The Abra Dog Vienna Blog Takeover
An Exclusive Interview with a Globe-Trotting Cockapoo
After arriving in Vienna, Malika and I sat down — and rolled over — for an interview with Abra, a ten-pound cockapoo who recently relocated to Europe from Virginia.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity — and to remove instances where Abra was distracted by Viennese pigeons.
Malika and Rob: Thank you, Abra, for taking time out of your day to talk to us.
Abra: No problem. Is this going to take long? I’m still experiencing jet lag and have no idea what time it is.
M&R: No, it shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.
Abra: Great. Let’s get—oh, a bird—
M&R: How did you prepare for your move abroad?
Abra: I read a lot of articles about endurance running.
M&R: Endurance running?
Abra: That’s right. If you’re going to run a marathon, you can’t just go outside and, like, run a marathon. You need to build up stamina.
M&R: I’m not sure we follow.
Abra: Vienna is a nine-hour flight. You can’t just crawl into a travel crate, get cozy underneath a seat, and sleep for nine hours. You need to work yourself up to it.
M&R: I see. So you practiced?
Abra: That’s right. I flew to Wisconsin twice. Round trip both times.
M&R: So four total flights before you flew to Vienna?
Abra: Exactly.
M&R: And what was that first flight experience like?
Abra: Stressful. My hoomans — that’s what I call them — practiced with me a lot. We tested out a couple of travel crates at home and they found these delicious treats, Snarfies, that I absolutely love to chomp chomp chomp on. They’re like beef jerky for dogs. Very crunch. Very flavorful.
M&R: Sounds great.
Abra: They are. And it’s not like they’re sponsoring me or anything — the people at Snarfies. They’re just that good.
M&R: Anyway.
Abra: Anyway. So we tested the travel crates, practiced carrying me around the apartment and the hallway.
M&R: And?
Abra: Nothing prepares you, exactly, for the first time you arrive at the airport.
M&R: Overwhelming?
Abra: To say the least. My hoomans made the mistake of taking me out of my travel crate so I could, you know, go to the bathroom outside. And did I want to get back inside my crate? I did not. They had to tip the crate and, like, drop me inside. I tried to scratch my way out. Animal instinct and all. The wolf is still there, deep inside me.
M&R: Wow.
Abra: I also made sounds like a whale.
M&R: A whale?
Abra: You know.
M&R: Oh, so very vocal, then.
Abra: I just wanted people to know that I was there.
M&R: Have you ever been left behind before?
Abra: No, but you can’t be too careful.
M&R: True.
Abra: From there, you’ve got the TSA line, with all these people and their interesting smells. There’s this dog relief area with AstroTurf and a plastic fire hydrant.
M&R: That’s a nice feature.
Abra: I guess so.
M&R: Let’s jump ahead to the flight. How was that?
Abra: Here’s the thing.
M&R: Uh-oh.
Abra: No, it was fine. I like car rides. My hoomans and I like to go on long road trips. We’ve driven to and from Wisconsin — I honestly don’t know how many times. I just sleep in my big crate in the backseat. But I do this funny thing. It’s not ha-ha funny but I think it’s funny.
M&R: Yes?
Abra: Every time my hoomans slow down — like at an off ramp or if there’s traffic — I start to do my whale sounds again. I guess it’s kind of my way of going, “Hey, I’m back here, don’t forget about me!”
M&R: And did that happen on the plane?
Abra: It did. There were lots of noises to listen to when I got underneath the seat — the sound of people settling in, the crashing noise of the overhead bins as they closed. And, of course, there were plenty of Snarfies to eat. And once we were in the air, with the engines rumbling, I was as calm as a snoozing horse. But once we landed —
M&R: The whale sounds?
Abra: The whale sounds.
Two days before Abra’s second flight to Wisconsin, she went to her local veterinarian for a routine teeth cleaning appointment. It was supposed to be a weekend of pampering — pearly whites, a grooming appointment the next morning, a flight to Milwaukee on Sunday.
But it didn’t turn out that way.
M&R: We heard a rumor about dental surgery?
Abra: Don’t get me started.
M&R: How about a brief synopsis?
Abra: I was asleep for most of it. Under general anesthesia.
M&R: You had a teeth cleaning scheduled?
Abra: With the possibility of an extraction or two, yes. But my vet, Dr. Ganesh, told me that she’d only take the teeth if it was absolutely necessary. She’s a great vet and we trust her judgement, even if I hide underneath the couch when I visit her.
M&R: So you had one or two teeth pulled?
Abra: I had seven, actually.
M&R: Seven teeth?
Abra: The little ones. The incisors on the top and bottom. I have an underbite — I had an underbite. It was kind of my thing. A defining feature.
M&R: But the teeth weren’t good anymore?
Abra: No, so they had to go. My canines are still healthy, though! And now my mouth looks like a lion’s! Plus, my breath no longer smells, so that’s a plus now that I’m hitting the Viennese dating scene.
