I think everyone knows about the American Customs. Since the war on terror nothing comes through customs except customers and if they’re lucky their suit cases. Absolutely nothing dangerous and no food but worst offence of all is dangerous food. There are signs up everywhere, I saw them. There was to be no importing of fresh, uncooked, cooked or really any meat, fruit, veg – nothing. Well, actually I think Pringles were all right but they’re not actually a food are they. Reading between the lines it was probably saying, “We have loads of bloody food. Don’t bring food into the USA (& God Bless America) and I was really OK with all of this.
When we landed, the first thing to pick up after the cases was the dog. I went to the large cargo reclaim area and there to my amazement was not one but three dog transport boxes. Hogan had two buddies for the flight. I had no idea there were so many high flying pooches. The other two were smaller and a good deal calmer. Hogan was standing up in his box, barking furiously and trying to eat his way through the metal cage door. He actually looked madder in an insane (rabies carrying) sort of way than I had ever seen him before. I knew he was slightly claustrophobic because he always has been. We assumed that he was locked up as a puppy but being a rescue we know nothing about his past and can only guess. But other than his claustrophobia he is a perfectly wonderful dog. Well, except for that moment in time. I was genuinely worried that the customs guys were going to shoot him. He looked like a mad dog. I tried to sooth him but he wasn’t interested. He just wanted out of the box, which I wasn’t aloud to do until we were out of the airport. I handed the baby to my husband and casually pushed the dog’s box towards the final customs check, trying to ignore the rabid dog inside.
Each child had a case that went through one final security check. The airport police dogs sniffed for cocaine, Kalashnikovs and any other sundries but I was relieved that they were happy to ignore my now howling hound. Just as we were about to go through one of the senior customs guys called me over. This was it; they were going to shoot Hogan on sight.
“This yours?” he asked suspiciously. One of the sniffers and found my M&S picnic bag. I had forgotten all about the surprise gift from my aunt. She had packed all sorts of goodies for the flight which I have to say were very tasty but there was much too much food. I had planned to dump it but forgot and so it was still travelling with us – full of illegal substances. He pulled out the half eaten sandwiches with a look of disgust and dumped it in a bin at his feet. Then using a tongs even though he was wearing surgical gloves already, he pulled out some lovely fresh wild Irish salmon and looked at me accusingly. I’m going to jail for a year, I thought manically but smiled weakly - Hogan all the while growling and snarling. “You know it’s illegal to import food like this” he said. “I’m so sorry. It was for the flight,” I grovelled. “I meant to dump it,” I added remembering a similar line had been used by a real bad guy in CSI on the telly, just the week before.
Then he pulled out my tub of hummus. Now I was going down for a few years for sure. The baby began to cry and Hogan looked like he was going to break the dog box open any minute.
Nothing was going to rush this man, however. He had a very serious job to do and he was going to protect America at all costs. With the aid of his tweezers, he retrieved a live yoghurt from the picnic bag. Even I knew they carried l acasai immunitas. That was it; I was probably going straight out to Guantanamo bay. My husband would have to go on without me. What a start to our new life.
“Who packed this bag?” he asked accusingly. For a split second I thought about lying and saying it was me. If they went after my old aunt at home, it would kill her but then I saw his gun and I knew that honesty was really the only option.
“It was my Aunt Liz,” I explained. “She wanted to do it as a going away present.”
“Yeah?” he said, taking out a pen and paper. Jesus, he really was going after her – more mad barking.
“Guess, she really loves you guys,” he said with a smile slowly spreading over his face and reaching right up to his eyes. “Now get that dog outa here.”
Then I almost fell over as he winked at me and laughed. “and Welcome to America,” he said, handing me back my M&S bag (with the salmon inside!)
