Dog Jaunt

Dec 11 2013

Big doings Down Under: Changes to Australia’s pet import/quarantine rules

In the course of checking and updating the links in Dog Jaunt’s book Bone Voyage (teetering on the brink of being released in print form!!), I learned that Australia has made some big changes to its pet import rules, effective as of 2 December 2013 (and affecting animals arriving after 3 February 2014). The most significant change is that the minimum quarantine period has been reduced from 30 days to 10 days — too long, still, for most casual travelers, but an improvement nevertheless.

Previously, the world’s countries were divided by Australia’s Department of Agriculture into six categories, ranging from the easiest countries to import from (e.g., New Zealand) to the hardest (a pet arriving from a Category 6 country like South Africa would have to stay in quarantine for at least 210 days). The U.S. fell in the middle, in Category 4: Pets arriving from the U.S. with all their prep work done properly would still face a minimum quarantine of 30 days.

Now there are only three categories of country, again ranging from easiest (the three countries in Category 1 are New Zealand, Norfolk Island, and Cocos Island); to fairly-challenging (visitors from Category 2 countries — generally speaking, other Pacific Ocean entities, plus outliers like Japan, Singapore, Bahrain, Iceland, and the Falkland Islands — must get an import permit, but face “less conditions and testing”); to roll-up-your-sleeves. The U.S. is a Category 3 country, as are Canada, the U.K. and all of continental Europe, South Africa, and dozens of other countries.

As before, the countries that don’t appear in those lists are “non-approved,” but the situation has improved a little for pet owners in those countries too. Previously, an owner seeking to import a pet from, say, India, had to spend the 6 months preceding their travel date in an approved country (as well as negotiating Australia’s import conditions and testing requirements). Now, that owner can choose an approved country, bring her pet there (first meeting that country’s import requirements), and get the rabies vaccination and testing Australia requires — but then, if the owner chooses, they can return together to India for the period (about 5 months) between that testing and the date they have to return to the approved country prior to traveling to Australia. It’s a modest improvement: Owner and pet will still have to spend about 6 weeks in the approved country, and they’ll have to travel there twice.

If all of this is giving you the heebie-jeebies, take some consolation in the fact that the Australian pet import site is very well-organized, and steadily guides visitors through the process. Here, for example, is the step-by-step guide for travelers from Category 3 countries.

For a complete list of changes, go to the Department of Agriculture’s FAQ page and scroll down to the link for “What are the key differences between the old and new import conditions.” One thing that hasn’t changed: Pet dogs and cats still cannot travel in-cabin to Australia.

Dec 9 2013

Irish Landmark Trust: Dog-friendly vacation rentals with history and charm

Can you tell that I’m already making plans for our next vacation? Back in 2009 I pointed you towards Landmark Trust and National Trust vacation rental properties in the U.K. (and elsewhere, including, blissfully, France and Italy) that welcome pet dogs, and a few months later I added a post about Scotland’s dog-friendly National Trust vacation rental properties. I remember (or I think I do, at least) looking for similar options in Ireland, and not finding them.

How happy I was to look again, yesterday, and learn that the Irish Landmark Trust has 25 vacation rental properties, sprinkled across the entire island. Right now, the only way to filter your search results is by indicating the number of human visitors. When you do that, you’re provided with a list of properties that indicates, in bullet points highlighting each property’s essential features, whether that property welcomes dogs or not. Currently, 15 of the available properties welcome at least one dog, and each is tempting.

Feast your eyes, for example, on Helen’s Tower, in Northern Ireland’s County Down. Built in the 19th c. and immortalized in poems by Tennyson (written at the request of Lord Dufferin) and Robert Browning, it sleeps two people (and one dog). The kitchen and bedroom look basic, but the living room is magnificent, and the views! the location! (and, hello, the reasonable price!).

Helen’s Tower (Photo by Irish Landmark Trust)

And check out this octagonal kitchen in the Wicklow Head Lighthouse (sleeps 4, one dog allowed):

Wicklow Head Lighthouse (Photo by Irish Landmark Trust)

There isn’t a clunker in the bunch. After reading (and loving) Stella Tillyard’s Aristocrats, I think I’d choose to start with the Batty Langley Lodge on the edge of the Castletown House estate — it looks delightfully cozy, and I know Chloe would enjoy walking around the estate’s park as much as I would.

Nov 27 2013

Pet policies of the castles, gardens and palaces along Castle Road (Burgenstraße)

Just over a month ago, I posted a list of all the châteaux in the Loire Valley and provided what information I could gather about their pet policies. But what if you’re headed to Germany or the Czech Republic instead? Reader Hazel posted a message on Dog Jaunt’s Facebook page asking if anyone knew whether pet dogs are welcome at the castles that line “Castle Road” (or “Burgenstraße,” in German). I didn’t, but I had wonderful memories of castle-hopping in Germany with my parents when I was a child, so I threw myself happily into the new project.

A quick overview: Castle Road stretches for over 600 miles from Bavaria to Prague. Dozens of castles, palaces, gardens, and villages line its path, and you could easily structure all or part of a vacation around visiting them. For many decades, the route ended at Germany’s eastern border, but in the 1990’s it was extended into the Czech Republic (oddly, there does not seem to be a Czech name for Castle Road/Burgenstraße).

The route is well-signed, and makes for a great road trip

The official site of Castle Road has been a tremendous help, providing useful maps, information and links. I’m particularly grateful for its directional (west-to-east and east-to-west) lists of sites to visit, and have chosen to list the castles below in west-to-east order.

The central segment of Castle Road (the smaller red-line image is an overview of the entire trail)

In my list, the name of each castle is usually a link to the official site’s info about it; sometimes, however, it’s a link to its own site. I’ve often provided links to the German version of a site, since it’s not uncommon for the English version to have less information than the original. I know about 15 German words, myself; Google Translate has been my dear, dear friend for the past few days.

