We just rocked Mishka’s world. Our little Kazakh street mutt has gone where few Kazakh street mutts will go: America. While it would be easy to write 250 words about the complexity of getting animals out of Kazakhstan (yup, perplexingly, even strays—in a place where folks are rewarded a handsome sum of 5,000 KZT per head, about $26, to kill street dogs), I’ve decided not to bore you with the logistical, nonsensical details.
Instead, I would like to share with you our experience with dog jet lag. This is a real thing, and it’s not over yet. As I write, Mishka is PASSED OUT on the bed, uninterested in food and even, even, uninterested in my in-laws’ sweet, boisterous pup, Georgia. The stages of her jet lag have progressed something like this:
First: OMGOMGOMG, I thought I would never see you guys again and wow I’ve never gotten to stay in a hotel before and the SMELLS! SO MANY NEW SMELLS! and a whole house with a dog exactly my size for playing with and stairs INSIDE the house and I can go outside of the house if I just sit by the back door long enough IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN scrambled eggs for breakfast!
Then: play play play play play play play PLAY PLAY
Next: I’m so sorry so sorry so sorry it’s just a little bit of vomit over there on the carpet so sorry so sorry oh god I’m going to vomit again (and again and again and yes in the middle of the night too) all of the food is gross and I really don’t want to vomit again
Now (and for the last 24 hours): I am part of the bed I am one with the bed please don’t ask me to leave the bed or this room or the house but most importantly this bed DO NOT DISTURB
Yup, dogs get jet lag, too.