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Mulder had his reservations about bringing the dog on the airplane with them. Every time he brought it up, Scully insisted she’d already called the airline and it would be fine. She had a carrier and while Mulder had been off cavorting with his Lizard-Man, she had been getting the dog checked out with a “legitimate” vet and made sure he had his shots. Mulder tried to tell her that traveling nowadays was different, and they couldn’t expect it to be easy, but Scully wouldn’t hear it.
While they waited for their flight, Mulder left his carry-on with Scully and went to use the restrooms. When he returned, a gate attendant was at the row of seats where Scully was and there was some sort of tense argument happening between the two of them that he instinctively knew had something to do with the dog. Scully was standing, her hands on her hips, the carrier was partially open at her feet and Daggoo’s nose poked through the opening.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this dog exceeds the maximum carry-on,” the gate attendant said. “And you don’t have the proper carrier for cargo.”
“This is non-negotiable,” Scully said, and Mulder could see her reaching for her badge. He quickly intervened.
“Hey,” he said, grasping Scully’s arm lightly and smiling at the attendant. He took a quick glance at the woman’s nametag. “Rachel, is it? What seems to be the problem?”
“Sir, as I was just telling your wife, this dog exceeds the maximum carry-on and can’t be brought on this plane.”
Scully interjected, “he’s not,” and Mulder raised his voice over hers to cut her off. “I’m sure as my wife was about to tell you,” he said, “she suffers from extreme anxiety, particularly on planes, and this animal is her emotional support dog.”
As Mulder spoke, he brought out a letter drafted and signed on the letterhead of Dr. Rumanovitch, declaring Daggoo to be certified as a therapy dog. He put his arm around Scully after handing Rachel the letter and gave her hip a very tight squeeze, urging her to keep her mouth shut.
“I need to speak with my supervisor,” Rachel said.
“That would be great,” Mulder said. “Thank you. Whatever you can do.”
As soon as Rachel turned her back to use the phone at her counter, Scully looked up at Mulder with question marks in her eyes. He shrugged at her and while he knew Scully was dying to interrogate him, at the very least she waited until Rachel was absorbed in her conversation, even though the attendant kept her eye on them, to open her mouth.
“Mulder!” she hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Aiding and abetting a criminal in moving stolen goods across state lines. You should be more appreciative, Scully, that’s a federal offense.”
“Well, you’ll just have to plead spousal privilege when you’re called to testify in court,” Scully said, sarcastically. “Since we’re apparently married.”
Mulder was about to make a crack about conjugal visits, but he could see Rachel coming back to them and tried to keep the grin off his face.
“Okay,” Rachel said, holding out the letter like a peace offering as she returned. Scully managed to snag it from her before Mulder could take it back. “I apologize for any inconvenience. Your dog may board the aircraft, but must be kept inside the carrier at all times.”
“You won’t even know he’s there,” Mulder said. “Thank you, Rachel. My wife certainly appreciates it. Don’t you, honey?”
“Sure thing, poopyhead.”
Mulder pulled Scully down into the plastic seats behind them and she read over the letter. “I can’t believe you,” she muttered.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Scully shook her head and flapped the letter at him. “And who the hell is Dr. Rumanovitch?”
“A very questionable psychologist with loose morals and a quick typist.”
“How did you even…I mean, why would you think…?”
Mulder shoved a hand inside his pocket and pulled out his phone. He pulled up his last Google search on flying with pets and flashed the screen at Scully. “The internet,” he said, “is in fact, a very good thing for your Mulder. You should try it some time.”
The End