As you’ll see, the list starts out well, since the Staatliche Schlösser und Gärten (Baden-Württemberg) does a magnificent job of organizing and presenting visitor information. Heading eastwards, info becomes increasingly sketchy. If you visit any of these properties, please let me know what you learn about their pet policies — that’ll help keep the post current and useful.

And please note, too, that this is the kind of info that tends to change without notice, so be sure to follow up yourselves before committing to nearby hotel reservations, etc.

Germany

Barockschloss Mannheim — The palace is under the umbrella of the Staatliche Schlösser und Gärten (Baden-Württemberg), which generally does not permit pet dogs in its buildings. They are allowed, leashed, in the gardens, however. Here’s the link and text: “In den Gebäuden der Staatlichen Schlösser und Gärten Baden-Württemberg herrscht ein allgemeines Hundeverbot. Eine Ausnahme besteht für Blindenhunde. In den Gärten sind Hunde angeleint zugelassen.” Mannheim Palace hews the line; pet dogs are not allowed inside (“In den Räumen des Barockschlosses Mannheim herrscht ein allgemeines Hundeverbot.”).

Schloss und Schlossgarten Schwetzingen — Pet dogs allowed, leashed, in the gardens, but not in the castle (link here).

Schloss Heidelberg — Pet dogs allowed, leashed, in the gardens, but not in the castle (link here).

Burgfeste Dilsberg (Neckargemünd) — Leashed dogs are allowed in the fortress building (link here).

Neckarsteinach — Town below four castles (Schadeck, Hinterburg, Mittelburg, and Vorderburg, the first three of which have parts that can be visited). I wasn’t able to learn whether pet dogs can accompany you to the castles, but the kinds of activities you can do there (climbing the curtain wall, viewing the ruins, viewing the bailey, walking up the tower) sound pet-friendly.

Burg Hirschhorn — The castle is now a hotel and restaurant. According to this site, it’s dog-friendly.

Burg Eberbach — It sounds like you can leap around the ruins, from which there’s a good view. No info provided about pets; surely your leashed dog can accompany you.

Burg Hornberg — The castle is now a hotel and restaurant. I’ve sent the hotel a query about their pet policy, and will update when they respond.

Burg Guttenberg — Pet dogs are not allowed inside the castle or, generally, in the falconry center, but they are allowed in the grounds (per the website, “Hunde dürfen leider nicht mit in die Anlage der Deutschen Greifenwarte oder ins Burgmuseum. Auf dem sonstigen Burggelände dürfen sie natürlich ihr Herrchen begleiten.”). At certain times of year, apparently, visitors with pet dogs can see the raptors in action (link here).

Schloss Heinsheim — The castle is now a hotel and restaurant. The hotel is pet-friendly (no extra charge).

Burg Steinsberg — It sounds like you can visit the ruins, from which there’s a good view. No info provided about pets; surely your leashed dog can accompany you.

Schloss Öhringen — The castle now houses city administrative offices; you can look around at rooms that aren’t being used. No info provided about pets.

Schloss Neuenstein — The castle is now a museum and archives. No info provided about pets.

Schloss Waldenburg — Privately owned.

Kloster Großcomburg — Not currently open because of structural issues.

Schloss Kirchberg — May be visited by appointment (call 07954/802-0). No info provided about pets.

Burg Rothenburg — A gate tower survived the 14th c. collapse of the castle, and there is a lovely garden (and view). No info provided about pets.

Ansbach (Residenz der Markgrafen von Ansbach, and Hofgarten Ansbach) — No info provided about pets.

Burg Colmberg — The castle is now a hotel and restaurant. According to this site, it’s dog-friendly. The interior of the Veste Lichtenau, another important building in the area, can only be visited by prior appointment; the Deutschordensschloss Wolframs-Eschenbach now houses city administration offices — step in and ask for tourist information, and you’ll have a chance to check it out.

Burg Abenberg — The castle now houses a museum and a hotel/restaurant. According to this site, the hotel is dog-friendly.

Schloss Ratibor — The castle now houses a museum, library and archives, and city offices. No info provided about pets. Again, I’d pay a visit to the tourist information office to get a glimpse of the interior.

Kaiserburg Nürnberg — With a name like that, you know it’s got to be especially good. Per a late 2012 review on TripAdvisor, pet dogs are not allowed inside. No info provided about whether they’re allowed in the grounds.

Fränkische Schweiz — Of the many appealing properties in this area, the most likely to be dog-friendly (to some extent) are the ruins of Burg Streitberg (another great view); and the gardens of the Burg Pottenstein and the Schloss Seehof. There may be pet-friendly guest rooms in the Schloss Aufsess (the Schloss Oberaufsess also accepts guests, and the resident family has a dog; perhaps that means they’ll look kindly on your pup). From my phrasing, you can tell that info about pet dogs is not provided for any of these properties.

Bamberg — While it seems unlikely that pet dogs are allowed in the Neue Residenz, they might be allowed, leashed in the Rosengarten. Similarly, I hope pet dogs are allowed at least in the grounds of Altenburg, but no information is provided. (How I wish the rest of Germany would adopt the orderly ways of Baden-Württemberg!)

Schloss Rentweinsdorf — Privately owned.

Schloss Eyrichshof — Privately owned.

Coburg — Home of several magnificent castles (Schloss Callenberg, Schloss Ehrenburg, Schloss Rosenau, and Veste Coburg), not one of which mentions its pet policy. I hope that pet dogs are at least allowed in the park of Schloss Rosenau, but I can’t find a scrap of info on the topic.

Festung Rosenberg — The castle now houses a museum. My guess is that pet dogs are not allowed inside; no info provided about whether pets are allowed in the grounds.

Plassenburg — The castle now houses several museums. No info provided about pets.

