Before my wife met me, she had Hannah, her cat. Hannah was a chonky feline with little use for me. If I got too close to her, she would let out a low growl to say, “that’s close enough, interloper.” When it had been just the two of them, my wife often took Hannah along on business trips and visits home to her family ranch where Hannah was born. They were experienced travelers.

Soon after my wife and I married, we went to her family’s for Christmas, bringing Hannah along. On our return trip, when we arrived at the little home town airport we went through security. I went first without a problem. As always, my wife took Hannah out of her carrier, put the carrier through the x-ray, and walked Hannah through the metal detector, the latter’s dark fur billowing over my wife’s arms as they went through.

So, at this little airport, the metal detector went off. The TSA agent sent my wife with Hannah back, then they tried again. The metal detector went off again. They then ran a wand over my wife holding Hannah, and the signal spiked when it was over the cat. At this point my wife put Hannah down on a table near the conveyor belt. The TSA agent then tried to wand my wife, who was reaching with one hand on Hannah to keep her still, and the wand came up with nothing. Because she was leaning a bit to reach her cat, the wand wasn’t quite able to scan my wife’s neck, where she had a necklace. That didn’t seem to register with the agent.

In any case, my wife thinks, OK, it’s over we can move on, but the TSA agent held up her hand and called her supervisor over to confer. I couldn’t make out all of what they were saying, but the supervisor finally said, “frisk the cat.”

My wife’s eyes got wide. The TSA agent looked at Hannah with trepidation. She asked my wife if the cat will bite. My wife said, “This is a scared creature about to be handled by a stranger. So, probably, yeah.” The TSA agent looked at her supervisor, who motioned to the cat.

I’m watching this from a little bit of a distance, knowing that Hannah wouldn’t let me handle her in a million years, and wondering, “What, exactly are they expecting to find?” Hannah, as I said was a big furball. Maybe they figured they would find a zipper on the fur to reveal…I don’t know, a smaller cat inside?

The agent, gloves donned, with her boss looking on from a safe distance, began gingerly pawing Hannah who began to growl. The agent backed off, and looked at her boss again, who signaled her to finish the pat down. My wife was trying to keep Hannah calm, but the supervisor warned her not to interfere with the procedure. Somehow, the TSA agent got away without being clawed or bitten, and hurriedly told my wife she was free to go.

When my wife reached me, she shook her head and said, “Yeah, that was unnecessary.” I checked on Hannah inside her case. She growled.

Edit/post-script:

Here is Hannah with the only person who could cradle her like that. Note the “other people’s attention is not welcome” look in her eyes. I actually miss the cantankerous critter.