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mechchic3 · 11-29-2007, 03:57 PM

This is an article by The NY Post Cindy Adams. She is the owner of two Yorkshire Terriers. I just found it amusing because I work for an Airline and what she says couldn't be more true.....

CINDY LIEVE, editor-in-chief of Glamour magazine, asked me how is a dog like a man.

I told her, they're both household pets. Whether he's Fido from the kennel or Franco from The Bronx, you have to feed him, pet him, give him attention, cootchy-coo him, tell him over and over what a good boy he is and you have to supervise his cleanliness. And throw him a bone periodically. And watch that this household pet does not become a potbellied pig. No vacuuming up everything on the table. No seconds on cheesecake. No chocolate. No booze.

No matter which sly dog we're talking about, you definitely have to guide his behavior when he shares your bed. And maybe with the taller variety you don't exactly have to play "Fetch," but you sure as hell do have to play games. And you have to let him out now and then. Also, both animals require training. Whereas a two-legged male leaves the seat up in your powder-room loo, a four-legged male lifts his leg on your living-room chair. Both must be taught how to go potty. And most of all, whatever the breed, remember: a hairy beast does best when kept on a short leash.

So if both species need the same care and feeding, why shouldn't both warrant the same rights?

Like, for instance, on an airplane. My two 31/2-pound hounds flew first class to and from Arizona last week. Neither even took up a seat, yet it was required that their full fare be paid. No freebies. No discounts.

But did they get mileage? No.

Jazzy and Juicy Adams were fed no airline meals. Not even a treat. Didn't even get the regulation crappy mini-pretzels or salty stale almonds. And being Park Avenue New Yorkies and seasoned travelers, their behavior was impeccable. They didn't try to hassle the stewardess. Didn't want more ice. Didn't ask for a blanket. Didn't get drunk. Didn't look to heist those icky headphones. Didn't pester anyone because they couldn't figure how the seat reclined or tray table dislodged.

They didn't even take up any room. They had to fly inside their own carry-bag that regulations required being stowed under your seat the entire time. Never were able to stretch their legs the whole five hours. And forget about using the facilities. Neither used one drop of the airline's soap, water, Kleenex or toilet tissue. They did not litter, stuff up the seat pockets in front of them or toss messy newspapers on the floor to make work for the clean-up crew.

Their three-inch legs did not stick out in the aisle to impede the (excuse the phrase) food cart. They did not demand pre-boarding because of pregnancy or age or impairment. They asked no favors. Didn't yap when the plane was delayed taking off. Didn't pester the service reps as to where's the gate for this or exit for that. I mean, you couldn't want for nicer passengers. They asked for nothing. They got nothing. Yet they were charged full doggie fare.

But did they get mileage? No.

Except for Jazzy, who had a squeaky toy in his mouth, there was no carry-on. They didn't overload the overhead bins with stuff that shifted in flight and zonked you on the head when you opened it. They didn't request their coats be hung. They didn't get up before the plane came to a final halt and the seatbelt sign was turned off. When some slob across the aisle snored like a Roto-Rooter, they did not badger the flight attendant for a seat change. I mean, my two family members were a perfect lady and gentleman.

They have a cocker-spaniel friend who once, before flying, overate and thus exceeded the cabin's 20-pound maximum. He was coming in to New York from Canada. Although he's royalty - a King Charles with a pedigree better than the airline's CEO - he was made to fly cargo. In the belly of the plane. In a cage. With no mommy to comfort him. And his ticket for this trip one-way? $170.

But did he get mileage? No.

The Chinese tell us this is The Year of the Dog. Jan. 29 ushers in the Chinese calendar-year 4704. Listen, my Yorkshire terriers do not need to participate in the dragon dance or firecracker ceremony. They couldn't care less what Confucius says. They'd rather sniff each other's butts than plum blossoms and chrysanthemums. You can even shove the chicken from Column A and beef from Column B. But how about a little respect? The dog is a sign of good fortune. So how about giving him some?

Just how about maybe - mileage?