Bayreuth – The Neues Schloss, the Eremitage, and the Sanspareil rock garden are major attractions. The only bit of information I could find about pet dogs comes from the rules for the Neues Schloss’s gardens, and indicates that leashed dogs are allowed: “Tiere (insb. Hunde) müssen an einer höchstens 120 cm langen reißfesten Leine mitgeführt warden. Die Person, die ein Tier mitführt, muss jederzeit in der Lage sein, das Tier körperlich zu beherrschen.” (Section 3)

Czech Republic

Burg Eger/Hrad Cheb — Pet dogs are not allowed in the museum/exhibition area, but leashed dogs appear to be allowed in the grounds: “das freie Herumlaufen von Hunden und anderen Tieren im Objekt und auf seinem Gelände ist verboten, ihr Zugang in die Ausstellungen ist untersagt” (link here).

Schloss Sokolov — The castle now houses a museum and library. No info provided about pets.

Burg Elbogen/Hrad Loket — Per an icon on the castle’s home page, pet dogs are not allowed.

Burg und Schloss Petschau/Hrad a Zámek Bečov — The castle appears to be under restoration, and not yet open to visitors.

Schloss Königswart/Zámek Kynžvart — The castle’s website makes no mention of pet dogs.

Prämonstratenser Kloster Teplá/Klášter Premonstrátů Teplá — The monastery’s website does not mention pet dogs.

Wasserburg Schwihau/Vodní hrad Švihov — I cannot tell from the website whether pet dogs are allowed; I am passionately fond of moated castles, though, so I’d certainly visit and inquire in person.

Schloss Nebillau/Zámek Nebílovy (Nezvěstice) — Barely any info about the castle, and none about pet dogs. Alas!

Schloss Kozel/Zámek Kozel (Štáhlavy) — The castle’s website includes a list of signs you’ll see, including one that prohibits dogs — but since the list also includes a general “no entry” sign and a “no photography” sign, it could just mean that dogs are not allowed in the castle.

Schloss Horschowitz/Zámek Hořovice — Not a sausage about pet dogs in the castle’s website.

Burg Bettlern/Hrad Žebrác and Burg Totschnik/Hrad Točník (Zdice) — Hrad Žebrác is in ruins (surely you can visit a ruined castle with a pet dog?); Hrad Točník can be viewed by guided tour. The local website is mum about pet dogs.

Burg Pürglitz/Hrad Křivoklát — No mention in the website of pet dogs.

Burg Karlstein/Hrad Karlštejn — Pet dogs are not allowed.

Prague Castle and its gardens — Pet dogs are not allowed [PDF] in “the buildings and gardens.”

Nov 22 2013

Taking a dog into, and out of, England on the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle

A quick recap for those of you who are just arriving at Dog Jaunt: I added a week to our month-long trip to Paris because I wanted to have the experience of taking Chloe into, and out of, England via the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle.

Why make the effort? You are not allowed to fly into the U.K. with an in-cabin pet, so people who prefer to travel within arm’s reach of their dog have to be creative: One of the options, as I mentioned in this post, is to rent a car and drive it (and you, your pup and who/whatever else is in the car) onto a Eurotunnel Le Shuttle train. How can I recommend it to you unless I try it myself?

Short story: It all worked like a charm, and was surprisingly pleasant as well as easy. There are some (low) hurdles to jump over, so timing is an issue, and there are some costs to consider and budget for.

Traveling from France to England

Before you drive up to the embarkation plaza in Calais, you need to have in hand not only your own passport but also your dog’s “passport.” In theory, and no doubt in practice too, the same paperwork that you obtained to bring your pup into France will also work to bring her into the U.K. Per DEFRA: “For non-commercial movements, the Annex 1 or Annex 2 certificate is valid for entry into the EU for 10 days from the date of issue and remains valid for a total of four months from the date of issue for further intra-Community travel.” We decided, however — for the sake of having the experience, and because we thought it might save time if the border folks were handed a familiar document — to get Chloe an E.U. pet passport. I’ll write about that in a separate post, and the fact is, having a “pet passport” really doesn’t mean much for a dog from a non-E.U. country. It’s essentially the same information that was in her health certificate, copied into a blue booklet and backed up by an examination from a French veterinarian.

He not only verified that Chloe was in good health, he also provided the second thing you’ll need before arriving in Calais: The tapeworm treatment that the U.K. requires, and a note (in our case, in her passport) stating that she received it in the specified time frame (“Not less than 24 hours and not more than 120 hours (1 to 5 days) before [her] scheduled arrival time in the UK”). There are a couple of tapeworm treatment options; Chloe got a pill. Before you leave your vet’s office, make sure that s/he writes down the time that the treatment was administered, not just the date (and in European, 24-hour time, i.e., 13:40 rather than 1:40 pm — your vet will be European, so it’ll happen, but double-check it to make sure).

Here’s a link to Eurotunnel Le Shuttle’s useful summary of what’s required to get on the shuttle in Calais (it’s essentially the same as what I’ve described, but it calls out the microchipping requirement separately — you’ve already dealt appropriately with your pet’s microchip, however, in the process of getting her health certificate).

You will need a car (please note that some car rental agencies won’t rent a car one-way into the U.K., and the ones that do add a truly remarkable surcharge — which explains why we decided to return to France to fly home), and you’ll be happier with a reservation on the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle, though when we were traveling (mid-week at the beginning of November) there was plenty of room on earlier/later shuttles. I could not use my U.S. credit card to make an on-line reservation, and succeeded in getting a reservation only by getting my credit card company rep on the line and calling Eurotunnel Le Shuttle with him. A further twist? I could not call the U.K. number for the shuttle from the U.S.; happily, I could call the French number, and the shuttle’s reps speak English no matter what country they’re located in.

So there you are, in your rented or borrowed car, with your reservation, dog, and paperwork in hand. You drive through Picardy, and history, and you arrive in Calais. The very first thing you must do (after taking Exit 42 off the A16 motorway) is look for the signs for the Pet Control Point, because you have to get your pet and her paperwork checked before you proceed towards the gigantic tollbooth. We arrived on a grimly rainy day, and were in a desperate hurry; please forgive the pictures.

