Dr. O’C pressed “Send” and there was an almost tangible change in the air of our living room – the die was cast for our Antipodean migration. We had just booked Timmins into an Australian dog jail beginning the first week of April. He has made some questionable decisions in his day, haven’t we all, but a month in Melbourne dog nick just for being a foreigner – well, that seems a bit harsh. Xenophobic Australians…

In some ways, the dog has it better than does your humble narrator. It is actually easier to get a foreign dog into Oz than a foreign human. Timmins has his Pets Passport, gets a few jabs and he’s bound for Down Under. When compared to the byzantine bureaucratic bog that I’m navigating, I’m a little bit resentful. My jealousy stops there, however, as the trip itself and his arrival in Australia is not something to envy. The dog will spend the 25-ish hour flight in a crate in the cargo hold of the plane. Admittedly, his crate may have more leg room than the average economy seat, but at least I get to walk around the plane a little bit. Upon arrival, Timmins doesn’t have to navigate Australian immigration, but he will get unceremoniously chucked into the chain-link run that he will call his cell for the next 30 days. Twice weekly walks will probably seem a bit infrequent for a dog that is used to the same amount of exercise per day.

I cringe whenever I think about how much this indignity and discomfort is costing us – the dog’s trip to Oz in the belly of the plane is more expensive than the rest of us combined. I would prefer not to be specific about the cost – let’s just say that there are four digits involved. But despite the cost and the unpleasantness of it all, we never seriously contemplated any alternative. I’ve had Timmins in my life for longer than I’ve had Dr. O’C. He’s an American expat as well, having already made a move across the Atlantic – a story for another time, but I’m fairly confident that moving him from Oxford to Adelaide will be easier than from Missouri to Oxford. Since Z’s arrival, Timmins’ standing in the family has fallen a bit and he certainly doesn’t get the attention that he used to, but as far as I’m concerned he’s as much of a member of the family as is Dr. O’C and I would no more leave him in Britain than I would leave her – a thought that has only occasionally crossed my mind.

So, there we are. The dog will lead the way – as it is in his genes to do – and it ain’t going to be fun for any of us. What all this canine chicanery means for the human members of the family is that we are out of Oxford by the beginning of April. And that was what got me thinking in Latin last night – booking the dog into quarantine set a crystal clear deadline for this long awaited move and I spent a good part of some prime sleeping time last night making circular mental lists in my head.

It pains me a little bit to think of Timmins alone in the hull of a 747 and then in quarantine – it’s hard with dogs because you can’t really explain what’s happening. But by the beginning of May we’ll be making the eight hour drive from Adelaide to Melbourne (a drive I’m strangely looking forward to) to liberate him from doggie prison. Reunited with his pack, he’ll then be free to roam the wilderness of the Adelaide suburbs and harass all manner of new fauna. From the picture above, it looks as if he’s not the only family member that’s developing a taste some Aussie critters either.

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Check out more from The Mountain Goats who I just discovered while writing this post.

 
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