Joy in the cabin

 Zara had learned to keep a suitcase packed at all times.

Running Zen with Zara meant her days blurred across cities, conferences, and airports where her name was often mispronounced and her purpose misunderstood.

The only constant was Joy.

An old golden retriever with soft eyes and the quiet understanding of someone who’d seen you fall apart—and stay anyway.

The week of the Soft Armor Summit, Zara tried everything to find a sitter. Nothing worked. The conference was too important to postpone.

That’s when she looked at Joy’s leash and thought:

Maybe she doesn’t need to stay behind.

She felt a spark of relief—immediately followed by doubt.

Are pets even allowed on private jets?

In her mind, she pictured the myth: immaculate cabins where nothing shed, barked, or curled up at your feet.

But she asked anyway.

The operator’s reply came quickly:

“Yes, of course. Many travelers fly with their dogs. We’ll have water, treats, and a soft blanket ready.”

Zara read the message twice.

That evening, she boarded with Joy trotting beside her—tail high, eyes bright.

No stares. No judgment. Just a cabin where she and her best friend belonged.

Because sometimes, safety doesn’t mean traveling alone.

It means knowing your joy is welcome.