Saving Stray Dogs on a Layover

July 7 th “026

Well, happy July everyone, and for those of you who reside, like me, in the Northern Hemisphere, may we all have a beautiful summer month ahead! I’m picturing beach days and barbecues for you, and hoping that wherever you are you find some fun and adventure while you’re there.

This month, I have found myself writing this blog in my hotel room during the quiet hour before check-out. I had intended to spend all evening working on it, but lo and behold, I got distracted in the way that I always seem to, and now here I am with sixty minutes to get some thoughts down and give you an insight into the bonkers life I lead.

My friend Andy just texted me. He works for a different airline these days since jumping ship some years ago and leaving me behind, and I’m always intrigued by the places he gets to go to that aren’t on my network. This time, he informed me that he had just enjoyed a delicious pizza in Naples and was very pleased with his hotel, and I can’t say I wasn’t a tad jealous.

My reply to him though? A photo of me in my bathrobe eating dinner, and a message that read: “I’ve spent all afternoon trying to find a vet for a street dog in Mumbai and am now tucking into a room-service curry before my flight home”

Don’t you think that’s slightly crazy and yet somehow magical? Two friends from the UK, living completely different lives at exactly the same moment. Him strolling around Naples eating authentic pizza, me dodging tuk-tuks to feed street dogs and ordering paneer and kachumber as though it’s something I eat every day.

And that, in a nutshell, is one of the things I love most about this job. One day you’re sat at home trying to decide what to watch on Netflix, and the next you’re halfway across the world, navigating a city you’ve never lived in, eating food you couldn’t pronounce ten years ago and having conversations you’d never have imagined.

But I know there will be some of you who are less interested in the food right now. Those of you who, like me, are slightly animal-obsessed and immediately locked onto the words “street dog”.

So let me fill you in on that...

Crew are generally a compassionate breed. We have to be. We spend most of our working lives looking after people, and for many of us that compassion extends naturally to animals too. Over the years I’ve heard countless stories of crew members caring for strays around the world. Cats in Antigua and Tel Aviv. Dogs in Delhi, and elephants in Kenya. And whenever it starts, it always seems to escalate remarkably quickly.

What begins with somebody sharing half a sandwich with a cute canine suddenly becomes a WhatsApp group, a fundraising effort, a veterinary appointment, and a small army of crew members carrying bags of dog food through airport security.

Imagine my embarrassment yesterday morning when my bag was selected for a search and the security agent pulled out pouch after pouch of Pedigree. He looked at me as though I had the world’s most bizarre dietary requirements.

Of course, I explained that the food was for the street dogs in Mumbai, but not before every other person behind me in the queue had watched my bag and its contents being sent back through the scanner for a second look.

But, I decided by then to just leave them guessing. Let them wonder what sort of diet the crazy airline lady is following this month.

The dogs certainly aren’t complaining, though. Because, for the little gang who live beneath the underpass near our hotel, it seems they have acquired an entire extended family of airline aunts and uncles.

They must have been thoroughly confused when it first started. Strange humans who didn’t look like the usual passers-by, turning up with treats and parcels of food that tasted considerably better than the scraps they were used to finding.

These days, though, they know exactly who we are.

The moment we cross the road they come running over, tails wagging furiously, eager to see what we’ve brought with us. Some of them even seem to recognise individual crew members, heading straight towards their particular favourites as if checking whether room service has arrived.

I can’t really blame them. If somebody kept appearing at my home with snacks every few weeks, I’d probably be pleased to see them too.

And they’ve multiplied too.

While much of Mumbai’s dog population has thankfully been neutered, that particular programme doesn’t seem to have fully reached our little corner yet, and there are now several youngsters amongst the regular gang, one of which caught my attention on this trip.

He seemed bright enough, but there was something not quite right about one of his ears.

They looked sore and inflamed, possibly infected, and once I’d noticed it… well, I couldn’t just turn a blind eye, could I?

I’d seen before that a few of the dogs wore collars, which made me assume they were being monitored by somebody. Perhaps a local rescue organisation, or a welfare programme of some sort. It seemed logical enough, so I decided to ask a tuk-tuk driver who was parked nearby if he knew.

