The flying zoo

Believe it or not, but when I was a kid I wondered if there might be a career in catching animals for zoos. Think about it: Those tigers and tapirs and toucans aren’t going to wander into the zoological gardens by themselves. Somebody has to roll up their sleeves, find a big net and head out looking for a new battery of… inmates.

I was probably in the throes of my Willard Price phase at the time of these considerations, that American author who penned a series of adventures featuring Hal and Roger Hunt, two teenagers who travelled the globe netting exotic animals for the aforementioned zoos. They searched for anacondas in the depths of the amazon. They went after the big cats on the African Savanna. They even went whale hunting.

My ambitions for such a role probably lasted until I visited Belfast Zoo for the first time and I realised that very few – if any – of the inhabitants of the zoological gardens actually enjoy being there.

A friend recently described it as “the saddest place in Belfast,” and to be honest, I’d find it difficult to argue a case against this assertion. In fact, I have three words to quash any counter-argument for the value of zoos: Gorillas in captivity.

And yet my affinity with animals has persisted, evidenced by the many and varied creatures which have wandered into my possession over the years (no nets were used in the trapping of said animals). This isn’t in any chronological order (nor even an exhaustive list) but, over the years, I’ve had dogs, cats, rabbits, gerbils, fish, newts, budgerigars, frog-spawn, hens, more dogs and even sea monkeys (Google it). Then there’s most recent, current and only inhabitant of my own zoological gardens, one Waffle J Devlin.

And yet – yet! –my affinity for animals stretches only so far, as I have latterly realised to the detriment of my own mental health and blood pressure. Waffle – and animals in general – are great. But there comes a time when a body need a Kitkat, a cuppa and a bit of a break.

I was forced to consider my affinity with animals – and more specifically, pets – this week after I read an interesting article about Virgin Australia laying down plans which might soon see pets allowed within aircraft cabins. More specifically still, Virgin has said that they are open to people bringing “small cats and dogs” onto planes.

This made me think: Would I bring Waffle onto a plane?

The short answer to that is: Not a hope. The long answer is: I can barely listen to Waffle in the car for the short time it takes to travel to Bundoran never mind a long haul flight from London to Australia via Dubai, Kathmandu and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

Nevertheless… in what will be an Australian first, Virgin have said they hope to launch the pet flight service within the next year, emphasising that they will work out many of the finer details at a later date.

By ‘finer’ details I take it they’re talking about the ‘dirty’ details.

Dear Virgin Australia, will we be able to pull the wagon onto the hard shoulder if Waffle needs a number two?

Dear Virgin Australia, what if Waffle cocks his leg on the plane before I notice what he’s up to?

Dear Virgin Australia, could you advise me what the protocol is if Waffle discovers that a lady Cockachon is on board and he takes a fancy to this lady and then goes aff the head crowing like Luciano Pavarotti’s pet rooster, Figaro?

Also, dear Virgin Australia, did I mention that when Waffle gets really excited he tends to have a wee widdle to himself?

Yes, the ‘finer’ details need ironed out, especially when it comes to a pet’s call of nature.

No, travelling can be a stressful enough experience without Waffle or, for that matter, any other highly strung canines or felines shouting and roaring around the plane.

Dear Virgin Australia, thanks but no thanks. I reckon I’ll be leaving Waffle at home when next I win the lottery and can afford to visit a Land Down Under.

Bonza!