A Dog's Life in Italy
How it started and how it's going
Ciao a tutti! Guest writer here! I’m Aria, the prettiest herding dog you’ll ever see, if you ask me. And now I’m a writer! My mom wants to tell you all about a dog’s life here in Italy, and who better to do that than me? Not gonna lie; it was tough at first—but I’m happy here now, and I hope that’s good news for anydog who lives in America and whose person is thinking about moving here. In case you’re wondering, I was about 7 and a half years old when I moved here, and now I’m almost 12. Mom says that makes me an anziana, but she should talk—I’ve got way more energy than she does.
Oh, I’m supposed to remind you that everything I say is, natch, about our personal experience, which means things might be different for you and/or in other parts of the country. Okay, let’s start at the beginning, va bene?
Planning
My mom says the second-hardest part about getting me here from California (the worst was abandoning me after the airport check-in) was the timing of everything needed from the vet (a health certificate completed by a USDA-accredited vet, and proof of current rabies vaccination) and the USDA. (This site tells you what you need to do.)
To get here, you’ll have to fly like I did (ugh! what a long, scary day that was, and I didn’t get to pee for like 16 hours) or come by ship. In either case, you’ll need to plan ahead. Friends tell us there’s often a long waiting list for kennel space on a ship. For flights, only a few of us animals are allowed, either in the cabin or the hold, and only one per person. Only small dogs and cats (can you believe they let cats on board!) can be in the cabin, and there’s a weight limit. Check with your airline.
Big dogs like me have to fly in the hold, and there are specific requirements for the size and type of crate, food and water, and even itinerary (if you’re traveling in a large crate, the plane has to be able to accommodate it, which means no super-small planes flying into small airports).
Very important! Certain breeds, like my pug pal Ollie, aren’t allowed to fly in the hold because they might have trouble breathing. (Fortunately, I’m not one of them. I’m too big for the cabin, and if we’d had to travel by ship, my mom would have thrown up all the way across the Atlantic.) Ollie was too big to fly in the cabin, so he and his people came by ship and everything was fine. And some dogs, like my pit-bull-mix friend Lucy, aren’t allowed to fly at all because they’re considered dangerous. I don’t know what the rules are on ships for breeds like Lucy.
Along with paperwork and flights, your people will need to make sure they find a place to live that allows dogs or (shudder) cats. If they’re renting, that is. That’s not typically a problem; Italy is a very dog-friendly country.
Oh, one last thing—it’s good to learn a little bit of the language before you come, because everyone here will speak Italian to you. I’m lucky I have an Italian name, because I fit right in; the only problem is everyone thinks I’m part wolf, which I’m not. Anyway, I knew all my basic commands in Italian before we got here, and I’ll tell you, being bilingual is great! It opens your mind, know what I mean? I was really stoked when one of my pet sitters spoke German to me and I picked it up real quick!
The trip
Yours will go better than ours did, I promise. Well, I hope.
So there we were, my mom and two or three suitcases and a backpack and Aurora, our cat (in her carry-on), and me in my crate. The good news is that once the airport folks saw us get in line, they called us up to the front and checked us in right away. The bad news is that then my mom said goodbye to me. What! Why?
I hated the crate, no lie. My mom tried to get me used to it ahead of time, but I wasn’t having it. Supposedly I was going to feel comfortable in there, like at home, y’know? What a joke. How comfortable would you be in a big plastic crate with a flimsy cushion and small, barred windows and a metal door with a dog-proof latch that’s secured WITH ZIP TIES! I mean really, talk about being in prison. A bowl for water was fastened to the door and a bag of food was attached to the top of the crate so that sometime, somewhere, someone might feed me. Not that there was even the slightest chance I would eat. Or drink. Or pee. Or do anything except tremble. My nerves, I tell ya! It was no picnic.
