On Monday, we loaded a 20′ container with what was left of our material possessions after selling what we could on Craigslist and dropping the rest off at Goodwill. Today is the day of the big relocation and we are waiting in the Miami airport because our flight to Point-à-Pitre returned to Miami after taking off because of unspecified mechanical troubles. So, as we sit here drinking double vodka orange juices, a flood of fears and unanswered questions engulf my brain. . . things that any normal person would want to know when he or she is about to embark on a journey of a lifetime to a foreign land. For example, will I find a doctor to do my Botox at a decent price? How will I survive without Amazon Prime? Will there be freshly roasted coffee beans available within a 20 km radius or will I never again be able to achieve the perfect crema? Will Rex, the soon-to-be island dingo, relieve himself in the neighbors’ yards and hurt our chances of a decent social life? All of this stress and mental strain have necessitated the utransformation of our very own pooch from just an eating and pooping machine into a true hero and productive citizen of the community. Rex is now an officially registered and trained Emotional Support Animal. The psychological issues he alleviates is beyond words and I am…for possibly the first time…speechless.