Ignore, for a moment, the big tollbooth structure that dominates the scene and beckons you forward. Instead, follow the yellow paw print sign to the right.

Ignore, for a moment, the big tollbooth structure that dominates the scene and beckons you forward. Instead, follow the (criminally small) yellow paw print sign, pointing you to the right.

As you turn to the right, you’re given a much larger yellow paw print sign. The control point is in that low building behind it. Drive into the parking lot, and bring your pup and her paperwork inside.

A panorama of the Pet Control Point building and the fenced dog-walking area next to it.

The Pet Control Point building, as it looks on a rainy early November day, approached at a high rate of speed.

The Pet Control Point building, as it looks on a rainy day in early November, approached at a high rate of speed.

Inside, we plopped Chloe’s carrier on the counter and invited her to poke out her head, so that the control officer could run a wand over the back of her neck to read her microchip. She looked through Chloe’s passport (I had Chloe’s U.S. paperwork in hand, as a back-up, but it wasn’t needed) and gave us a tag to stick to our windshield.

The first tag we received in Calais

We exited the pet control area and turned right towards that tollbooth structure you saw in the first photo. Machines offered us the chance to buy a ticket or claim our reserved ticket; we did the latter and were given another tag, this one designed to hang on our rear-view mirror. If we had arrived early, we could, at this point, have sauntered into the terminal for snacks and magazines and a bathroom break. As it was, we hurried onwards to a booth containing a French customs officer, who waved us on to what turned out to be the U.K. border, right there in Calais.

French customs, completely uninterested in our passports or our stickers.

French customs, completely uninterested in our passports or our tags

Approaching the U.K. border (by this time, we'd stuck both tags to the window, using bits of the adhesive torn from the pet tag, and looked like Ma and Pa Clampett moving to Bever-lee).

Approaching the U.K. border (by this time, we’d stuck both tags to the window, using bits of adhesive torn from the pet tag; the car looked like Ma and Pa Clampett moving to Bever-lee)

We assured the U.K. officer that we’d be returning tout de suite to France, and had reservations on a flight back to the U.S. He looked over what he could see of us past all the stickers, decided we were harmless, and stamped our passports. We finally caught up to our fellow passengers, joining the line of cars boarding the train.

Train waiting at the bottom of the ramp

Following our fellow passengers onto the train. Cars are parked on two levels; we were on the lower level going to England, and on the upper level on the way back. They look exactly the same; the only difference is the extra gut wrench of driving onto a train and then immediately up a ramp, in an unfamiliar car.

Driving forward inside the train

Once you’re parked, thick barriers swing closed between the train carriages. You turn off your car, put on the hand brake, and open your windows halfway (to keep the pressure changes from being bothersome). You and your car mates can doze, or watch movies on your portable electronic devices, or snack, or read. You cannot take flash photos (it distresses the equipment keeping an eye out for fire), and there is no wi-fi. There are modest but workable bathrooms, every 2-3 carriages apart, and you can walk to them. There is no café car, and no other attraction that would tempt you to walk elsewhere on the train.

Parked on the train. The heavy doors between the carriages have been closed, but smaller doors on each side let shuttle employees and passengers move between carriages.

Parked on the train. The barriers have been deployed; doors on each side let shuttle employees and passengers move between carriages.

A bathroom, shoe-horned into the side of a carriage

There are windows in every carriage — they’re irrelevant for most of the journey, but it was nice to see light through them and know we’d arrived, even before the announcement

The train began to move, and 35 minutes later we were in Folkestone. So quick, compared to the Hovercraft and ferry rides I’ve taken in the past. And what could be more comfortable than this?

Once you reach Folkestone, you hear an announcement warning you to drive on the left side of the road, and to set your clocks back an hour. The doors swing open, and you drive off the train and onto the M20 (dear God, on the left).

Traveling from England to France

Returning to France on the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle was even easier. We were rattled, initially, by not seeing any kind of sign for pet control. We collected our hanging tag, and went in search of The Authorities.

This sign in particular threw us for a loop. It was yellow! There was a paw, and an arrow! And yet, there was not Pet Control Point!

This sign in particular, located near the Folkestone entrance, threw us for a loop. It was yellow! There was a paw, and an arrow! And yet, there was no Pet Control Point….

There is a large and pleasant dog-walking area, equipped with agility structures, a water fountain, and benches, but it’s purely a convenience. There was no building next to it, and no signs indicating that pet owners should do anything except pick up their dog’s poop. Baffled, we inquired inside the terminal, repeatedly, and the (very patient) lady at the information desk repeatedly told us there was no Pet Control Point in Folkestone.

Surely this must be part of a Pet Control Point Complex, we thought, but no — it’s just for walkies

A panorama shot of the whole walkies area

The interior of the walkies area, with Chloe and my handsome husband (please note the beret)

Visual proof that there’s a water fountain — how unexpected!

We finally stopped fretting, bought snacks, and ambled onto the train when our boarding letter was called. We passed booths and officials similar to those we’d met four days earlier, but the whole process was so low-key that I cannot remember any details. Another half hour passed, and another announcement reminded us to change our clocks and drive on the side of the road the locals favor, and we were back in…

About those expenses I mentioned: It cost about 50 € to get Chloe’s pet passport (an optional expense); another 50 € to get her tapeworm treatment (not optional); and 15 £ each way to add her to our Eurotunnel Le Shuttle trip (bringing the total shuttle cost to about 70 £ each way). Why was I charged in pounds rather than euros? The shuttle rep offered me the choice in our phone call, and then chose pounds for me since it was a better rate that day.

