Published: Monday, Jul. 27, 2009 / Updated: Monday, Jul. 27, 2009 11:20 AM

Werrell column - July 24, 2009

Flying the man's-best-friendly skies

I needed to get to Washington in a hurry to attend a symposium on turning kudzu into a cash crop. But all the conventional flights were booked.

The only open seat I could find was on Pet Airways, which bills itself as the first all-pet airline. My fellow passengers would be a group of purebred dogs headed to a Westminster Kennel Club show near the capital.

Fine, I thought to myself, it beats sitting next to a wailing baby or a talkative fat guy who's spilling over onto my seat.

The plane was practically full when I boarded. I saw a basset hound already asleep in his seat.

I saw a dapper little Boston Terrier, a pomeranian and a Pyrenees Mountain dog sitting next to each other, a poodle standing on its hind legs, looking for attention, a golden retriever running in circles in the aisle, and a bull terrier busy tearing the stuffing out of his seat cushion. I was seated next to a Jack Russell terrier who was staring out the window, growling at something on the runway.

Once the plane was full, the flight attendant stood in the aisle to give the pre-flight spiel.

“Sit!” she said in a loud voice, getting the passengers' attention. Then, “Good dogs! Oh, you're such good dogs!”

She explained about wearing seatbelts: “They're something like leashes or collars but not really. If you need help, just yelp!”

She seemed very personable, and I liked her immediately.

“There will be no bathroom breaks until we land,” she said. “If you really think you can't make it, we have pee-pee pads or newspapers at the rear of the cabin.”

After we had gained cruising altitude, I tilted my seat back and skimmed the Pet Airways magazine. It was full of fancy personalized collars, exotic chew toys and canine cashmere sweaters ranging in size from “Toy” to “Great Danish.”.

As I placed the magazine back in the seat pouch, I saw the attendant pushing a cart up the aisle.

“Would you like something to drink, sir?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, “what do you have?

“Well, we have plain water and flavored water.”

“What flavors?”

“Liver and cheese,” she said brightly.

“OK, I'll have the plain water.” I said. “And I don't need the bowl.”

“Here you are,” she said, handing me my water and tossing me a foil packet. “Try these, they're not bad.”

I sat, sipping my water and munching on bacon-flavored treats. The Jack Russell was still staring out the window, panting and occasionally scratching furiously at the glass.

It had grown dark outside, and I caught a glimpse of the moon. The beagle must have seen it, too, because he started howling, a sound like a fire siren running low on batteries. Pretty soon, all the other dogs were joining in.

“What happens now?” I asked the attendant.

“Actually, these show dogs aren't as bad as some. The worst was a flight full of dogs headed for a Frisbee-catching competition,” she said. “Anyway, this is when we start the in-flight movie.”

The small screen came to life, and after a few ads for flea medicine and vitamins for joint pain (the ads must have been aimed at older dogs), the feature began: “Running for Their Lives.” The movie consisted entirely of cats running from a dog with a mini-cam strapped to its head — cats running up trees, cats climbing curtains, cats trying to scale walls, cats jumping onto tables and knocking over coffee cups … and on and on.

The dogs watched with rapt attention.

“When we have a lot of cats on board, we show this,” said the attendant, handing me a DVD entitled, “Eat prey, love.” “It's all scenes of cats hunting mice, birds and lizards. It gets pretty gruesome, but the cats seem to like it.”

As the movie ended, we started our descent. I looked around and saw a dachshund trying to dig a hole in his seat.

The poodle was throwing up, not having much luck hitting the barf bag. The basset hound was still asleep, and the bull terrier had started in on tearing the stuffing out of the seat next to his. The beagle had started howling again.

Soon enough, however, we had landed safely, and we lined up to make our exit.

“Thanks for flying Pet Airways,” the attendant said, smiling.

“What does the next flight look like?” I heard the captain ask as I walked past the cockpit.

“Mostly cats with a couple of cockatoos and a guinea pig,” she replied.

“Should be interesting,” the captain said.

Too interesting for me, I thought as I sidled past the Jack Russell, who was busily sniffing the Brussels griffon.