I Cheated With a Hot French Guy On a Plane

I cheated on my dogs, that is. I made a complete fool of myself while doing it too, but it ended with a Frenchie riding in my lap from LAX to Denver so I weathered the humiliation.

It started when I saw this guy politely waiting at the gate.

Those ‘tocks were really calling me so I sidled up to his human and hopefully asked, “Do you guys have a seat companion yet?” (On Southwest, there are no assigned seats, you just take what you can get. It's a great way to make new seat buddies if you're interested in that sort of thing).

“Not yet, would you like to join us?” said the human that was traveling with this luscious little butter biscuit.

UHHHHHH…. Yes. Yes, I would very much like to join you.

“His name is Meatball.”

("squeeeeeee")

I crouched down to introduce myself to Meatball (I didn’t get around to introducing myself to his human until we were making our descent into Denver) but I forgot about the extra 12 pounds of Hubby’s bricks (metering equipment) that I was kindly sherpa-ing home in my backpack. So, when Meatball jumped at me with some sweet, sweet Frenchie love, I went down like Jennifer Lawrence at the Oscars, only I didn’t have Bradley Cooper to help me up.

We were at the front of the boarding line and I’d been making all kinds of ridiculous cooing and squealing noises at Meatball while dressed in an eye-melting, hot pink leopard print outfit. So, yeah…. everyone was watching as I was splayed out across the floor. Fortunately, I don’t embarrass easily. I just stayed there on the ground getting smothered in Meatball kisses.

When we boarded, Meatball and Meatball’s Human stayed true to their word and let me sit in the seat next to them. I’m pretty sure I caught a little hesitation, you know, a little avoidance of eye contact when I first got on the plane. Like maybe Human was hoping I’d already forgotten about the invitation. No such luck, human.

The next two hours was pure puppy love. That little chunk-nugget went back and forth from my lap to Mike’s lap (turns out the human’s name was Mike), with occasional forays onto Betty’s lap (Betty was the human who joined us in the window seat) and even made a few trips under the seat to visit the folks behind us. Mostly he just slept stretched across all our laps. Best. Flight. Ever.

This is exactly the kind of thing you never get to do with Great Danes. When I got home, after a thorough head-to-toe sniffing, the Danes declared my cheatin’ ass had a lot of ‘splaining to do…