My Dog May Not Have Much Time Left. Here’s Why We’re Spending It Travelling Europe

It’s Christmas Day, our first in Italy, and I’m frantically attempting to use my poor language skills to communicate over the phone with the one vet that is open.

I learned a lot of handy phrases in preparation for our travels. “My senior dog has a UTI and is peeing blood,” wasn’t one of them.

Jess is 14 now, and just four weeks since leaving home in Scotland, this is our first indicator of how much life with her has changed.

“Fine.” I still remember the sound of my dad giving in all those years ago. When he’d returned from visiting my great uncle and mentioned that there was a one-year-old border collie that needed a new home, I don’t think he realised how much 16-year-old me would pounce on the opportunity.

It had been seven years since our family dog, Glen, had passed at the ripe old age of 16. Since about a year after Glen left a hole in our lives, my mother and I had been begging for another dog.

So when I found out about the young sheep dog that was free to a good home, I put on the pressure. Alongside some willing family members, I laid it on thick, applying a significant amount of guilt.

My relationship with Jess has been nothing short of Hallmark-movie wholesome. The dog-obsessed teenage girl with so much love to give, and the intelligent, excitable animal who just wanted to be loved. From day one, we were inseparable, and what followed for the next decade was nothing short of the greatest love story of my life.

From moving with me to university and attending graduation, to sitting beside my husband as he proposed and running down the aisle on our wedding day as the cutest flower girl to walk this earth, Jess has been present for the biggest and best moments of my life.

She’s spent her whole life following me everywhere. So, when my husband and I made the decision to leave Scotland to travel indefinitely in her 14th year, there was no question she was coming.

We’d always had vague plans to travel in the future, and we’d hoped to embark on our big adventure before Jess turned 10, before life (and an unforeseen global pandemic) got in the way.

But thankfully, at 14, Jess is doing remarkably well. Fellow dog walkers are often shocked to hear her age after seeing her sprint around with her annoying little sister (our four-year-old border collie, Mara).

After receiving a clean bill of health from her vet, our bags were packed. The first stop: Paris, before heading onto Turin for the next three months, and after that, who knew?

Jess has always been an excited, adventurous dog, and she took in all the new scents and experiences that I never could have given her if we had stayed in Scotland.

In six months, she’s been to five countries, travelled on all modes of transport from tram to cable car, and been photographed at some of Europe’s most iconic sites. She’s been fed cheese at a food market in Rome, floated through Venice in a gondola and made countless friends who speak languages she doesn’t understand.

But I think back to that Christmas Day in Italy a lot. We were lucky to find an English-speaking vet who could assist where my language skills fell short, and after a few visits and a couple of rounds of antibiotics, she was fortunately back to her old self. And at every turn, people have been willing to step in and help. (Italy truly is the most dog-friendly country I’ve ever visited.)

But it was the first time I realised how quickly plans can shift around her now.

I thought I’d prepared everything before we left. I ordered months’ worth of medications and supplements, filling more than half my suitcase with whatever she might need. I organised all her paperwork and packed two of her favourite toys, just in case we couldn’t find a quacking ducky in Italy. I’d even mentally prepared myself for the fact that, if we stayed away for a while, she might not see our home of Scotland again.

But this was really the first indicator that it wouldn’t always be easy. Travelling with a pet is hard enough at the best of times, especially when you’re carrying your life on your back and moving between places constantly, often by public transport.

While Instagram stories show waggy tails at the Colosseum or cute family photos in front of the Eiffel Tower, what they don’t show are the days when our plans changed entirely because the day prior had been too busy and Jess needed to recover, or because it was too hot, or because she’d just had enough.

She’s changed how I travel. I don’t plan full days every day, or try to see everything just because we’re somewhere new. We rush through places (and life) less, and enjoy actually living in them for a bit, alongside her.

Because of this, I now have fond memories sitting with both Jess and Mara at my favourite aperitivo spot in Italy, opting for short walks and Aperols after they’d spent the day running around and eating snow on the Alps. Or having her inquisitive nose turn pages in my book as we sat by the Neretva River in Bosnia and Herzegovina on a day that was just too hot for any strenuous exercise.

Yes, maybe if we didn’t have Jess, or if she was a few years younger, we’d spend every day on the go. Maybe we’d summit more mountains, or take her to steeper viewpoints. Maybe we’d hop on planes instead of taking long, expensive train rides.

But as we approach her 15th birthday, I’m sharply aware that time is precious. I’ve started to realise that those slower days aren’t interruptions to the trip, they are the trip.

As I approach 30, I’m no longer the teenage girl begging my dad for a dog. I’m not the young university student taking my dog to my adviser meetings, and I’m not the bride choosing flowers to sit on my best friend’s harness. And as much as it hurts to accept, she’s not the young pup jumping up onto the couch or running up hills 10 times faster than I can, and she’s not the dog with years of life ahead of her.

We’re both now moving through different stages of life, and if this is the last chapter of it we get to share, then I’m grateful she’s been there for all of it. I’m nowhere near ready for life without her, but while I’d love it if she could live forever, my number one goal is to make sure she’s always happy.

So, what a joy it is to spend a day with her sitting by the river with a book. Or winding down in a coffee shop and watching the world go by. Days that would have once felt uneventful now feel like the most important ones, because these are the moments I’ll remember long after she’s gone.

Lois Mackenzie is a freelance journalist from Scotland. She is currently travelling around Europe with her husband and two dogs, Jess and Mara.

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