My Trip to Europe Day #7

08/20/2022 The next morning or the morning after, astonished by the presa canario's temperament at only 6 weeks old, I found myself talking to the puppy with a slur similar to Flynn, AKA Walter White Jr., from Breaking Bad. I was over planning my return and trying to think of a name for the puppy. I temporarily named the dog, "Kobe." The name was two syllables, sounded good and my prime piece of Kobe beef was going to be the next Kobe Bryant once we got back to the USA.

I was finally able to get better information on the type of bag needed to carry the baby puppy on the plane. It had to be mesh with certain dimensions.

I found one at the Diszallat Kutsera pet store near the airport but it had awkward wheels to roll it around, which also would make fitting the bag under my seat difficult. The shop owner lent me some tools and I went to work on the bag's feet. Sleep deprived and nervouse about getting on my flight, I felt like an Al-Qaeda as I frantically cut through the metal frame and snapped the wheels off. I had to remind myself that I was an American in Europe with allies. I paid for the modified bag and headed back to the airport. If I stopped in Switzerland on my way back to Rome... only God and Forrest Gump know. I vaguely remember the words, "Fly Forrest, Fly..."

Back in Rome... what probably happened is another night in the airport before being told that I could not bring the dog across the Atlantic Ocean.