Three doggies successfully delivered to San Francisco.
Apparently there was some tarmac-based delay and fuckwittedness on behalf of SFO airport and Air NZ at the other end, but my lovely Molly and her two new siblings, Higgons and Brissie-Koru, played their parts perfectly, including crossing their legs for 18 hours!
Rumour has it Molly has already shed her provincial Kiwi persona and, in a metamorphosis Madonna would no doubt be proud of, has reinvented herself as a hip, urbane chick.
Now that July has finally inched over into August (why does this year feel like doing backstroke through treacle?) we're only four months away from seeing her again.
Will she recognise us? Will she forgive us? Will I be able to leave her again? Yay, something else to torment myself with over the next few months.
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