Nov 4 2013

Dog jaunt: Riding Paris’s Vélib’ bicycles with a small dog

Paris’s citywide bike-on-demand system was just being installed the last time we visited, and we exclaimed in disbelief as impeccably dressed people (including women in skirts and heels —but not helmets, no, never helmets) launched themselves into the maelstrom of traffic on the Rue de Rivoli. More power to them, we thought, but join them? Non. Jamais.

Like this, but with fifteen times the traffic (Photo by KarlOnSea)

Jamais is a long time, though, and the last of our hesitation disappeared when we told our internist we were going to Paris for a month and she literally wriggled with joy while describing how much fun she and her husband had just had zipping around the city by Vélib’. She shrugged philosophically about the lack of helmets, and we’ve since read that the odds are slightly better than you’d think, because Paris drivers are trained by daredevil scooter drivers to look in all directions for possible hazards. It turns out, too, that once you start looking for them, there are dedicated bike lanes all over; and bikes are allowed to use the lane reserved for taxis and buses.

Between rides in the Bois de Vincennes — there are plenty of stations to swap bikes, the scenery is beautiful, and (especially on a Tuesday at lunchtime) we had the paths nearly to ourselves — good news for people who haven't biked in years

Pausing in the Bois de Vincennes — there are plenty of stations to swap bikes, the scenery is beautiful, and (especially on a Tuesday at lunchtime) we had the paths nearly to ourselves — good news for people who haven’t biked in years

Swans preening themselves on the île de Reuilly, one of two islands in the Lac Daumesnil — truly lovely scenery, and dogs aren't otherwise allowed on them, so biking turned out to be a brilliant choice

Swans preening themselves on the Île de Reuilly, one of two islands in the Bois de Vincennes’ Lac Daumesnil — truly lovely scenery, and dogs aren’t otherwise allowed on them (they are allowed elsewhere in the park), so biking turned out to be a brilliant choice

We spent two happy days of our trip on Vélib’ bikes, tootling first around the Bois de Vincennes and then along the Coulée Verte (east of the Bastille, it’s the continuation of the Promenade Plantée I’ve written about before), and if the weather had cooperated, we’d have taken more rides. We cobbled up padding and a restraint for Chloe, who leaned forward like a figurehead, ears blowing in the wind, and cemented her position as Best Dog Ever (except for yours, of course) by shrugging off two wipe-outs. Here’s what we learned.

Advanced prep work

Is your dog small enough to fit in the Vélib’ basket? The basket on the front of a Vélib bike is 15″ long, 12″ wide, and 8″ deep. That’s big enough to hold 13 lb. Chloe, sitting down — I think a dog up to about 15 lbs. would be as comfortable as she was, and smaller dogs might even be able to lie down.

If so, and if you think (or already know) that your pup will consent to being chauffeured, your next task is to come up with a way to pad the basket’s bottom. The mesh is made of thin wire, and it’s loosely “woven,” so it would be uncomfortable to sit on, and the gaps would allow paws or tail to poke through and be injured. Happily for us, I had in my purse the small pad that we brought for Chloe to lie on in restaurants, and that, folded in half, worked beautifully. If I lived in Paris, I would create a large fleece shower cap, essentially, whose elasticized edges I could hook over the basket’s rim, and then I’d put padding in the bottom of that. As it was, I worried about the padding shifting under Chloe and exposing one of those gaps, but it didn’t happen.

You’ll also want to have some way to restrain your pup, not so much from leaping out of the basket (because if you think she’ll do that, you should go with another option, see below) but from fleeing the scene if you and she go fanny over teakettle. There’s nothing provided with the bike that will help — there is a thin cable, much of which flops into the basket, that can be used to lock the bike up temporarily, but it’s so long and twisty (and the locking mechanism is so fiddly) that I wrinkled my nose and dove back into my purse.

What I came up with was the shoulder strap for the collapsible SportPet carrier we use to contain Chloe on the metro and the bus. Shortened as much as possible, it is 29″ long, and 1.5″ wide — and (this is crucial) it has a latching hook on both ends. One hook latched onto Chloe’s harness, and the other clicked onto the basket frame. The strap was long enough that I had to weave it a little to take up the slack, which was possible because it was just narrow enough to fit through the basket mesh. Here’s the result:

Chloe with pad under her, shoulder strap clipping harness to basket. DO NOT restrain your pup by her collar — ONLY by a harness. Seriously. Help me sleep at night.

Alternatively, consider carrying your pup in a backpack. You could bring one with you, or buy one in Paris (stores like Moustaches and I Heart My Cleps have good-quality backpack carriers, and inexpensive ones are available in many of the neighborhood quincailleries — ostensibly hardware shops, but they sell everything, including luggage).

I also suggest buying a copy of Paris By Bike With Vélib’, either before you leave (I’ve provided an Amazon link below) or once you’re in Paris (we found our copy at the English-language bookstore W.H. Smith at 248, Rue de Rivoli). It suggests seven scenic routes and lots of useful addresses and tips. We did Route #4 (“The countryside in Paris”) on our second day out, and liked both the ride and the guidance the book provided. While you’re stocking up on things, buy the Univélo phone app, which shows you where the nearest Vélib’ stations are, and how many bikes/spaces are available at each.

Helpful tips

You’ll do research separately about using Vélib’, I know, and there are plenty of blog posts and articles out there for you to learn from. These are just the things that caught my attention as we came up to speed (so to speak).

Dealing with the terminal: The terminals wouldn’t take American credit cards, which wasn’t a huge surprise. [Reader Jessica points out, quite correctly, that the issue is the presence or absence of a microchip — her Visa Marriott rewards card has a chip (and no foreign transaction fees), and it works fine in places where ours didn’t. Please also see Roberta’s comment, below.] The workaround is to fire up your laptop before you leave your apartment or hotel room and buy your day’s ticket ahead of time, noting down the code Vélib’ provides. When you get to the terminal, follow the directions that let you use that code to release your chosen bike.

