Act 2: Scene II

If I do it again next summer, I am going to stay 2 days in Paris instead of hurrying onto London.  

Den Brown www.petchauffeur.eu is the pet chauffeur I have arranged, to help drive us across the Channel.  Quick re-cap- Eurostar does not allow pets on board (aside from service dogs), so this is an alternative way to traveling and keeping your dog with you, to enter the UK.

Den's a great driver- fast, alert, knows the system (take your shades off, Tammy, when you pass through customs so they can see your face).  She was one of the kind souls who really went all out to assist with my understanding of EU pet import laws, and was the one who advised ( heed this advice) that we got Bruno his EU pet passport.  She had pointed out that at any point even on the Thalys journey, I could be stopped and questioned about Bruno and his traveling status.  She had even offered to meet me in Amsterdam and take me to a vet there.  Her business is licensed, her van is clean and comfortable, and her lovely dog Julio travels with us.  We stopped once along the French countryside so that the dogs could stretch out and we could all get something to eat.

This journey done 2 days after a long flight, with a jet- lagged dog who just wants to be on my lap was a bad decision on my part.  For starters, Bruno had to be placed in a crate (security).  Bruno was PISSED.  He stepped out into Paris drizzle, entered Den's van and was placed into a crate.  Bruno is actually crate/bag-trained- but I think the immediate crating post flight, post train was not the best of ideas.  Bruno protested the entire way.  He gave me a migraine.  Intermittently he would rest and shut up.  But that was only to restore his energies so that he could shout more.

Don't let this face fool you- even when doing the down/settle command, Bruno is protesting, LOUDLY.

From Paris we drove to Calais, then took the dogs to the pet control centre to be inspected, and then boarded the Eurotunnel.  After which, we arrived in Folkstone, and then headed onwards to London.  I think we left Paris about noon.  We arrived in London slightly before 7pm (note London is 1 hour behind Paris).  We got stuck in London traffic, and we passed through some of the dreariest bits.   Our day which began at 5:30am seemed never to end.

Driving through the bleakest neighborhoods of London with Bruno dramatically wailing, I felt engulfed with self-pity and fatigue.  I wished I was journeying to another city.  I wished I was back in Amsterdam where everyone is smiling at my (non-wailing) dog.  Stuck in rush-hour traffic, I would give anything to be stuck on the 405 in Southern California instead.  Looking at the road signs in English, I felt a sense of reverse culture shock.  They say unusual things here- trainers, jumpers, knackered, tippling.  Sigh,  I am going to have to learn to speak you know, English.