By the way, United has the worst U.S. record on pet deaths, too

When my cat, Arnold, who was a domestic shorthair, was alive, I flew regularly with him. We were lucky. I found flight attendants and baggage handlers attentive and kind. He always traveled in a large kennel, so I had to check him as baggage. But I kept the kennel with me as long as I could, sometimes taking it with me to the departure gate before surrendering it to the agents. (This was in the days before 9/11.) Once, as I sat at the gate with Arnold, flight attendants there told me just to bring him on board since the flight wasn't crowded. (Again — these were the good old days.) They said they'd find a place to stash the kennel. I boarded, handed over the kennel, and found my seat in coach. After we were in flight, an attendant came by to tell me they had found a good place for him — they had strapped his kennel into an empty seat in first class. I wanted to ask if Arnold and I could change places.