Selecting a bike: If there are only a couple of bikes in a Vélib’ stand, whether you see it in person or on your Univélo app, it’s likely that those are broken bikes. Most bikes are in good shape, but before you set off — and indeed, even before you unlock a bike — do a handful of things to make sure it’s a good choice. Don’t be shy — we saw innumerable locals doing all of these things, just more quickly and efficiently than we did.

Lift up the rear end and turn the wheel with your foot on the pedal, first backward (to ensure that the chain is well seated) and then forward; use the right brake and assess how well it works; give the front wheel a spin and use the left brake to stop it. Check tire pressure with a squeeze of your hand or just by leaning your weight on each wheel in turn and looking for undue squishiness. Give the seat a tug to make sure it’s solidly in position (if not, squeeze harder on the stem clamp); if the seat is too low or too high, either choose another bike with a seat in the position you prefer or loosen the stem clamp and adjust up or down (despite all these precautions, a Parisian friend tells me she sometimes finds herself sinking lower on her seat as she pedals — if that happens to you, pull into the next Vélib’ station and swap). A broken bike will often have its seat turned around to indicate a problem.

Seat turned around and pushed to the bottom of its column — choose another one

Safety issues: Before you set off, practice ringing the bell with your left hand. It’s the most effective way you have to warn people out of your path (and people do tend to stray into bike lanes).

With a dog in the basket, the front end of the bike is heavy and prone to swooping to one side or the other. Notice, too, that these are step-through bikes, so there’s no cross-bar to prop against your leg. Take your hands off the handlebars only when you’re confident that the front end is solidly braced against something. Even if your pup isn’t injured by a sudden movement, it won’t take too many alarming experiences for her to decide against this whole biking thing.

For your first ride, choose a large park like the Bois de Vincennes or the Bois de Boulogne, and choose a day and time when you’re less likely to have a lot of company. The Vélib’ bikes are surprisingly pleasant to ride, but you’ll want time and room to get used to them, and especially to having your dog’s weight on the front end. It worked well to spend the first day in the park, flirting with its outskirts every so often to see what Chloe thought of streets, and then exiting the park mid-afternoon to ride through the (very) light traffic of Saint-Mandé. On our next trip, we rode in dedicated bike lanes, next to but not in traffic, and that too went well.

A well-earned beer (pizza on the way), with Chloe snoozing under the table

Returning your bike: The whole point of the system is to keep bikes in circulation, so your day (or week) ticket gives you only 30 “free” minutes at a time. If you use your bike for longer than that, you pay an extra fee — it’s initially trivial, but it escalates rapidly. There were a couple of times when we shrugged and absorbed the extra fees because we were having fun a little too far away from a station, but we generally tried to scoot back in time.

It’s an unadvertised fact that if you wait two minutes, you can check your bike back out again. Given that there were lots of bikes available when we were frolicking, we stood beside “our” bikes until the grace period ended. The right thing to do, however, is check your bike in (watch the light on the bike’s stand until it blinks from orange back to green — after all that effort, you really want the system to recognize that your bike has been returned), unload your bike, and then hope that no one snags it. You can improve the chances that no one will by returning it to a stand far from the terminal.

If all of the checking-in and checking-out becomes vexatious, you could look into renting a bike for a day. No more worried glances at your phone or waiting for your timer to peep, and a bike rental place would likely be able to rent you a helmet too. On the other hand, there you’d be with a bike on your hands — no popping into a shop or a café without first finding a place to lock it up, and at the end of the day you’ll have to schlep it back to its source. The beauty of Vélib’ is that you can bike, or not, on a whim.

Amazon link:

Paris by Bike with Velib (Les Guides Du Chene)

Nov 1 2013

Photo Friday: Curb your dog signs from Paris sidewalks (and bonus scoop law signs)

I remember first photographing these Dachshund-shaped signs (cryptically instructing dog owners to make their dogs eliminate on the street instead of the sidewalk) with my trusty Instamatic, 35 years ago. Lady, our own Dachshund, was still alive then, so I was extra-charmed — and impressed by the suggestion that it was possible to get a Dachshund to do anything she didn’t choose to do.

A little worn, a little faded — the melancholy makes me want to reach for a cigarette and an absinthe

A little worn, a little faded — and oh, the melancholy of the fallen leaves. If this isn’t a moment for a cigarette and an absinthe, nothing is.

They’re few and far between now. Sometime in the past decade, they were joined by this, um, terrier, and now even he is looking a little decrepit.

He's lost his back end, for one thing — a take-home lesson that decals are not as long-lasting as paint

This one has lost his back end, for one thing — a take-home lesson that decals are not as long-lasting as paint

Much good they do — Paris is by no means carpeted with dog poop, as I’d feared when I trolled around the Web before this visit, but the poop you see is more often on the sidewalk than it is in the gutter. Between the traffic and the parked cars and the gutter sluicing (a frequent and, to a visitor, unpredictable occurrence), I don’t see a future for the curbing campaign.

Paris is certainly trying to get the notion of scooping across to its citizenry. We spotted a bus ad going by, too rapidly to photograph, but it featured a woman and dog walking away from a pile of poop, while a service worker magically appears from a street fountain with a hose (the text says “we can do our best, but not the impossible”). The street signs include the “Je ramasse” sign you’ve already seen, joined by at least a couple of others:

A severely practical sign from the district/municipality of Saint-Mandé

A bit blurry, but you can tell that it clings to the notion that your pup will poop in the gutter

A bit blurry, but you can tell that it clings, endearingly, to the notion that your pup will poop in the gutter

This last sign is in the same series, clearly, as an extremely odd one sent to me months ago by Naomi, but the whimsy has been dialed back — no Eiffel Tower fascinator this time, and the text is a primer on How To Scoop: “Tous les sacs en papier ou en plastique peuvent être utilisés pour ramasser les déjections canines. Après ramassage de la déjection, il convient de fermer le sac et de le déposer dans une corbeille de rue.”

