Dog in Greece – My Journey

It’s a hard life being a dog in Greece…..

I started this story a few years ago to record my journey from our home in the UK to our new life in Greece. I got carried away and am still writing, some 5 years on, about my experiences of a dog’s life in Greece.

Here I am, lazing on the patio relaxing in the sunshine and it’s the 5th December.  Himself and her are sat nearby in t-shirts drinking local white wine and watching the world go by.  I lift my head occasionally, but even that is an effort.

I am DB, fully grown in body but not in mind, male, chocolate Labrador with red collar and a passport, now resident in Greece and very happy.

It seems ages ago that I was lying in front of the log fire in the UK, not wanting to set foot out of the door because it was so cold and raining, even though I was dying for a pee.   In fact it was nearly twelve months ago, doesn’t time fly.

They regularly sent me to playschool, (otherwise known as the kennels), sometimes just for the day, but usually for a week or even two a couple of times a year.  I loved it, unlike some; I was able to play with other dogs and had comfortable accommodation.  Anyway when they returned they would show me photographs and a map of where they had been; a lovely Greek island they had fallen in love with.  The sea was blue – we are near the sea but it is brown – it is still water and I love swimming; I also like to walk in puddles and bound through muddy ponds.  Do not like the bath bit after though as I smell like a “wussdog”, though it is fun when I get out and shake water all over them and the bathroom. ROFLLA (rolling on the floor Labrador – with legs in the air)

Anyway, in the dining room, over a glass of wine – them not me as I am not allowed that sort of drink – I heard them talking about how they would love to move from the UK and start a new life in a warm, sunny and safe environment.  Sounded good to me; I am sitting at the patio door looking out on the torrential rain – short walk tonight then – well I get on with things when its raining.  Yes, I love water, but not rain.

I thought there was something going on when they redecorated the whole house, put new carpet on the stairs, retiled the kitchen and tidied the garden.  Then bits of furniture kept disappearing and strange people came to the house and looked in all the rooms; due to my excitability and love of people and the fact that I have to kiss everyone and roll over, I had to stay in the garden while these strangers inspected every nook and cranny, I looked in through the patio window with a doleful face and made slobber marks on the glass, occasionally woofing so they would not forget I was there.

Then they started putting things in boxes and before I knew it there was nothing to sit on – my favourite leather chair had gone, not that I was supposed to sit on it, but I did.

Then there were visits to the vet, well I usually only went once a year and that was a challenge for them, try injecting me when I keep rolling on my back with my legs in the air or playing chase around the surgery.  But I’ve been so many times recently and they took my blood – to do that I was duped with a Bonio and didn’t realise what the vet was doing until it was too late.

Apparently all these visits to the vet were because I had to have a pet passport which included being vaccinated against rabies.  The vet was very thorough, he had a very good book in which looked up where we were going so that he could determine any other treatment I may need.  Sand flies (Leishmaniasis) were something I had to be treated for as the disease they transmit can be fatal for dogs – humans can also get it if bitten by an infected sandfly.  The canine form of the disease affects every organ and they become emaciated and shabby, and develop strikingly long nails. Treatment can prolong life, but eventually the disease will kill them.

This would be ongoing as would treatment for fleas, worms and ticks.  Thankfully treatment is not by injection but by putting drops of the relevant medicine at the back of my neck and down my spine.  (You think that’s going to be easy, bearing in mind I will roll over?)

The Pet Travel Scheme (PETS) means that when travelling from most European countries or some long-haul, rabies-free countries, some animals can be brought back into the UK without having to go through quarantine (note that some countries have certain exceptions, check the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs for details).

This is what I had to go through to get my passport

  • I was fitted with a microchip and my details (name and address etc) registered on a database; I had this done when I was a puppy just in case I got lost and then if I was found, a vet could scan me for the chip and then establish where I lived
  • I had to be vaccinated against rabies
  • Then I was blood tested
  • And then I was issued with my official PETS certificate
  • I was also treated for tapeworm and tick – and have an official certificate to prove it.

It was early one Saturday morning as they loaded up the car, that I realised something big was afoot, especially as my blankets and toys were being put in my car space.  And my food and bowls, no they go in the car bit, otherwise I might be very tempted to have a feast.  I am separated from him and her by a guard otherwise I try and sit on whoever is driving and apparently that is not a good thing to do although I do get a good view of where I am going.
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