11-29-2007, 03:57 PM	#1
mechchic3 Donating Yorkie Yakker Join Date: Nov 2007 Location: Tampa Posts: 531	The Real Poop On Airline Bias This is an article by The NY Post Cindy Adams. She is the owner of two Yorkshire Terriers. I just found it amusing because I work for an Airline and what she says couldn't be more true..... CINDY LIEVE, editor-in-chief of Glamour magazine, asked me how is a dog like a man. I told her, they're both household pets. Whether he's Fido from the kennel or Franco from The Bronx, you have to feed him, pet him, give him attention, cootchy-coo him, tell him over and over what a good boy he is and you have to supervise his cleanliness. And throw him a bone periodically. And watch that this household pet does not become a potbellied pig. No vacuuming up everything on the table. No seconds on cheesecake. No chocolate. No booze. No matter which sly dog we're talking about, you definitely have to guide his behavior when he shares your bed. And maybe with the taller variety you don't exactly have to play "Fetch," but you sure as hell do have to play games. And you have to let him out now and then. Also, both animals require training. Whereas a two-legged male leaves the seat up in your powder-room loo, a four-legged male lifts his leg on your living-room chair. Both must be taught how to go potty. And most of all, whatever the breed, remember: a hairy beast does best when kept on a short leash. So if both species need the same care and feeding, why shouldn't both warrant the same rights? Like, for instance, on an airplane. My two 31/2-pound hounds flew first class to and from Arizona last week. Neither even took up a seat, yet it was required that their full fare be paid. No freebies. No discounts. But did they get mileage? No. Jazzy and Juicy Adams were fed no airline meals. Not even a treat. Didn't even get the regulation crappy mini-pretzels or salty stale almonds. And being Park Avenue New Yorkies and seasoned travelers, their behavior was impeccable. They didn't try to hassle the stewardess. Didn't want more ice. Didn't ask for a blanket. Didn't get drunk. Didn't look to heist those icky headphones. Didn't pester anyone because they couldn't figure how the seat reclined or tray table dislodged. They didn't even take up any room. They had to fly inside their own carry-bag that regulations required being stowed under your seat the entire time. Never were able to stretch their legs the whole five hours. And forget about using the facilities. Neither used one drop of the airline's soap, water, Kleenex or toilet tissue. They did not litter, stuff up the seat pockets in front of them or toss messy newspapers on the floor to make work for the clean-up crew. Their three-inch legs did not stick out in the aisle to impede the (excuse the phrase) food cart. They did not demand pre-boarding because of pregnancy or age or impairment. They asked no favors. Didn't yap when the plane was delayed taking off. Didn't pester the service reps as to where's the gate for this or exit for that. I mean, you couldn't want for nicer passengers. They asked for nothing. They got nothing. Yet they were charged full doggie fare. But did they get mileage? No. Except for Jazzy, who had a squeaky toy in his mouth, there was no carry-on. They didn't overload the overhead bins with stuff that shifted in flight and zonked you on the head when you opened it. They didn't request their coats be hung. They didn't get up before the plane came to a final halt and the seatbelt sign was turned off. When some slob across the aisle snored like a Roto-Rooter, they did not badger the flight attendant for a seat change. I mean, my two family members were a perfect lady and gentleman. They have a cocker-spaniel friend who once, before flying, overate and thus exceeded the cabin's 20-pound maximum. He was coming in to New York from Canada. Although he's royalty - a King Charles with a pedigree better than the airline's CEO - he was made to fly cargo. In the belly of the plane. In a cage. With no mommy to comfort him. And his ticket for this trip one-way? $170. But did he get mileage? No. The Chinese tell us this is The Year of the Dog. Jan. 29 ushers in the Chinese calendar-year 4704. Listen, my Yorkshire terriers do not need to participate in the dragon dance or firecracker ceremony. They couldn't care less what Confucius says. They'd rather sniff each other's butts than plum blossoms and chrysanthemums. You can even shove the chicken from Column A and beef from Column B. But how about a little respect? The dog is a sign of good fortune. So how about giving him some? Just how about maybe - mileage?