I’m adding this post to Dog Jaunt’s scoop law sign collection — to see others, click on the “scoop law” tag below this post, or type “scoop law” in the search bone.

Oct 28 2013

Small, packable mat for visiting restaurants: Best dog travel idea ever

It’s a bold title, but my husband and I are unanimous in thinking it’s accurate. Here’s the back story: I knew from our last trip to Paris with Chloe that she’d be welcome in nearly every café/brasserie/bistro/restaurant we took her to, but I also realized that Paris, like Seattle, would see a fair amount of rain during the month of October. Chloe, who loathes the rain, might well balk at lying down on floors made wet by diners coming in from the weather. Also, she’s (sadly) not used to keeping us company while we eat out, so I suspected she’d do a better job of understanding the plan (curl up until we’re done) if we gave her a clear signal.

What I wanted was a padded mat that could be compressed into a sack small enough to fit into, not take over, my purse. I had seen what turned out to be Ruffwear’s Highlands Bed at Seattle’s big REI store, and after a variety of missteps I got my hands on one again (FYI, REI now sells Kurgo pet products to the exclusion of almost any others). It was as I remembered it — machine-washable, water-resistant, and only lightly padded, so it compresses into a small stuff sack.

Still, at 35″ x 26″, it was too large to fit under a Parisian café table (and the stuff sack was far too large for even my massive purse). I opted to cut it in half down the middle (dust off your sewing machine; sew two straight seams from one side to the other — parallel and about half an inch apart; cut between the seams; bind each resulting edge with zig-zag stitching). That left me with two semicircular (more accurately, semi-oval) mats, each a much more reasonable 26″ long and 17″ wide.

One of those mats squashes nicely into the middle-sized Eagle Creek Pack-It Specter Sac (I bought it in Strobe Green so I could find it easily in the depths of my purse — I like those sacks because they’re whisper-thin, but that also means that they can crumple into a corner). If you prefer not to commit to the 3-piece set, seek out a sack that’s about the same size (9.5″ x 7.5″, with a 2″ bottom gusset).

The stuffed Eagle Creek sack, with a random phone for scale

When we arrive at a restaurant, I unzip the sack, shake open the mat, and deposit Chloe by it in one brief flurry of activity.

The mat has been a smash success. Paris (and environs) has indeed been damp at times, and I’m confident that Chloe has appreciated having a dry resting spot. There’s just enough padding, too, to make lying on a tile floor, or the pavement, more appealing. She certainly heads right onto the mat and curls up. We’ve washed and dried it a couple of times now, with no ill effects.

Chloe on the cobbles at L’Été en Pente Douce, just below Sacré-Coeur

Below our table at Tours' L'Atelier Gourmand. I have dozens more pictures just like this — many of them have water bowls in them, offered to Chloe by kind servers

Below our table at L’Atelier Gourmand, in Tours — please note the water bowl, one of many brought to her by kind servers

In fact, Chloe has yet to be turned away from any dining establishment we’ve taken her to — vive la France!

An unexpected bonus? The same demi-Highlands Bed, folded in half, pads the bottom of the wire bike basket on the front of Paris’s Vélib’ bikes-on-demand, allowing Chloe to ride in comfort — more details in a later post!

Amazon links:

Ruffwear Highlands Bed, Granite Gray

Eagle Creek Travel Gear Pack-It Specter Sac Set

Oct 25 2013

Photo Friday: A collection of scoop law signs, from Nova Scotia to Turkey

Thanks to several alert Dog Jaunt readers, I have seven scoop law signs to share with you, each a masterpiece of goofiness. Taking them in the order they arrived in my in-box, we start with a wholesome vision of family togetherness from Lime Kiln Park, on Washington state’s San Juan Island:

Thanks to Chandler for this one, and for several later ones from Nova Scotia

Halfway around the globe, reader Sarah took a moment from her day in the Kadiköy district of Istanbul and snapped this shot:

Even when I type all the accents in properly, Google Translate tells me this means “Bag with us, please hover for a Clean Environment”

Another spin and we’re in Shediac, New Brunswick:

This is an extremely odd sign — that disembodied hand! the weary hours of training it must have taken to convince a dog to poop directly into a pan!

This is an extremely odd sign — that disembodied hand! the beheaded dog! the slug reclining in the pan, unaware that he’s about to be pooped on!

Chandler sent this one to me as a birthday gift:

This sign is from Acadie, still (obviously) in the French-speaking part of the province. I admire the effort to capture actual moment of pooping, but I have to say that that creature really looks more like a giant squirrel.

This sign is from Acadie, still (obviously) in the French-speaking part of the province. I admire the effort to capture the actual moment of pooping, but I have to say that that creature really looks more like a giant squirrel than a dog.

Near Fredericton, in the English-speaking part of the province, you’ll find this sign:

Seemingly straightforward, but note how the dog’s leash ends, spookily, in mid-air — and are the words “after pets” really necessary?

This sign is from the interpretive center at Washington’s Ginkgo Petrifed Forest State Park, which is a little odd because the last time you saw this one-armed variation on what’s usually a two-armed humanoid preparing to pick up poop with a hoe, it was telling you that the trails at Mt. Rainier (a national park) are not dog-friendly.

Two messages, conveyed with a minimum of chit-chat

The sign, therefore, just means the area around the interpretive center is okay for leashed dogs to investigate — and the “scoop law” part of the message is conveyed by the presence of the poop bag dispenser.

I wind up with a gem of a sign, this time from Paris’s Jardins du Ranelagh, which we walked through on our way to the Musée Marmottan (home of a really delicious collection of Monet paintings, far from the hurdy-gurdy of the Musée d’Orsay).