So they took me away from my mom and then I waited for a looooong time. People talked to me, but yeah, whatever. Then we were on the move again, onto a truck or something, then on a big moving platform that took me up into this big scary place. Then we waited again, and then there was a lot of noise and it was dark and I was freakin’ terrified. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I don’t know how much time passed. I think I was in sort of an altered state. Like was this real, or just a bad dream? Would I ever see my mom again? Heck, I’d even be glad to see the blasted cat!
Then we were moving and I couldn’t stand up, it was like something was pushing me to one end of my crate, but then it eased up and I could stand again. And then there was just the noise and the dark. I missed my mom. I think I fell asleep, finally. I don’t know how much time passed, and then we were slowing down and sort of falling—there was this weird pressure in my head—and then a big bump, a couple of them, and then we stopped. Then nothing. Then the big door opened and I saw daylight—hallelujah!—and then it was onto the moving platform again and onto another truck (or maybe the same one? I had no idea!), and then I was in a big, noisy room with lots of people. Some of them talked to me and gave me food and water, which I ignored.
I waited, but my mom didn’t come for me. I was scared and lonely.
Then, all of a sudden we were on the move again, everything happening just like it did before, me shuttled into another dark, noisy place with that horrible pressure, wondering if this was gonna be my life from now on. But this time the falling and the pressure and the bumping happened much sooner, and then the big door opened and I was trundled off. It seemed like I was just going to sit there forever—no idea where I was, but there were so many people and so much noise, and all I could do was wait and hope.
And then there she was! My mom! I thought my heart would burst.
She got me out of the crate—a man had to burn the zip ties off, and he nearly burned my nose too, because I couldn’t help pressing my face against the door. And then I was free and my mom was hugging me and I knew everything would be all right.
The trip wasn’t over yet, though. My mom said we were supposed to fly into Florence from Frankfurt, and we were booked onto a flight the airline had told her we absolutely had to take because that plane would be big enough for my crate. Instead, when we got to Frankfurt, they told her that the plane to Florence wasn’t big enough and we had to fly to Bologna instead. My mom was really upset because it meant waiting an extra few hours at the Frankfurt airport, and she was really worried about me. They wouldn’t let her see me. They said I would be on the flight to Bologna with her, and so would her luggage.
Half right.
Fortunately, I made it onto the flight, but my mom’s stuff didn’t. It went to Florence. My mom had hired a man to pick us up in Florence, and fortunately he was able to zoom up to Bologna instead. I have never been so happy to be in a car in my life! Or to pee! But instead of going straight to Lucca, where we were going to live, we had to go to Florence to get the luggage, which of course wasn’t there. I don’t know how long we waited, but finally they found it and we drove to Lucca.
You might be wondering how Aurora did with all this. She was fine. Well of course she was, she was with Mom the whole time! I hated her for that. Apparently she yowled when the plane took off, and that was it. She even used the portable litter box my mom brought for her—in the bathroom, no less.
I had it much worse, I think we can all agree on that.
Anyway, finally, we got to Lucca. I didn’t like it there, but that’s another story. After a few days, I calmed down because even though we were in a new place with lots of strange smells and sounds, I knew we were staying together. I was even glad to have Aurora there to stare at incessantly. At least she kept me entertained when my mom went out.
A new life
Anyway, it didn’t take us long to decide Lucca wasn’t right for us. So we moved to Perugia, and I like it much better here. Honestly, for me, life in Italy isn’t all that different from California, but my mom had a few surprises. One was how hard it’s been to find people to take care of me, especially overnight. I think lots of people here have family or neighbors who can help with their pet care, so there’s not much demand for it.
Helpers
At first we tried registering with a dog-care service, but none of the people were ever available, even for a walk, even though they said they were. We found someone we liked, then she moved away. Another one got pregnant and didn’t want to do dog care anymore. Another one was a musician, which was fine in the winter, but once summer came, I needed to go for my walk by 7:30 because any later than that was too hot for me, and that was too early for him after his late-night gigs. Another one took a job helping an old man with his old dog twice a day, so that was the end of our walks. It was maddening!
