Flying Dogs

I dropped a moderate bombshell on my parents this afternoon: Clooney is coming with us for our Christmas visit. He will fit under the seat in front of me, and as an added bonus, make a 9 hour trip just that much more fun. I feel bad boarding him for 8 whole days, and my friends are busy during the holidays, so we are whisking him away for his first vacay. Sadly, my parents' neigbor's Hava-Tzu (Havanese/Shih-Tzu mix) isn't going to be home (as he is also being whisked away on a doggie holiday. I wonder if there is some secret movement among lap dogs to get out and see the world...) My mom was silent. Then: sigh. My dad thought he was on Candid Camera. I said, "Clooney's good." To which the ever-astute dad responded: "he still shits and pees, though, right" So apparently, inconvenience is measured by bowel movements. ANYway, my sister, her husband, my aunt, her husband all intensely dislike animals. My sister's doormat says: "No plants, No pets, No small people" My aunt has never cared for a living organism in her house EVER. My brother in law has a hard time coping with chaos, and pets and children fall into that category. So, my dad's irritation with potty habits falls well into stride with the rest of the family's anti-canine sensibilities. Along with good will, cheer and presents, I bring little Clooney. My inner shrink wonders if I am antagonizing. My dog-loathing DNA reminds me that THIS is exactly why pets are a pain in the butt. My pragmatist says, hey, I got a dog, whatcha gonna do? (My inner pragmatist apparently speaks like Sarah Palin.)
Regardless, the dog is getting schlepped halfway across the country. I wonder how HE feels about it?