Usually that top image, of a happy owner stepping out with his prancing dog, has an ugly red bar through it — but not in the Jardin du Ranelagh

Usually that top image, of a happy owner stepping out with his prancing dog, has an ugly red bar through it — but not in the Jardins du Ranelagh

I love this one not only because — for once! — leashed dogs are allowed in a Paris park (and it’s a very pretty one) but also because I share that dog’s fascination with what his owner is doing back there behind him. He’s using — well, what is he using? — a length of bent wire to maneuver three pieces of poop at once into a plastic grocery sack. No wonder he’s dropped his dog’s leash — he’s got no attention to spare for anything else.

Thank you so much for sending me these! I’m adding this post to Dog Jaunt’s scoop law sign collection — to see others, click on the “scoop law” tag below this post, or type “scoop law” in the search bone.

Oct 23 2013

Packs flat when crate is collapsed: Thumbs up for Dexas Popware water bowl

As you know by now, we travel with Chloe’s Midwest metal wire crate, so she has a cozy and secure lair to curl up in when we need to go somewhere without her (I realize that doesn’t work for every dog owner — we are lucky to have a dog who likes her crate, falls asleep in it, and doesn’t make a fuss when we’re absent).

The wire sides of the crate are ideal not only because they discourage scraping (the very young Chloe delightedly trashed a couple of soft-sided crates before we settled on the Midwest one) but also because you can attach a water bowl to them. For years, we’ve been using this bowl, in the smallest (8 oz.) size. I like it because it’s stainless steel, it’s very compact, and because it can be mounted on the side of the crate.

Photo by Amazon

On the negative side, that metal ring of a holder needs to be removed before you can collapse the crate for packing — a simple matter of unscrewing a wing-nut, to be sure, but I was still intrigued when I came across the Dexas Popware crate bowl.

Like the metal bowl we’d been using, the holder for the Popware bowl clamps to the wire frame of a crate with plates and a screw (in this case, knob-topped). Unlike it, the bowl is one of those silicone containers that can accordion into a flat disc — and since the holder is hinged on the inside, that disc can be flipped up so that it lies flat against the plane of the crate. And that means that the whole structure can remain on the crate, even as it’s collapsed and packed into our suitcase.

Photo by Amazon

We’ve avoided plastic bowls for our pets since one of our cats developed a bad case of feline acne, years ago, but it appears that silicone bowls may not be associated with that issue. The Popware bowl can be cleaned in the dishwasher, and it’s easy to remove and reinstall in its holder.

The small Popware bowl installed on the door of Chloe’s crate — you can see the circular end of the hinge that allows the structure to be folded upwards for packing

Chloe having a drink (this shot is from our recent trip to Spokane) — having the water bowl available on the crate door means that I now only carry a food bowl for her when we visit friends or stay in hotels (this picture is from Spokane's Hotel Davenport)

Chloe visiting her water bowl — having the Popware bowl installed on the crate door means one fewer bowl to pack when we visit friends or stay in hotels (this picture is from Spokane’s Hotel Davenport)

My only regret is that the Popware structure — even the small one — is much bigger than Chloe’s stainless steel bowl and holder. We tried installing it on the side walls of her crate, but it occupied too much prime real estate. It works best when it’s installed on the crate door, and so far we’ve remembered to open and close the door without sloshing water onto Chloe or ourselves. I should mention, too, that the hinge is a bit clunky to operate. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, however — on this trip I chose to bring only the Popware bowl with us, and I haven’t missed the old stainless steel bowl and holder at all.

Amazon links:

ProSelect Stainless Steel Pet Cage Cup, 8-Ounce

Dexas Popware for Pets Pivot Collapsible Kennel Cup, Small

Dexas Popware for Pets Pivot Collapsible Kennel Cup, Large

Oct 21 2013

Buying a TGV train ticket, making a reservation for your pet dog: Confusing differences between French and English SNCF Voyages sites

I’m posting this because we ran into a vexing discrepancy between the French and English versions of the SNCF Voyages pages: We could not add Chloe to our TGV reservation on the English site, but we could have on the French site. Save yourself an extra step and book your travel on the French site.

A quick overview to get you oriented: SNCF operates France’s national train system; and a piece of it, SNCF Voyages, operates the high-speed, long-distance TGV (“train à grande vitesse”) network covering France and reaching into Belgium, Luxembourg, and Switzerland (under the name TGV Lyria). Pet dogs can travel on TGV trains — small dogs in carriers like Chloe cost only 6 €, while large dogs (leashed and muzzled) cost half the fare of a full-price Second Class ticket.

My husband and I went on-line, opting to use the English SNCF Voyages site, and bought our tickets for a day trip to Tours. As you can see, we were not offered the option to add Chloe to our reservation — and that wasn’t a surprise, since the directions told us that “pet tickets are not available at [the English site]” but can instead be purchased at an SNCF station or shop.

Checking on details of our seating, however, we ended up on the French site, which does offer you the option of adding your pet to your reservation. In a further twist, that option is not presented to you if you start filling in the “Réservez un billet de train” box that’s waiting for you on SNCF Voyages’ home page:

The first opportunity you’re given to reserved tickets does not make it easy to add your pet to your reservation — ignore the opening screen on the French SNCF Voyages site.

What you have to do instead is ignore that box and click on the “Train” icon in the menu, and then, under the category “Réserver,” click on “Réserver un billet”:

When you do that, you’re given a form that, as soon as you tell it where you want to depart from, gives you the opportunity to click on the link “Voyagez avec votre animal de compagnie.”

That leads you, via another link (click on “En savoir plus”), to a page packed with further links and information about pet travel — none of which is available on the English site. It also lets you specify how many pets you’re traveling with (2 is the maximum), and request a reservation.

It’s not the end of the world that we missed this option — we arrived a little earlier at the Gare Montparnasse, located the billeterie for the “Grandes Lignes,” and stood in line to talk to a ticket agent — but it did add an unnecessary layer of complication to our plans (two layers, in fact, since we tried to visit an SNCF boutique the day before our trip, and learned they were all closed because of a “mouvement social national”). In the future, we’ll start with the SNCF’s French site, and I suggest that you do too.