up. Pukes. Not a lot but right there at the gate. I am mortified. Husband signals to me 'hey come get the dog' but I am already 10 steps ahead and pulling out all the clorox travel wipes I had on person. I dash over and quickly clean up the mess and grab the dog. I was like a ninja janitor. With wipes. And not wearing black. 

Let's also say here, ew. I am not That mom. The mom who isn't bugged by anything, who will see puke or feces and almost jokingly say 'oh gosh this again!' and without retching, clean it up. But I was so much in Go Mode I didn't have time to consider how disgusting it was. A fellow mom even offered some wipes. sniff. She is my people.

Our dog is strange when he gets sick. He always looks at me like "what just happened??" and sometimes I think he is accusing me of making him sick. I am not sure on that last one but he definitely looks confused and accusatory. 

So of course Now I am worried the dog will get sick on the plane. I keep rubbing his throat and belly and try to give him water. He just keeps looking at me. 

We get on the plane and take off without another incident however. Much to my relief. The flight is only 3.5 hours and the dog spends most of it just sitting and staring at us. I'll take it.

When we land, I of course am now worried again about the handler and will he be there, will there be a crate, who do I talk to for that, etc. None of that was super clear in our WhatsApp exchanges. Husband confirms that he sees a crate out the window. Check, we are off to a good start. 

I opt to wait until the last people get off so we don't hinder anyone with the dog while deplaning. Husband brings up the fact though that there was another dog on the plane. Is it possible they will confuse that dog with ours? He saw only one crate. 

I hate when he's right.  I didn't want to deviate from my plan and we deplane last and sure enough that other dog is in the crate. I explain to the gate agent that I have made arrangements and I think there may be a mistake. It did wind up that the other family had not arranged anything and while I felt bad they have to wait now to get their dog managed, I feel better that I had followed process.

However, when they pull that dog out of the crate, he had pee'd in it. My Freak Out Mode is now engaged. My dog won't even accidentally urinate on himself let alone stand in another dog's urine. The gate agent gets some towels but doesn't clean it, he just covers it up. Husband puts the dog in the crate, hands the guy the paperwork and they leave. I take a look over at the crate as we board the bus and my dog is looking at me with the 'wth are you doing??' And inside, I Am Losing It. How is this sanitary??!! Is he going to get some infection from this? He is going to be traumatized for sure. Or me, whichever.

So for the remainder of our arrival, all I can think about is our dog and getting him home. The handler responds to my obvious spastic texts that he will take care of it, no problem. But there is a lot of that- not a lot of detail, just 'we got you' and you have to just trust it. 

The process works that the handler brings your pet to your home since you can't go to the animal customs facility. So I wait for what seems like a zillion hours for the handler to clear customs, and make his 45 minute journey to our villa. 

Visions of the dog laying in the pee laden crate swirled in my head and I even started to fish through our luggage to find his shampoo to bathe him upon arrival.

The handler finally made it to the villa 3 hours after our landing. As he pulled up, I see our dog sitting up front, as a passenger, right next to him. Not in a crate. Up front. Like he knew this guy for ages.

I got so choked up I couldn't even speak. 

As soon as he let the dog out of the truck he came dashing into the house and ran around as if to say 'i'm free, i'm free, can't catch me!'. The handler explained it took longer as he had to pay out the fees at a different place than normal and that he had pulled the dog out of the crate the minute it arrived in the hall. He assured me that the crate is the airports' so he would never have kept him in it anyways.  He says again 'don't worry, I take care of everything'. Of course - and he did.

I did not practice a single ounce of Zen during this entire ordeal. I can be transparent about that now. This dog for some reason pushes that limit for me in every way. However, dealing with him always results in a Zen lesson. 

I learned to start letting things go. There are things I can influence but there are so many things that will just have to take its course. I will have to deal with it on the other side. While my fretting over every possible scenario does help in planning sometimes, it can lead to poor decisions (like when to get off the plane). 

I also learned to have a little faith. There are some extreme cases out there but I had a good handler and the system in Barbados is very structured so I needed to have faith that because of my planning, all would work out properly on the other side. 

We made it. The dog made it. We made it to Barbados.