No Man Left Behind

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Deciding to sell my business and run 5,000 miles away to a tropical island is one thing. But watching the fantasy come to life is a totally different thing. Timing is everything in a move this big. For instance, the movers have to collect your things eight to twelve weeks earlier than the actual move date to arrive at a reasonable enough time to the new home. Then there is the coordination of the car shipment and renting a car while they, too, are floating across the Pacific. But nothing, nothing could have prepared me for the transport of eighteen animals to their new home in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. To be clear, the eighteen animals were a combination of my parents’ pets, my sister’s pets and our family’s pets. Between us, we had eleven dogs, five cats, a horse and an African Grey Parrot. 

We decided to leave my horse, River, behind for a short while until we could find a suitable farm for him. So this is the story of how we moved seventeen animals across the country and the pacific. The paperwork in and of itself could be a novel, however, it would be a super boring novel of the back and forth between my office and The Hawaii Department of Agriculture. After many long months, the rabies titers were complete, the microchipping was done and the health certificates written. We had a green light to move them onto the island of Oahu. We had the good foresight to send our children and our parents ahead while my husband, my sister, my brother-in-law and I would drive across the country to Los Angeles where we would all board the plane to paradise. 

My husband and I would be in one RV while my sister and her husband would drive an RV behind us. Each RV was filled with crates for the animals, pet food to last a week and minimal clothing and toiletries for the humans. This was no vacation. We were on a mission to get across the country safely to a plane that I had chartered just for those precious animals. In our RV were our four dogs, four cats and our bird, Penelope, as well as my parents’ three dogs, one of which would kill a cat or bird if given the chance. In my sister’s RV were her pets and of course, the binder, filled with day by day instructions and directions of exactly what cities we were stopping in, what RV parks I had booked and the miscellaneous section for notes along the way. We had eight days to make it from central Florida to LA. 

We pulled out of our small town in Florida feeling relaxed, excited and ready to face the challenge. I was certain I knew how to operate this RV’s generator system as well as empty the black water tank (I think we all know what that means) and my husband was confident he was up for the cross country driving challenge. Sometimes I am so thankful for ignorance. It gives you the strength to be fearless. We were completely ignorant of what lay ahead as we blasted the RV tunes out of a speaker that I had bought just for the trip and excitedly sang along. I was most worried that my parrot would suffer horribly on this trip. Turns out Penelope loved to sit and watch the cities go by. She was happier than a pig in mud, talking and singing along as we barreled down Interstate 10. 

What was most surprising to us as we crossed the southern states was the utter failure of most of the states to maintain their roads. Potholes, giant cracks, and bumps in the asphalt were the norm. There were better roads in a third world country we had just visited. We felt every bump and pothole in the tin can, what we not so affectionately called our RV. Then there was the added bonus of concrete barriers pushed right up against the right lane marker for miles taking away any shoulder for safety in an attempt to convince us that some type of highway construction may happen with no evidence that it actually was. But we were doing it. We were on schedule and all the animals seemed to be handling it better than expected and we were about to make it out of Texas, a state that we thought would never end. 

But it wasn’t until we actually made it through Texas that the metaphorical wheels of our trip began to fly off, one by one. As we entered the deserts of Arizona, news reports of a fatal heat wave across the country were lighting up our cell phones. The heat wave of 2022 that left 125 million people under excessive heat warnings and we were hurtling across a desert with ACs that could barely keep up in moderate weather. My cell phone dinged with texts from my worried sister in the RV behind us. “Are you watching the news?” she texted. “Of course.” I replied. She asksed, “What if our ACs go out?” To which I replied, “No what ifs right now. Only what is.” I could not allow myself to think about what would happen if either our RV or our AC broke in the middle of the desert with no means for cooling off anywhere and no exit in sight. We had filled gallons of water for emergencies and prayed as we drove across the desert. 

