From New York to London

I like to think of my life in two eras: pre-Rocky and post-Rocky.

The pre-Rocky era was wild and carefree. As an early-twenty-something living in New York (far away from the judgment and disapproving looks I had become so accustomed to from my family and friends in London), I did what I wanted when I wanted. To some, this freedom might sound wonderful. What is there to complain about, right? Not having any rules or responsibilities. Well, whilst it certainly did have its perks, my life before Rocky was also empty. All those late nights in bars scattered over New York yearning for comfort, whether it be in the form of a shot glass or a man – it took a toll on me. Soon came anxiety, followed by an unhealthy dose of depression and what I can only describe as a deep hollow feeling.

I knew something was missing but I couldn’t figure out what exactly. I decided that I needed to focus more on myself and what made me truly happy. I stopped drinking and started exercising every day, often taking long walks by the Hudson, reflecting on how lucky I was to be living in one of the greatest cities in the world. This helped, of course, but I felt there was still a little spark missing.

One Sunday, in 2015, I went to a 3-hour meditation class a few blocks away from my apartment. It was a beautiful day with bright blue skies and a calming breeze. I was so ‘zen’ after the class, I felt like I was floating so I decided to take a longer way home and enjoy the warmth of the rays beating down on my skin. I was so blissfully unaware that my life was about to change forever.

I turned the corner and there he was. A little bundle of fluff sat in a corner by himself as the other puppies in the window yapped and played together. I had always hated these pet shops and vowed never to go in one, but there was something about the way he looked at me. At first glance, he seemed quite shy and anxious, but I saw something in his eyes - it was the spark I was looking for. The first time I held him in my arms, he fell fast asleep, and I knew we had both found comfort that we had never felt before. Welcome to the post-Rocky era.

The coming days, weeks, and months were intense. I’d never had a dog before so there was a lot of learning to be done and, at times, it was challenging. There were days when I would rush downstairs for just a minute to pick up a package and come back to a puppy and a kitchen smeared in poop! Or the time when he somehow wangled his way into my closet and chewed every single one of my high-heeled shoes. All I could do was laugh. He was growing up to be such a sweet, happy, goofy dog and anything he did, bad or good, just made me smile. My heart grew fuller and fuller with love each day. Rocky saved me.

Two years later, I received some devastating news and decided it was time to move back home to London. Part of me was so sad. Rocky and I had built such a wonderful life in New York. We had our favourite walks and dog parks, he had his best buds from down the hallway that he’d play with every day, and I was finally calm and content. But I was also sure that the two of us would have a wonderful life in the UK. I also liked to imagine that Rocky would bring his New York swagger to London and be the coolest pup in town.

After booking our flight (I’m not going to get into how complicated it was to book a trans-Atlantic flight for a dog), we started to prepare for the big move. I was inundated with vet bills and legal paperwork. I made sure everything was in order and that I did everything exactly how it was supposed to be done so that there would be no hiccups. Rocky and I were ready for our next big adventure!

We got to JFK 3 hours before take-off so the TSA could check all the paperwork and Rocky’s crate. Everything seemed to be in order. Once I’d checked in, I told Rocky how much I loved him and watched them carry him away to be boarded onto the plane. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t like flying so I felt so guilty for putting Rocky through this, but at the same time, there was absolutely no way I was leaving him behind! When I reached the gate, I looked out the huge glass windows and could see Rocky’s crate, alone, next to the plane. I waited to be the last to board.

“I just want to check that my dog is safely on the plane?” I said to the gate agent. At that moment, a man in a very fluorescent orange jacket came through the jet bridge and whispered something into the agent’s ear. “Sorry is there a problem?” I asked. The nerves combined with my impatience were a recipe for disaster.

The gate agent looked at me with a forced smile. “There seems to be an issue with the paperwork, so we are unable to board the dog on the plane.”

My eyes became blurry with tears. As if this situation wasn’t bad enough.