For long trips, my mom used Trusted Housesitters a couple of times, which was fine, but ever since Covid she hasn’t wanted to do that. It’s hard to find people close at hand who will come for a night or a weekend, but finally we have, and I love them! found two people we are sooooo happy with. They’re both students in the university’s veterinary school, and they’re friends, and so they share the time with me. Sometimes I just need a walk, and sometimes my mom is gone for a whole day, and sometimes she leaves me for two whole weeks. The best part is that they’ll spend the night with me.
Some dogs go to daycare/boarding places (called pensioni), but those are often out in the country (or at least not in historic centers like the one we live in), so that wasn’t an option for us until my mom got her license and a car. But it’s not a good option anyway, because I’m not used to being alone at night, and the dogs all sleep in separate rooms in a dormitory-like thing. We tried one pensione where my friend Coco goes, about half an hour from our house, and it had lots of room to run around and trees for shade, and I really liked the people there, but I didn’t play with anyone or eat or do anything except follow the people around and wait for Mom to come back. I think it’d be fine for a puppy or a younger dog. Coco loves it, but she’s been going there her whole life. I wouldn’t say I’m an anziana, but I admit I’m kind of set in my ways.
Hazards
The other yucky thing for us was discovering things that could kill me. One of them is straight out of a horror story, I swear! They’re poisonous caterpillars called processionaria, and they show up every spring and come down from the pine trees, traveling in long chains. If I so much as touched one with my nose, I could die. So my mom is really careful, for that month or so, to keep me away from pine trees. There are vipers too, but those are pretty much only a problem in the country. We’ve never seen one here in the city, but I know of at least one (small) dog who died after getting bitten. But there are dangerous critters everywhere—we had to watch out for rattlesnakes in California.
The other really scary threat to us dogs is hunters. Umbria has lots of them, and they sometimes put out poisonous meat to keep dogs away from their hunting grounds. Unfortunately, some deranged or cruel people do the same thing in city parks. My mom knows people who’ve lost their dogs that way. We don’t know if this happens in other areas, but it’s a real problem in Umbria. It’s best if your human carries salt or a bottle of salt water on walks; then, if we eat something poisonous they can make us vomit (and then get medical help, of course).
It all boils down to vigilance, doesn’t it?
Out and about
Okay, now that we’ve gotten the bad news out of the way, let’s move on to cheerier subjects, like walks and bars and, especially, cornetti. See, here in Italy, I’m allowed to go everywhere except the grocery store. My mom doesn’t take me everywhere, though, because sometimes I get nervous or scared and then I bark a lot, but my boyfriend Tequila goes everywhere with his mom and dad. He’s a yellow Lab and very laid back—he doesn’t even care if a kid sits on him—and I’m not at all like that, which just goes to show it’s true that opposites attract. And sometimes, when we’re lucky, after we go to the park our moms go to a bar for coffee and they buy us a cornetto to share. Yeah, we know it’s not good for us, but they are sooooo yummy and life is short, right?
Speaking of parks and walks, one of the first things your mom or dad will have to get used to is people with other dogs yelling “Maschio?” as you approach. See, there are a lot of, to put it delicately, intact male dogs in Italy, and some of them are aggressive. If you’re an intact male yourself, your human had better be careful because there are a lot of females in heat wandering around out there, and some of them are off leash. Dogs will be dogs, just sayin’.
There are some pretty strange people out there too. One day we got to the park and a dog was there with her mom, running around off leash (the dog, not her mom; just trying to be clear here), and when me and Tequila started chasing her, the mom went ballistic, yelling that I should be on leash. Give me a break! Yeah, I’m fast, and I was on that sort-of-a-spaniel’s heels in no time—I’m a herding dog, after all, doing my job. For dogs like me, work is play, amirite? The mom calmed down after a minute, but sheesh! You’d have thought I’d gone for the dog’s jugular. It’s honestly not worth the stress, so we went to another part of the park to play with my Frisbee.
And talking about aggressive dogs, the worst ones are the tiny yappers that spin at the end of their leashes. They’re super-annoying, but I try to ignore them.