To make matters worse, we had our first experience with a dust devil. If you are not from the desert you may not know that dust devils are tiny tornadoes of dust that spontaneously form and move quickly until they dissolve just as quickly as they form. These micro tornadoes pack a punch and I was watching them form around us thinking how pretty they were when one slammed into the side of our RV. It shook our tin can like a miniature bomb went off and my husband gripped the steering wheel holding on for dear life and wondering what had just happened. I pointed to the dust devils out of the window. It then became a game of slowing and speeding up again to avoid taking another direct hit from those little nightmares. After what seemed like days, but only mere hours, we pulled into our RV park in Tucson, Arizona. The heat was dissipating and replaced with cool desert evening air and we all collectively sighed with relief. We had made it one more day. 

That evening my husband and I were excited to have dinner with his sister and family whom we had not seen in years as they had relocated to Tucson for work. We took the coveted hot shower in the park bathroom and dressed in the cleanest clothes we could find. Mid meal and finally beginning to relax, we got the call. “Hey Erin, just wanted to let you know that the plane you chartered is broken and currently in Italy. They are waiting for the part to be shipped so the plane can be repaired. So sorry for this inconvenience.” So sorry for this inconvenience? So sorry for this inconvenience? I am traveling with seventeen animals whose health certificates have a deadline on them and who need to get to their home. “When will the plane be ready?” I ask. She says, “We just have no way of knowing.” 

I hung up the phone in shock. We finished our meal as fast as possible to get back to the RV park and figure out what the hell our next step would be. I barely slept tossing and turning and rose with the sun. Drinking my coffee and googling flights for our animals, I came across a group that transported animals in a climate controlled cabin. I called them, fingers crossed, and asked how it all worked and if they had space. Turns out they had three spots for animals that night if we could make it to LA by 9pm. Looking at my watch, we could make it just barely if everything went right. 

Away we went singularly focused on making it to the airport to deliver my parents’ dogs for transport. As we hit the outskirts of LA, we knew that we were going to make it. There were no obstacles in our way…until my phone rang out again. This time it was my sister. We had gotten separated from all the traffic. Her RV was making funny sounds, the AC was no longer working and the engine light was on. They pulled off on the side of the road and sat weary and defeated. The RV was slowly heating up and her flat-nosed doggies were starting to pant. We pulled off on an exit to figure out what to do while a wave of panic swept over me. My husband, who I must say is amazing in emergency situations, googled the closest hotel to them that allowed animals. “Can you make it just a few miles down the road?” he asked my sister who replied that she thought she could. They were going to try to make it to the hotel and if they could not, we would turn around and go get them. They made it just before the AC went completely out and just as our RV skidded into the LA airport with minutes to spare. We loaded the three dogs, kissed them goodbye and headed out to find a hotel that accepted the rest of our animals with a bed big enough for us to finally stretch out in. There, we collapsed from fear and exhaustion in a hotel I was sure was rented by the hour, but damn that AC got nice and cold. 

The next morning we cleaned the RV to prepare for its return. We thanked our tin can for taking us safely across the country but it would be many months before someone could say RV without it triggering me. Our new plan was that I would fly out with one cat and my bird and get to Hawaii to be there to collect our other pets. We had two nights of back to back flights to get the rest of our animals on the island. So my husband, sister and brother-in-law stayed back to load the animals safely. Once loaded they would catch a flight over. 

The next morning bright and early, we awoke to enact the first leg of the final portion of our hellacious trip. My husband drove Fritter, Penelope and me to the airport to board. We left very early because LAX is a beast to conquer. I waited patiently in line to check in and my husband headed back to the hotel to tend to our other pets. Finally it was my turn to check in. The woman at the ticket counter looked over all my pet paperwork and after a long pause asked, “Where is the Plant Quarantine Import Permit for your bird?” My heart sank. Why on earth would I need a plant import permit? I glanced down at my watch and saw that time was passing quickly and I was close to missing my flight. I stepped out of line and called my husband. Doing everything possible to hold back tears, I ran to the street to hand off Penelope to him and try to catch my flight. I waited as the traffic inched by and the time flew by. Finally I saw him and I ran out in the middle of all the traffic to hand off my beloved bird. We would fly her over with the other animals. In the middle of the road just before I got to the car, my carry-on bag strap broke and all the contents dumped out. My husband ran to me, helped me gather all my belongings in the busy streets of LAX airport and took Penelope. I turned to head back into the airport to catch my flight holding my cat and my bag that was no longer functional. 

