Once I booked our flights, I was contacted by a concierge who asked about Hugo: his personality traits, his likes and dislikes, his vaccination records, his play style, his preferred music, and whether he likes the car windows up or down on the ride to the airport—which, in one of the many brilliant moments of minimizing pain points for the pet-toting traveler, they will also arrange. On travel day, we were picked up by a chauffeur (sign reading “Hugo,” radio playing the Beach Boys) and arrived at the treat-filled terminal in Van Nuys for check-in, where it was immediately clear where to go based on the wagging tails.
The writer and Hugo prepared to board their Bark Air flight.
Photo: Courtesy of Alessandra Codinha
Inside the terminal a certified dog trainer kept an eye out, observing the attitudes and interactions of all the four-legged passengers in order to decide where they should be situated on the plane (dogs that show signs of overexcitement or aggression are separated, for example) and foster a seamless travel experience. “I take this flight twice a year, to take my dog to our place in Long Island and back,” one of my fellow passengers, an older gentleman with a small poodly type dog tells me, “and it’s the best, because everyone is so nice.” He waved his hands expansively. “You know, it’s all dog people.” I do know: There’s a certain camaraderie among the openly canine obsessed. You can really relax when you’re not worried your dog might rub up against someone who doesn’t want it or, ahem, drool on their leg while they’re eating their chicken Caesar wrap on board (not that Hugo or I know anything about such behavior).
A Bark Air Pup Passport.
Photo: Courtesy of Bark Air
Inside Bark Air’s Pup Passport.
Photo: Courtesy of Bark Air
Prior to boarding, passengers are given Bark Puppy Passports, preprinted with their dogs’ photos, and a handwritten ticket that has the order in which they will board the plane. We formed a merry parade of wiggling tails across the tarmac, pausing for a photo opportunity by the plane’s steps before a quick climb on board. All dogs are harnessed and seat-belted to their owners’ chairs for takeoff and landing, but if there is a nervous or snappy pup on board, one of the Bark concierges tells me, they have an array of fixes: calming treats, noise-cancelling ear muffs, a snoodlike pullover called a happy hoodie, and, in more extreme cases, gentle muzzles. Several of my fellow travelers (a mix of summer vacationers and those making more long-term relocations to the East Coast and beyond) confess that they have doped their dogs with a sedative, and we all discuss the merits of Gabapentin (lighter) versus the far more effective Trazodone. (Hugo, by nature mellow to a fault, has not taken any drugs, but happily accepts some melatonin calming chews during takeoff, likely because they are meat flavored.) A drugged shih-tzu-looking mix stares hazily into the middle distance between his owner and my seats for the next five hours straight, including for a photo opp in which he is adorned with a small blue captain’s hat.
