Welcome to the Wednesday Cats of Catster! Every week, we share a story from one of our cat-loving Catsters. This week is about Isabel and her sassy rescue, Milly.

Flying is fun, exciting, and maybe a little bit nerve-wracking for some people. I mean, you are boarding a 442-ton metal contraption cruising through the sky at 580 mph roughly 40,000 feet off the ground – no biggy.

Flying can be really fear-inducing for some. I travel between Johannesburg and Cape Town quite often, so I’ve become used to it by now. Of course, I have my fears about traveling by air, but I wouldn’t say that I’m scared of flying. That was until I had to travel by air with Milly, my sassy rescue cat, while she was in the cargo hold…

Why Milly Had to Fly Cargo

Nothing quite stresses a cat owner out like discovering that at the time, all domestic airlines in South Africa didn’t allow cats to travel in the cabin of the aircraft, with the exception of service, psychiatric, or emotional support animals. I knew from the start that this would be an intense experience for the both of us, but discovering this information made me fully realize that this was going to be much more intense than I expected initially…

If you read last month’s article where I introduced myself and Milly, you’ll remember that I rescued Milly while I was a student in Potch (Potchefstroom) in 2018. This was in the North West Province, about 77 miles (124 km) from Johannesburg. We frequently drove to Joburg from Potch for the weekend to visit my family with Milly in the car. She eventually got used to that after multiple hellish trips, but that’s a story for another time.

Anyway, I graduated in 2019 and had to move back to Johannesburg with Milly. My partner (and Milly’s dad) lived in Cape Town, about 868 miles (1,396.7km) from Johannesburg. In 2020 (mid Covid-19 pandemic) I decided to move to Cape Town. I decided to go without Milly first, so I could find us a nice home and scope things out before bringing her over because I knew it wouldn’t be easy. So off I went.

Fast forward to 2022, I felt settled in and finally ready to import my little rescue cat from Joburg. I missed her terribly and although I went to visit her a couple of times during these two years in Cape Town, I longed to have her by my side and see her every day. Yes, I am obsessed.

I booked one ticket from Cape Town to Johannesburg and two tickets back to Cape Town, one for me and one for Milly. I used PetLounge, a division of BidAir Cargo. Their reviews were better than some of the other pet transport companies I researched and their prices didn’t make me want to cancel the whole mission completely, so I went with them. They were really friendly and caring and even offered me tissues when I cried hysterically throughout almost the whole process.

The Flight: A Tale of 10 Panic Modes

Our flight was around 8 am and it was recommended to arrive 2 hours prior. Milly, my father, and I arrived at the airport at 6 am. It was still dark and very quiet at Lanseria International Airport (it’s a smaller airport in Joburg). It was spooky being there so early, and we were the only people in front of the Pet Lounge. The consultant arrived a couple of minutes after us.

Oh, and Milly almost escaped from her carrier when we climbed out of the car, so we started off great! The crying commenced here. Panic mode activated. Luckily, she had her harness on. So when she succeeded in pushing the roof of the carrier just high enough for the little white door to jump out of its compartment and fling wide open, I could hold her close while I tried to MacGyver the carrier to hold until we got inside of the Pet Lounge. Thankfully, she isn’t a runner. But Milly in an open carrier in the dark, misty airport parking lot is enough to make me nearly pass out. Which thankfully I didn’t. Not even when I saw her get loaded into the cargo hold through the airport windows.

We managed to get both of us safely inside the Pet Lounge. My dad wasn’t allowed in because it was still Covid-19 and he forgot to grab his mask at home. (Do you remember the masks? It actually just feels like a fever dream now…)

Panic Mode: 5/10

Anyway, I proceeded to fill out all the forms, and we transferred Milly from her regular carrier into the aircraft-certified pet carrier so we could weigh the whole shebang. She was in mild distress during this whole process, which took about 45 minutes. I was in 5/10 panic mode at this point. The aircraft-certified carrier was nice and big with huge locks and things, so that made me feel a little more at ease. It was fitted with puppy pads and a bowl for water. No food.

Panic Mode: 6/10

After all the formalities, we got to chill in a closed-off, air-conditioned room with a couch and access to an outdoor area with grass. Cats also had a little room with litterboxes, which Milly had zero interest in. One of the consultants gave my dad a disposable mask so he could come inside and be with us. The guy probably saw me slowly moving into 6/10 panic mode and thought I could use the moral support.

At this point, Milly was just alternating between nervously pacing around the room, sitting underneath a table, and accompanying me on the couch for brief windows of time before starting to pace again. She also panted occasionally, which meant that she was very stressed. This, of course, made me very stressed, which made her more stressed because she sensed my stress, which then made me more stressed in return. Loads of fun.

Panic Mode: 7/10

I tried to take her outside to see if she wanted to pee on the grass (she prefers grass over litter) but it was dark and gloomy and I saw some openings in the fence and I just decided it was a hard “NOPE.” Milly hadn’t done her business at this point. She was scared and confused, obviously. So, I was worried about that, too. It preluded panic mode 7/10 beautifully, just in time for the consultant to come into the room and announce that it was time to load Milly and get onboard.

Panic Mode: 8/10

Panic mode 8/10 came earlier than anticipated, and let me tell you why! I now had to leave Milly in a container with strangers and go board the flight. All I could think of was how scared, confused, and overwhelmed she must have been, especially when she didn’t see me outside the metal door anymore. Of course, every single worst scenario played out in detail in my head while I walked to my boarding gate, ugly crying all the way.

Airports are extremely loud places, and cats have a good sense of hearing. I just know Milly was going through the absolute most. I felt guilty and worried and annoyed at everyone gawking at me carrying an empty carrier (the one she arrived in and almost escaped from) and sobbing like a child.

I stood in the queue to board the plane and watched the cargo truck stop and offload a couple of items by the plane. Prams, wheelchairs, and Milly! I recognized the airline-certified carrier, and there weren’t any other pets on this flight. It was her. My pofhoendertjie (one of my many Afrikaans nicknames for her, which loosely translates to fuzzy chicken).

Panic Mode: 9/10

You guessed it, panic mode 9/10 activated. I couldn’t hold back my tears. A couple of people actually asked me if I was okay. Bless their hearts. I was, in fact, not okay. The flight wasn’t long, roughly 2 hours, which felt like seven. I just watched a reality show (my guilty pleasure) and tried my best not to make overly loud sobbing sounds while I gently cried throughout the entire flight.

Panic Mode: 10/10

Finally, we landed in Cape Town and my heart yearned for Milly. To hold her, comfort her, and see if she was okay. I basically sprinted off the plane and out of the arrival gates and met up with my partner. We now had to locate Milly somewhere in Cape Town International Airport. It was at the cargo department, where regular flyers seldomly go. You wouldn’t believe it, but panic mode 10/10 had actually made its way to the party during this search for Milly.

You’ll have to tune in next time to hear the rest of this story and how long it took for her to settle into a completely new home and life. If you’ve actually read this far, well done, and thank you! You can catch a new story from me and Milly every month on Catster.com.

Cheers vir eers!

(cheers for now)