Only one more obstacle I thought…security. Beads of sweat were starting to break out on my forehead in fear of missing my flight as I waited and waited for my turn. Finally, I was up. “Take your cat out of the carrier.” Wait a minute. She wanted me to remove my frightened cat from the only thing keeping her safe and confined and hold on to her while she checked the bag? I sent Fritter a silent message to please, please behave for just a minute. And she did. Back in the bag and almost through security, I was pulled aside for additional checks. The only time in my life, security thought it prudent to swab my hands for hazardous material. For whatever reason that day, my hands ignited a storm of officers that swarmed me for even further testing. I was pulled aside and clung to my precious cat. Everything I was carrying was investigated closely as the tears were building up in my eyes. There was absolutely no way I was making this flight. The ticket lady had warned me that Hawaiian Airlines had relocated and was exactly one mile from security. There was just no way. My mouth had gone completely dry as I waited to be cleared. At last they sent me on my way and I began to run. I ran as fast as I could with a cat and a dysfunctional carry-on bag. And then I came to the broken escalator. That was it. That was the last straw for me. I screamed out the “F” word and started crying so loudly and uncontrollably that everyone around me tried to get away from me. I called my husband, choking on tears and screaming into the phone. I was dry heaving from stress and he could barely understand me. I was running as fast as I could and nowhere did I see the gate. Finally, the trip from hell had broken me. I could not take another thing. I had reached my limit. I hung up and continued to try to get to my gate as I heard the final call for boarding over the loudspeaker. Just then, I rounded the corner and off in the distance I saw the tiny Hawaiian Airline sign. 

All my cares were gone, I let out the loudest most obnoxious scream I could muster, “HAWAIIAN AIRLINES – DO NOT CLOSE YOUR DOORS! DO NOT CLOSE YOUR DOORS!” I continued to scream this as I was crying and running towards a lovely ticket lady who was a little shocked by me. I made it. The last to board the plane, I got on so emotionally depleted, it would be a full hour before I could stop crying. I felt so sorry for the stranger beside me as I snotted and cried until finally I was all cried out and sat for the remainder of the flight staring at the seat ahead of me. 

And even with all that, the journey was still not over. I had to get the form for Penelope and our other animals on the plane. Luckily, I had applied for the permit long ago and forgotten. So we printed it out. Now, all we had to do was wrap Penelope in mosquito netting and get the first wave of pets to the airport. I awoke in my new home with a renewed sense of strength and hope. This was it. We were so close. While sorting out Penelope’s paperwork, I got yet another phone call. This time it was the animal transport company calling to tell me that they grounded their plane and they, too, were waiting for a part. They had no idea when they would be cleared to fly. How could this be happening to us again? I made the dreaded call to my husband and sister. Held up in horrific hotels and trying to make the best of it, they waited and waited for three days until we got word that the plane was cleared to fly. 

Nothing could have prepared us for what we faced getting our animals to Hawaii and for the most part we kept our sense of humor. It wasn’t until the end that we began to lose it, replaced with fear and fatigue. These are, after all, our family members and we would never leave a man behind. And if you asked me would I do it again? The answer is yes. Of course we would endure what we needed to endure to keep our furred and feathered animals safe and with us. This is the testament to what animals mean to us in our lives and what they mean to our clients. They all made it and on my husband’s birthday. I prepared a wonderful meal for my weary travelers and we sat around the table. We ate in silence and stared at each other, each of us acknowledging what the other had been through. We did it. We made it. 

So here I sit with my excel spreadsheet preparing for our next adventure as we say goodbye to the magnificent Hawaii and embark on the latest adventure. I wonder if I have it in me to do this again and then I look down at my precious animals and I know that I do. 

Find me on The Veterinary Compassion Fatigue Project Spotify Podcast, my website, Facebook and YouTube @TVCFP. Let’s keep talking about what we face in the veterinary and animal care world and ways that we can help each other. Reach out if you have a particular topic you would love to hear about. Subscribe to hear updates on our annual restoration retreat to be launched in Spring of 2025. As always, I hope you find what you are looking for and share it with anyone who needs it.

With love and hope,

Dr. Erin Holder