Saying goodbye to your dearest, dearest... pet

Today was a tough day for me.
As we're going away for the holidays, we decided to leave our dog in a friend's house...
Buono is like an only child; everyone think he's spoiled... why wouldn't they?
If he drinks water, there's someone drying his whiskers with a paper towel; if he goes to the balcony... you know, to do his business, there is someone cleaning his paws; he even knocks the door to be let outside and knocks to be let back in again, he has his teeth cleaned every day, I cut his hair every week, he gets a bath as well and we use oatmeal shampoo for his skin... do you get the picture?
So you can imagine that when the time arrived to drive him to New Jersey, I started packing all his belongings (every dog has "belongings" of course!!); toys, brushes, shampoo, towels, food, platter, leash, tooth brush... should I go on?
If I say that we looked like gypsies, was to put it mildly.
The problem was that our best (and only) option to get to New Jersey was by train.
From our home to Penn Station is like 10 minutes taxi ride, but you can’t get in the taxi with a dog; so we opted for the subway.
My husband was holding a 20 pound bag of dog food and all of Buono’s knick knacks. I was carrying his cage and my purse.
We walked 3 blocks to Grand Central Terminal and arrived covered in sweat in the middle of the winter with a low temperature of 40 F (6 C). We got stuck in the door; it was closed… you know when you’re with someone for a really long time and you get to “learn” his or her signs? So there we were, standing in front of the door, rolling our eyes to each other to get the other person to open the door while neither of us was loosing the packages. (it looked like a staring contest! Where have all gentlemen gone?)
Then, we got to the turnstiles to enter the subway system. You have to swipe your card to get in, but I couldn’t even get to my pocket… and I wasn’t going to ask some stranger (that’ll be weird) to do it; so my husband left his bag in the floor and put his hand in my pocket (have you had that experience yet?) and I start: “not that one, the other side. Yeah! That one… to the left, no… down a bit, you missed, to the right… there!” While doing this I was moving my hips at the rhythm of his hands to help him find the card (really… truly) although I think we invented a new spastic move for foreplay.
At last he found it and we went through… we and all our packages.
Next move: get to the train and find a seat; my arms were killing me!!!
It was Sunday, raining, the subway was replete with people, we were gypsies in a circus and my patience was non-existent.
Buono, in the other hand, was comfortable enough in his cage, pretty exited to be outside, watching everything around him… lucky bastard!
Saying goodbye to him was horrible… nearing traumatic… he, on the other hand, stayed completely happy with his two new dog friends, a big house, lots of room to play and his food.
Can I blame him? He will have 3 weeks vacation from his owner, the one with the bach flowers drops, the life coach and the beauty crisis… enjoy while it last!!