“Sir, what does the collar mean?” I asked politely.

He grinned and shook his head from side to side.

“The crew, they feed them,”he said. “You are crew? You need ride later?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I’m crew, but no ride tonight, thank you.”

His English was limited, so I pointed to the rather grubby collar on the dog now sitting at my feet.

“What does this mean?” I asked again.

“Ahhh,” he nodded knowingly. “The crew, they put them on.”

Well. What was I supposed to say to that other than laugh?

I could hardly call him out on his bare faced lie, could I? Sir, if airline crew were responsible for accessorising Mumbai’s street dogs, I can assure you the collars would be considerably more extravagant than these. There would probably be matching sets, personalised name tags and a heated debate in the crew room over choices of colour and gems.

So, I simply smiled, thanked him for his time and left it there, deciding he had nothing sensible to say!

The puppy’s ear still bothered me though, and before I knew it, after a chat with the hotel concierge, I had disappeared down a complete internet rabbit hole trying to locate a local vet. One message became three messages, which became a social media post, which somehow became an entire network of flying animal lovers offering advice and pledges of more food coming.

The wonderful thing about animal people is that they seem to appear from nowhere whenever they are needed.

By the end of the afternoon, a vet had been found, the dogs had been fed, several people had offered to keep an eye over upcoming trips, and what had started as a passing concern about a puppy’s ear had somehow turned into a small community project.

I suppose that’s how these things happen. You notice one animal. Then you notice another and start bringing treats. You mention them to a few colleagues, who begin stopping by as well, and before long you’ve accidentally adopted an entire underpass.

The dogs certainly don’;t seem to mind the arrangement.

And so, with my good deed for the day complete, I’ve spent the past couple of hours enjoying the rather more luxurious side of layover life. I’ve squeezed in a small gym session, demolished an excellent curry platter from room service, and now find myself preparing for the journey home.

I always think there’s something satisfying about leaving a place feeling as though you’ve done a little good while you’ve been there. Even if it’s only filling a few hungry bellies and earning a couple of wagging tails.

And now, I should probably dig out my manual and at least attempt some revision, because it has just dawned on me that we also have the joy of inbound briefing questions this evening.

Normally, those little gems are reserved for the outbound sector, but whenever there’s a crew change, the company does like to keep us on our toes by throwing them into the flight home as well. And tonight, that is exactly what awaits us, because our four Indian crew live here. They are what we call ‘National crew’; they live at their home base and fly back and forth with us to London, but on a different rotation to our own layovers. We wave goodbye to one group on arrival and say hello to another on the way home.

And, they truly are a blessing. They don’t just bridge the language gap but, because they fly the same route repeatedly, they become absolute masters of it. Nothing seems to faze them.

One hundred special meals?

No problem.

Forty wheelchairs?

Easy.

They run the flight like a well-oiled machine, leaving those of us who only visit occasionally floating along in their calm wake and wondering what on earth we’d do without them.

So, I’ll forgive them for cursing us with extra briefing questions because they change over at outstations.

I’ll do a quick revision session on doors, drills and portable equipment and hope the manager lets us answer as a group, because nobody needs that kind of pressure at the start of a long night flight, do they?

Then we’ll load everyone up, put the kettles on, and begin the journey home.

I’ve downloaded a few things to watch in crew rest, my crossword app is primed and ready on the iPad, and if I’m lucky there may even be some excellent jumpseat gossip at three in the morning.

And If there is, I might just have to share it with The Red Eye.

For now though, I must dash.

The wake-up call is looming, pick-up follows an hour later, and of course we all have to be downstairs fifteen minutes early to settle bills and sort ourselves out. Honestly, it does seem as though one minute you’re checking in in London and the next, poof, your twenty-four-hour layover has vanished and you’re on your way back!

So, until next time, I’ll leave you with my thought for the month:

Wherever you find yourself, leave the hotel and see how other people, and the animals live.

And if you get the chance, do some good while you’re there. It will make you feel good too.

Much love,

Susan