The vet
More good news! Whatever your human has spent on veterinary costs for you in the U.S. will be halved in Italy, at least. Some recent costs for me these days (according to my mom, because I don’t really care): a very comprehensive blood panel, with vitamin levels and other not-usual stuff, was €140; an echocardiogram was €85. I think a regular checkup is about €40, but I haven’t had one lately. A “minor” (not minor to me!) surgical procedure was around €400. My mom is glad that now, with a car, we don’t have to spend €30 round-trip on a taxi every time we go to the vet. (I’m too big/nervous to go on a bus, and we’d have to take two of them each way. Yes, there’s a vet within walking distance of our house, but my mom and I really like Dottore Carlo.)
While you may save money on vet bills, comparatively speaking, what you’ll probably spend a lot of is time. Whenever we go to the vet, my mom says it’ll take a couple of hours, and it usually does. It’s a pain, but when you and your human are the ones causing the delay, you understand. They don’t rush you. Your mom has lots of questions, maybe some that aren’t related to the problem at hand? No problem. Oh, and she wants you to get your nails trimmed while you’re there? Also no problem, and no charge. When we get lab work done, the results are delivered in person, not by phone or email, which sometimes turns into a full consultation about future care (also no charge; your human pays only the labwork fee).
One thing you won’t do at the vet’s, though, is get your meds. Those come from your human’s pharmacy. If the med is for veterinary use only, a smaller pharmacy might not stock it (though they’ll be happy to order it for you, and it’ll usually arrive in the afternoon if it’s ordered in the morning, or the next day if it’s ordered later). Or your human can go to a pharmacy that tends to stock more veterinary meds (like the one near my vet’s office does). Medications, by the way, can be fairly expensive. Every 25 days, my mom spends about €75 on my cardiac med, and things like joint health supplements and probiotics can be pricey.
Like sometimes happens with your human’s doctor, your vet may be reachable by WhatsApp message. So instead of calling the office and leaving a message about, say, a prescription renewal, your human can message the vet directly, get the prescription via the app or by email, then take that to the pharmacy. No printing needed!
Also like with their own healthcare, your human is expected to be on top of things like vaccination schedules and recurring exams. It’s always best to bring lab and other exam results to your next visit. I get an echocardiogram every six months, and my mom always brings along the previous test results for comparison. It’s just easier that way. The doctor comes to my vet’s office to do the exam, and she always seems glad to see me even though I’m never glad to see her. Who can stand still for that long, especially when they put goop and wires all over you?
My two cents
So, all in all, life is good here in Italy. Getting here is hard, but I say it’s worth it. I have friends all over town, and there are lots of parks nearby, and lots of bars filled with cornetti. I never know when my mom might stop to buy some bread (I always get some) or if, when we pass the porchetta stand, the worker there will slip me a little taste. The only bad part is summertime, because it gets much hotter here than it does in California. Oh, and I miss my friend Lisa who used to take care of me. It was really fun at her house—there were so many dogs to boss around in the yard (kept me busy!), and when we went to a big park I got to round everybody up because nobody except me ever listened when Lisa called us. Lisa loved me, I know it. I mean, she drove us to the airport to see me off!
That’s all I can think of for now, but if you have any questions, my mom says to write them in the comments and she’ll answer them. A dopo!
Book of the week:
How to Teach Classics to Your Dog: A Quirky Introduction to the Ancient Greeks and Romans by Philip Womack
Poems of the week:
Welcome to Italy, Aria! We're Latâche and Olivia, two furry sisters living in the province of Treviso with our hoomans. We'd post an introductory photo but we don't have opposable thumbs so we're not sure how. We're really happy that you're enjoying italian life. If you travel to Veneto we'd love to share some cornettos :-)
lucky aria. i remember those days. to and fro germany, sf, dc. last leg was a bus in portland maine only to be told it was illegal to bring dog. driver relented after my meltdown and said: if ea passenger agrees you can bring Dammit on. seat to seat i went, crying all the way. sat in the back of the bus, Dammit on the lap, to bath maine.