Millie's Take On The World: My First Holiday

Sunday, 15 August 2021

My First Holiday

When the humans told me we were going on holiday to the country, I wanted them to be more specific. Would I need more vaccinations? Would I need a Covid test and a pet passport? Would they be bringing a suitcase full of socks for me to chew?

No, no and absolutely not, they replied.

(I get that a lot, usually in relation to me jumping on the couch or pulling at the curtains with my teeth).

We're going to a holiday park, they said.

I wasn't sure about this. If they'd said country house or royal estate, I'd have been sold on the concept. But two weeks at a park? Don't they remember that's where I do-do my business? Wouldn't you think twice about holidaying on a dog's toilet?

Turns out it was quite nice... the first week.

Next door to the one we stayed in

I had my own private cage, the weather was lovely and they'd bought me a basket full of new toys to play with. The cuisine was a bit samey and I could have done with larger portions but they treated me well so I wasn't hungry often. We went on long walks to places I don't know where (the ferns and grass were too tall for me to see anything) and lots of lovely humans approached me to tell me how adorable I looked. The man remarked to the woman "If I had a pound for every time I heard that, I'd have paid for her twice over by now". He repeats this often so I must be getting more expensive. I blame the high level of interest.

Then I attracted a visitor.

It didn't bother me. I was unaware of its presence under my chin but the humans freaked out. Turns out they'd forgotten to protect me against ticks. They ended up having to borrow an anti-tick toolkit from the neighbours to remove it. Afterwards, I was treated to new medicine and told me not to worry. So long as it works, I'm happy. I don't want them pulling and scraping at my fur again, giving me bald patches. I've an image to maintain.

Can I fit through there?

Not sure...

Of course I can...

The second week, it started to rain. Heavy rain. Rain of biblical proportions. With thunder and lighning. Some parts of Scotland had flash floods. Back home in Paisley, cars were abandoned in waist-deep water and kids swam in the streets. I'm glad I missed it. I've not had any swimming lessons yet. They won't even let me in the paddling pool yet, but I suspect that's more because I'm still a bit bitey and they don't want me to make a hole in it.

I've never experience rain like this before. So far, my entire life, I've managed to avoid it (I've been told the extended dry spell was unusual for the West of Scotland). The only occasions I've been wet were after my first bath (I say first but I'll not let them put me through that experience again); when we were at the seaside and an enthusiastic incoming wave soaked my paws; and the odd occasion when I've done a surprisingly big leak and ended up standing in a puddle of my own making.