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When, two years ago now, our dog sitters cancelled on us just 24 hours before we were due to go on our summer holiday, we felt more than a little put out. Aware that we couldn’t leave Missy, our border terrier, home alone with a tin opener, we sent out frantic texts and made urgent phone calls before at last finding someone, a friend of a friend of, I think, another friend, and simply hoped for the best. What else were we to do? The flights were non-refundable.
It all turned out fine, but it was not an experience we were keen to repeat. And so, the following year, we took Missy with us. Dogs are portable, after all, and have a nose for adventure. Also, this was to be an extended holiday, away for a full month – working part time in order to fund it – and we couldn’t be apart from her for that long.
Missy had grown bored with our local parks, so I thought she would enjoy the break. Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing? My wife and I set off in a state of high excitement – our girls waving us goodbye, then promptly disappearing inside to plan illicit parties.
As we drove first to France, where we were to spend a week, and then to north-eastern Spain for three, the dog sat bolt upright for the entire journey, panting heavily, her tongue practically down between her knees. At each motorway pit stop, she pulled me towards unfamiliar smells with an urgency that bordered on the deranged, and then, once we had arrived, she remained in a state of perpetual confusion. If we were enjoying the novelty of a new neighbourhood, a new language, and alfresco meals that ran late into the evening uninterrupted by Netflix, Missy didn’t.
Seeing her tail tucked tightly into her body, I became convinced she’d sunk into a depression. The dogs she encountered during our daily walks were baldly antagonistic towards her (revenge for Brexit?) and she took to hiding between my legs. This was not good. Just like Withnail and I, it felt increasingly as if we had gone on holiday by mistake.
A decade into our first experience of dog ownership, we had come to feel a certain relief that Missy was one of the good ones: calm, not easily riled, gloriously uncomplicated. She had no separation anxiety, was good off the lead, and always happy. But when I speak to Simon Wooler, author of the dog training guide More Than Just a Dog, he explains that travelling with animals is rarely straightforward. “There are a lot of issues that might not initially occur,” he says. “Like, does your dog travel well? Are they prone to travel sickness?”
France, we were quick to learn, would prove hostile towards Missy, its green spaces flaunting NO DOGS signs, the locals frowning whenever she squatted to relieve herself. We were staying in the hilltop village of Saumane-de-Vaucluse, Provence, by a golf course we had no interest in using, but with a pool we very much did want to enjoy. Missy wasn’t allowed near the water, and so we left her indoors. That she refused the familiar parting gift of a meaty treat was surprising – she just pinned back her ears, and slunk away. She’d never done that before.
“It’s the unfamiliarity of the place,” Wooler tells me. “It might have been causing her anxiety.”
Clearly. When I went back to check on her, my walk was accompanied by the intriguing sound of howling, and I immediately came over all Chris Packham: were these French deer? A Provençal owl? An ancient tribe of Gallic wolves? I then realised that it was coming from her, my inconsolable chienne.
The next day, we set up Zoom on the laptop to monitor the situation. Again she refused the offer of a treat and, as we bid her goodbye, she walked off to face the nearest wall. Within 10 minutes of our departure, she began again to howl, like Kate Bush on Wuthering Heights, necessitating one of us to rush back to her, full of guilt and apology. We ended up taking turns staying in with her while the other went to the pool alone, which might have proved interesting if this were The White Lotus, or we were swingers, but it simply meant that we were spending most of our days apart. In the evenings, because she wasn’t allowed in restaurants, we took to eating takeaways on park benches.
As desperate people tend to do, we told ourselves that things would get better. We would be in Calella de Palafrugell, a pretty coastal town 80 miles north-east of Barcelona, for three weeks. Here, she would have time to settle; also, the imminent arrival of our daughters might help. But, no. She wasn’t permitted on the beach, and didn’t want to walk. The fierce breeze that whipped through the flat each afternoon slammed doors and shutters as it went. She did not like this. At night, riddled with insomnia, she would sit by our bed whimpering, then refuse any comfort we offered. The night a bat flew into the bedroom, sending each of us screaming in different directions, did not ameliorate the situation.
Occasionally, we tried to behave like normal holidaymakers, visiting churches, cathedrals, shops. But each time, I had to remain outside with her. She didn’t like the pack parting, wanting us all to keep together. On the day we drove to nearby Girona, there was a sudden spike in the temperature – 38C said the sign outside the pharmacy – and so we searched frantically for shade, pouring bottles of water over her, while I Googled “dog heat danger death”. If each of us was counting down the days until our departure, Missy was counting them quicker.
When at last we got back home, she made a beeline for the kitchen, and waited impatiently while I unpacked her cushion, then flopped down on it, curled into a comma, and let out the most operatic sigh.
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“Should it have occurred to you that she wouldn’t enjoy it? No,” says Wooler, kindly. “Some dogs do enjoy going on holiday with their owners, but others might not. They may need medication first, or to go away for less time. They may simply be happier left at home, with friends or family. Remember that they won’t be missing out if you don’t take them with you.”
This year, we’ll send postcards.
Paws for thought: how to put your dog at ease before travelling
Taking a dog on holiday is not wrong, but bear in mind that they will be in unfamiliar places, and might be feeling somewhat conflicted.
If the holiday requires a long drive, then take a few preliminary drives first to gauge whether they get travel sickness. If they do, there is medication and sedatives you can buy.
Do some trial runs to unfamiliar places, to see how they fare, and then extend those distances over time. This is much easier with a puppy, but not impossible with adult dogs.
Make positive associations with new places by filling them with fun games and nice treats.
Ultimately, whether your dog will enjoy the holiday as much as you depends on its personality.
Dog essentials when taking your pet on holiday in the EU
1 Microchip your pet.
2 Vaccinate against rabies.
3 Get an animal health certificate from your vet.
4 Get tapeworm treatment for your dog.
5 On arrival, go through a travellers’ point of entry, to show proof of each of the above.
Simon Wooler
People Who Like Dogs Like People Who Like Dogs by Nick Duerden is published by John Murray Press (£10.99). To support the Guardian order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
