How our rescue dog became our travel influencer

I recently informed Mabel that we are going to Arran, Scot­land for our hol­i­day this sum­mer. I described the moun­tains, the heath­er, and the beaches, and I asked her wheth­er she would under­stand the accents of Scot­tish dog barks.

She looked at me with those chocol­ate brown, cau­tious eyes, head slightly tilted, with an expres­sion that said: ‘What are you on about?’

Mabel came to us three years ago, aged six. She had spent her life in a puppy farm, bred repeatedly, and kept in ter­rible con­di­tions. She arrived unkempt and frightened; wary of strangers, mobile phones, and sud­den noises.

About the author

Simon Brad­shaw is a lec­turer in Tour­ism, Hos­pit­al­ity and Events at Christ Church Busi­ness School, Can­ter­bury Christ Church Uni­ver­sity, Kent, England.

“GT” Insight Part­ner Tour­is­m’s Hori­zon: Travel for the Mil­lions invited Simon to write this “GT” Travel Experience.

She adores her human mum above all oth­ers. With me, she has grown from deep sus­pi­cion into a bond I was con­vinced she would not allow. Our son she treats like one of her own pups; with a mix­ture of love and quiet author­ity. She some­times chooses to sleep on the bed and tol­er­ates, or occa­sion­ally invites, cuddles. It is hard to ima­gine life without her.

The dog idea was not mine. I had been plan­ning a once-in-a-life­time fam­ily adven­ture to Japan. We were all excited. And then Mabel came to live with us. Without a single post or fol­low­er to her name, she became the most prom­in­ent travel influ­en­cer in our household.

I had assumed ken­nels or dog sit­ters would be part of the deal. But once we knew Mabel — her his­tory, her anxi­et­ies, her abso­lute trust in the three of us — that was nev­er going to hap­pen. Now, every hol­i­day decision starts with the ques­tion: where can we go that Mabel can go?

There are now 15.5 mil­lion dogs in the UK and the dog-friendly travel sec­tor is pro­jec­ted to be worth $50.1 bil­lion glob­ally by 2030, with book­ings for dog-wel­come exper­i­ences sur­ging over 260% year-on-year. Dogs can shape hol­i­day plans entirely; quietly, without ever know­ing they are doing it.

For us, every des­tin­a­tion is now chosen with Mabel in mind. Can we get there by car? Is there an enclosed garden? Is our cot­tage set in a quiet lane, with space to find some­where entirely unex­pec­ted to claim as her own; behind a sofa, under a stair­case, or in the spare blanket cupboard?

Ireland: Worth the wait

We had always inten­ded to vis­it Ire­land through­out our 20 years of liv­ing in Liv­er­pool. Mabel made it happen.

Now we live in the South­east of Eng­land, so we drove across the coun­try and through Wales, the Pem­broke­shire coast emer­ging through the early morn­ing mist.

The early ferry took us to Rosslare from Fish­guard. The pre-booked ken­nel — a lonely pris­on cell amidst the pet­rol fumes — was not for our Mabel. She spent the cross­ing in the com­fort of the car.

From Rosslare, we wound our way west along the stun­ning south­ern coast—Kilmore Quay, Water­ford, Cork, Kil­lar­ney, the Dingle Pen­in­sula, and the Gap of Dun­loe—where a long-awaited pint of Guin­ness, my first ever in the coun­try, tasted exactly as it should.

This was the Wild Atlantic Way; unhur­ried, beau­ti­ful, and utterly worth the twenty-year wait. Mabel had nev­er heard of it. She took us there anyway.

The Isle of Wight: Quietly waiting

We drove to Ports­mouth, took the ferry across The Solent, and spent a week explor­ing an island that time has treated with the utmost respect. The Fresh­wa­ter area in par­tic­u­lar car­ries a qual­ity that is quietly, charm­ingly, 1950s; cream teas, coastal paths, and coun­try pubs, where you can almost hear a Baby Aus­tin motor car honk­ing its horn before turn­ing a hedge-rowed bend. It was anoth­er hol­i­day arranged with Mabel in mind.

Skiing the French Alps: Why not?

We drove through France to St Mar­tin de Bel­leville in the French Alps, which was a rev­el­a­tion. Fly­ing simply can­not rep­lic­ate the joy of a road trip; the land­scape shift­ing around you, the free­dom to stop when some­thing catches your eye.

On our return jour­ney, we stayed overnight in Troyes; a city shaped like a cham­pagne cork, sit­ting at the heart of the Cham­pagne region, with its medi­ev­al tim­ber-framed houses lean­ing togeth­er over nar­row streets.

We wandered down the Ruelle des Chats—Cat Alley — where the upper floors lean so close togeth­er that, legend has it, cats could leap from one rooftop to anoth­er. Yet we had not planned to go to Troyes at all; it was a decision made look­ing at a map over din­ner in the Alps, whilst Mabel snoozed amongst the blankets.

The moun­tain roads wound upwards through the snow towards St Mar­tin de Bel­leville, with majest­ic peaks on all sides. All the while, our unwit­ting furry influ­en­cer was curled up on the back seat, fast asleep. I remem­ber turn­ing back and look­ing at her, and feel­ing, unex­pec­tedly, grate­ful. If it was not for her, none of this would be hap­pen­ing. She had no idea.

The small print

The cost has become sub­stan­tial, though. Every EU trip requires a vet-issued Anim­al Health Cer­ti­fic­ate; we paid £300 for France, only later dis­cov­er­ing cheap­er spe­cial­ist pro­viders to try next time. The man­dat­ory tape­worm treat­ment on return adds anoth­er €60. Spon­taneity suffers.

And it is pro­hib­ited to bring dog food or treats into the EU from the UK. This is worth know­ing in advance; Mabel needs grain-free food, which is not so read­ily avail­able in France.

The compromise

We still some­times fly, but not as the fam­ily unit. My son and I have been to Majorca, Bar­celona, and Mad­rid. My wife and son have their own adven­tures, too. We take turns stay­ing home with Mabel.

Japan, Thai­l­and, and oth­er long-haul trips we would not want to miss; they are all still on the list. But if I am hon­est, I know when those trips are likely to hap­pen: after Mabel has gone to the great ken­nel in the sky. And that thought, even writ­ing it now, makes me sad.

My wife some­times asks: ‘Do you think we’ll get anoth­er dog after Mabel?’ I find myself hes­it­at­ing; because anoth­er dog, with its own needs and anxi­et­ies, would likely mean Japan nev­er happens.

Japan can wait

The influ­en­cer eco­nomy may be worth bil­lions. Yet the most influ­en­tial travel cur­at­or in our house­hold has nev­er pos­ted a thing, has only three off­line fol­low­ers, charges no com­mis­sion, and is, it should be noted, ter­ri­fied of mobile phones. She has taken us to des­tin­a­tions we had nev­er con­sidered, and places we had always meant to vis­it but nev­er reached.

Mabel has taken us to Ire­land, the Alps, and the Isle of Wight. This sum­mer she is tak­ing us to Arran. And after that, who knows?

Japan can wait.

Featured pic (top of post)

Queen of the castle, Caris­brooke, Isle of Wight. This image and all the oth­ers in this post were sup­plied by the author, Simon Bradshaw.

Where is this?

The pin on the “GT” Travel map that rep­res­ents this “GT” Travel Exper­i­ence points to Can­ter­bury Cathed­ral in Mabel’s home county of Kent.

Where next?