There is an expression in Japanese, 「ウサギの昼寝」(usagi no hirune, “a rabbit nap”). It describes a moment of carelessness that leads to unexpected misfortune. It was a rabbit nap that caused the speedy hare to lose his race against the tortoise in Aesop’s timeless fable, and it was a figurative rabbit nap that caused a lot of trouble for my friend Guy Cocques-Jean. Remember him? Cooped up during the COVID years and 孤独感に襲われて (kodoku-kan ni osowarete, beset by feelings of isolation), he decided to bid Japan a bittersweet farewell.

One of the first steps in leaving Japan was 断捨離 (danshari, decluttering), which literally means, “deciding, disposing and distancing.” Guy threw out or gave away almost everything he owned, but there were a few things he had to take with him — like his pet rabbit. In Japanese, you often see pets described using the kanji for “love,” which is 愛 (ai). Someone’s “beloved dog” can be called their 愛犬 (aiken), their “beloved cat” would be their 愛猫 (aibyō) and, yes, some people refer to their “beloved car,” or 愛車 (aisha). In Guy’s case, his pet was definitely an 愛兎 (aito, “beloved rabbit”).

Thankfully, it is much easier to travel with a rabbit than, say, a Bernese mountain dog. Guy had done his homework, and he knew that there was no 輸入検疫 (yunyū ken’eki, quarantine on arrival) necessary in the case of rabbits. Unlike dogs and cats, which sometimes need to spend weeks or months under observation in a new country, rabbits were essentially 持ち込み自由 (mochi-komi jiyū, freely importable). In fact, Guy had chosen to get a rabbit for this exact reason; he knew he might someday leave Japan.

This is not to say that there weren’t hoops to jump through or 必要な手続き (hitsuyōna tetsuzuki, necessary procedures) for taking a rabbit on an airplane. For one thing, there was a special surcharge, called the ペット料金 (petto ryōkin, “pet fee”), and most airlines required advance notice and a specific 申請書 (shinseisho, application form) with details like the animal’s breed, age and weight.

There was also the matter of the pet carrier, or ペットクレート (petto kurēto). Guy needed one that would fit underneath his seat. This was important because rabbits are ストレスに弱い (sutoresu ni yowai, susceptible to stress) and Guy wanted to be able to keep an eye on the little guy. But this is where Guy encountered the first of several 思いがけない問題 (omoigakenai mondai, unexpected problems).

In late 2020, the International Air Transport Association (IATA) revised its guidelines regarding pets in the airplane cabin. Up until then, most 小型動物 (kogata dōbutsu, small animals) could be taken onboard like any piece of luggage. However, this system was abused: People around the world boarded with all sorts of animals, including pigs, pythons and peacocks. By 2021, most airlines were fed up, and they revised their rules so that anything but cats and dogs was 機内持ち込み不可 (kinai mochikomi fuka, impossible to take onboard). As Guy was told during a stressful call with customer service, that meant rabbits, too.

Guy was shaken by this news, but he rebooked his ticket and arranged to have his loyal lagomorph ride in the 貨物室 (kamotsushitsu, luggage bay). It wasn’t ideal, but he trusted his airline to keep his rabbit safe (and he was reassured to know that very few pets have actually died aboard airplanes).

On the day of his international flight, Guy arrived at the airport four hours early. He had the usual suitcases, plus one furry companion, which he took to the check-in desk. With the border restrictions lifted, the international terminal was thronged by travelers. He waited in line for 30 minutes before an attendant noticed the carrier in his arms.

「犬ですか？」(Inu desu ka?, Is that a dog?) she asked, approaching.

「あ、ええと、ウサギなんですけど」(A, ēto, usagi nan-desu kedo, Ah, uh, it’s a rabbit) said Guy.

「うさちゃんですね、分かりました。検疫はすでにお済ませになっていますよね？」(Usa-chan desu ne, wakarimashita. Ken’eki wa sude ni o-sumase ni natte-imasu yo ne?) she responded, which means, “Oh, a rabbit! Got it. And you’ve already taken it through quarantine, right?”

「検疫？」(Ken’eki?, Quarantine?) replied Guy.

「はい、出発の場合は検疫が必要になります」(Hai, shuppatsu no ba’ai wa ken’eki ga hitsuyō ni narimasu, Yes. You will need to take it for inspection), she said, adding, 「だいたい2、3時間かかりますが、飛行機はいつですか？」(Daitai ni, san-jikan kakarimasu ga, hikōki wa itsu desu ka?, It typically takes a couple hours. When is your flight?)

Guy hurriedly received directions to the 検疫所 (ken’eki-jo, quarantine office), and he raced there, suitcases skipping behind him. The attendant had called ahead, and he was expected. He was led to a small back room, where he had a very stressful exchange.

“Oh, what a cutie,” said the quarantine officer. “All right, we’ll bring him to the back.”

“And, uh, roughly how long is the inspection likely to take?” asked Guy, whose flight was in just under three hours.

「２日後にお迎えに来てください」 (Futsuka-go ni o-mukae ni kite kudasai, You can pick him up in two days), answered the officer promptly. Guy’s knees went slack.

Needless to say, Guy did not make his flight. As he learned that day, rabbits are easy to take into most countries, but Japan has particular laws about 輸出検疫 (yushutsu ken’eki, quarantine on departure). Guy had never thought to check something like that. So, he had to rebook his ticket again, and he spent a few days in a nearby business hotel. Those extra expenses certainly hurt, but what hurt worse was the knowledge that it all could have been avoided, if not for his own ウサギの昼寝.