M&R: Dating scene?
Abra: Next question!
M&R: OK. So you had seven teeth out two days before your second flight to Wisconsin? What about your grooming appointment?
Abra: Cancelled. My hoomans are the best.
M&R: Great. But you were probably a little —
Abra: High? Yes. I was high as a kite on that flight. Don’t tell TSA.
M&R: We won’t. And probably no Snarfies since they’re crunchy?
Abra: Beat me to the punch. I couldn’t eat a single Snarfie.
M&R: But you did OK?
Abra: Well, you’re interviewing me in Vienna, aren’t you?
As part of her relocation to Vienna, Abra had to return to her veterinarian — again — for an exam and health certificate to move abroad. Her name and destination were noted on a dry erase board behind the reception desk, ranked in order of appointment time with dogs and cats traveling to places like Germany, Japan, and Congo.
Her health certificate was certified by the USDA and her veterinary clinic before she was cleared to fly. Upon arrival in Vienna, she was not required to quarantine.
M&R: You flew on Austrian Air?
Abra: That’s right.
M&R: First class.
Abra: In a sense, yes. I flew in the cabin with my hoomans.
M&R: Wow. And were they in first class?
Abra: Hardly.
M&R: Economy plus, I hope.
Abra: You would think.
M&R: Basic economy?
Abra: Here’s the thing. If you’re flying internationally with a pet in the cabin, it turns out you can’t upgrade your seat. The pet must fly in basic economy.
M&R: That sounds discriminatory.
Abra: That’s what I said.
M&R: And yet?
Abra: No wiggle room on that policy. Or in the seat, for that matter.
M&R: It wasn’t really that bad, was it?
Abra: No, not really. It turns out my hoomans purchased an extra seat just for me. They were able to put me on the seat during the flight, and even secretly switched me from a smaller-sized travel crate to a larger one so I would have extra leg room.
M&R: So you got more leg room than them?
Abra: Keep your voices down. That isn’t something they like to talk about.
After a thankfully uneventful flight aboard Austrian Airlines, Abra visited the customs desk in Vienna to formally declare her residency. The paperwork prepared by Dr. Ganesh and Abra’s loving friends at the Ballston Animal Hospital was filled out correctly! After a stamp of approval and formal entrance into the country, it was time for a bathroom break. She’d held her bladder for the entire flight, the customs check-in, and even the baggage area. While her tall hooman (that’s Rob) waited for a taxi, Abra and her short hooman (Malika) went off in search of a tree and some grass.
M&R: We heard a story that you were — twice — called the calmest dog someone had ever seen. Is this true?
Abra: Totally true.
M&R: Would you care to elaborate?
Abra: Sure. My tall hooman and I dropped off our rental car in Virginia —
M&R: So this was before you arrived in Vienna?
Abra: Hey, you can’t expect a girl to be calm when she’s so excited to be an ex-pet?
M&R: Isn’t it ex-pat?
Abra: That was a joke!
M&R: OK, jeez.
Abra: So, we drop off the rental car in Virginia and we’re on the shuttle to Dulles and I’m just chilling. You remember me telling you how much I love car rides.
M&R: We do.
Abra: And then, once we’re in the airport, he and I are in the elevator, which we call the friend box, and —
M&R: Wait. Why do you call an elevator a friend box?
Abra: Because we’ve lived in high-rises my entire life and that’s where I meet friends.
M&R: Cute. And someone in the friend box called you the calmest dog they’d ever seen?
Abra: Two people, actually.
M&R: Wow, what a compliment.
Abra: It would’ve been!
M&R: Except?
Abra: Except my hooman joked and said it was because I was on drugs!
M&R: Thankfully TSA wasn’t around!
Abra: We were just lucky we had TSA pre-check!
While the hoomans go in search of an apartment suitable for this family of three, Abra stays behind at their short-term rental. It’s a sort of extended stay, albeit European style, with a micro-kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The bedroom window overlooks the canal — the water is a faded emerald green and snakes through several of the city’s easternmost districts.
M&R: What are you most looking forward to about living in Vienna?
Abra: The weather, probably.
M&R: It’s not as humid.
Abra: It was sixty degrees this morning! Perfect for a girl in a fur coat.
M&R: Anything else?
Abra: I hear the chicken here is outstanding.
M&R: Sounds like you’re all set. Anything you’ll miss about Virginia?
Abra: All my friends who love me and give me scritches. And my family in Wisconsin who absolutely would’ve let me stay — I’ve even heard rumors of adoption requests.
M&R: They wanted to keep you?
Abra: Yes, but I like being with my hoomans.
M&R: Any final musings?
Abra: A bed anywhere is a bed everywhere.
M&R: Powerfully stated.
Abra: I thought so, too.
Abra interviews very well. She is so funny and might be very busy soon on the talk show circuit!
I love our baby girl and am so proud of her patience. Good job Fluffaroni!