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It was an exciting day for my daughter, and yet sad for me. We were going to drive her, all her belongings, her 6 cats, a 110-pound dog and a 90-pound dog from Indiana to California. I vividly recall the date: Sept. 12, 2001, the day after our great American tragedy.
My daughter had rented a U-Haul, visited the veterinarian for one last check up of all the animals, and packed all the boxes. At five o'clock I arrived with the packing crew, both of them. The rental trailer seemed quite large until we started to put everything in, and then found that some things had to be left. In a final moment of desperation, "the crew" tied two chairs to the trailer hitch and covered it with black plastic. This was the first warning that the Travel Fairy was sending us.

The back of the SUV had a cage for the cats, and one dog sat in the front with the driver, while the other lay in the back with the passenger. It was time to pack the animals. The caramel-colored Mixed Breed Great Pyrenees was missing. Up and down the streets we drove calling her name. I finally saw a young man whose eyes were literally popping out of his head. "Are you looking for a big dog? I mean a really, really big dog?" I responded with a nod yes. "That big dog is down that alley, he almost came up to me, but I ran real fast."
I drove down the alley, opened the door, and called. "Meesha, bye-bye." She immediately got into the car. This was the second warning from the Fairy of travel.
Once we got everyone into the car, my daughter told me to help her give Mariah a pill. The vet knew that this part Dane, part Rottweiler, or Rotten Dane, was hyper and prescribed a tranquilizer. Mariah got to lie in the back with the cats and me on the first leg of the trip, eventually drooling all the way from the effects of the pills.
As we pulled out of the driveway, "the crew" shouted for us to stop. The back tire on the trailer was low. Warning number three and we hadn't left home yet.
The first and second hours were uneventful. The third hour was quite a different story. We blew a tire outside of Chicago and had to call for road assistance. By now Mariah in all of her doggy slobber was not appreciating the looks of Meesha, and while we waited she did something quite out of character. She jumped in the front seat and attempted to fight her friend. This may have been a first but wasn't going to be the last. Thank God, the cats slept quietly.
We drove all night and into the next morning before stopping. My

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