“No, no, no, no, no… what do you mean? You have to put him on the plane. I did everything right! I spent thousands making sure this would be as seamless as possible! You have to put him on the plane, please!”

“Yes, mam, I understand,” she stuttered, “however, unfortunately, it does seem that the airline didn’t correctly fill out the paperwork. We are very sorry. You can fill out a complaint on our website...”

Oh hell no. Her voice droned on and on, but I wasn’t listening. I looked out onto the tarmac and saw Rocky’s crate, took a deep breath, and strode towards the entrance of the jet bridge. Nobody messes with my dog.

“This plane is not taking off until me and my dog are on it!” I shouted. “I don’t care how long it takes, fix the paperwork.”

An hour passed and I was still refusing to move and get on the plane. The TSA and gate agents were fumbling around, rushing back and forth from the plane, but nothing seemed to be happening until eventually, the captain came storming through the jet bridge entrance.

In a slow, stern voice he ordered, “Put the dog on the plane, now!”

Finally! As I walked down the aisle towards my seat, every passenger looked at me with such contempt, but I didn’t care. Rocky and I were on our way… to France. I forgot to mention, the only flight I could get was to Paris.

When Rocky and I were reunited at Charles de Gaulle, we were so excited to see each other. I was so relieved that we had both made it, unscathed, and that he still loved me even after this horrendous ordeal. My (very kind) friend George, who had driven to meet me in Paris, ushered us into his car. We had to get a move on as we didn’t want to miss our Eurotunnel, but seeing as I delayed the flight, we were running a bit behind. To make up for lost time, George was slightly ‘relaxed’ with the speed limit. It’s France, nobody cares, right?

Wrong. About 45 minutes from Calais, we were stopped by the police for speeding. They took our passports and demanded we pay a fine. The only problem was, George and I didn’t have any euros and, to make matters worse, both our phones had died meaning we had no sat nav to guide us. At least our GCSE French came in useful when trying to understand the directions the police gave us to an ATM – about 15 minutes away in the nearest village. They kept our passports until we found our way back, euros in hand. Reflecting on it now, that was kind of sketchy.

An hour later we finally reached the Eurotunnel. I took Rocky out of the car and we had a stroll around to stretch our legs. We’d already missed our train - and the next two after that – so we weren’t in much of a rush now. We went to the pet reception to check in and waited patiently until it was our turn. We were so exhausted but so close to home! I held Rocky in my arms as the woman behind the counter checked his paperwork. She started to shake her head and in a very strong French accent, she muttered “there is an issue.”

My heart sank. I immediately began to sob.

It transpired that because of all the delays we’d incurred, Rocky’s tapeworm treatment was no longer valid by an hour. ONE HOUR! The only solution was to take him to a vet in Calais to get a new treatment, but it was a public holiday in France and all the vets were closed until the following day. We would also need to wait an extra day after treatment before being able to travel to the UK, so, we were looking at 3 days in Calais. With no euros, no phones, and nowhere to stay. Just great.

I don’t know whether it was the shake in my voice, or the look of desperation I had but the woman at the pet reception must have felt sorry for me as she called her friend, who happened to be a vet, and he agreed to open his practice for us. What a lifesaver! She gave us the directions and we eventually found it after driving around in circles for a while. George, Rocky, and I sat outside and waited, in silence, for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually, an elderly lady pulled up in a battered, blue car, and a man stumbled out. He swayed heavily towards us and as he reached the door, his keys jangled as he tried to unlock it. Wait… was he drunk?

“Je suis le vétérinaire,” he slurred.

Oh boy.

Docteur Vin (a nickname George coined for him) took Rocky into a room, examined him, and started to fill out a pet passport. I tried to explain that he just needed a new tapeworm treatment, but he looked at me blankly. He carried on writing in the passport and to my astonishment, he changed the time of Rocky’s treatment, so we were able to travel to the UK today. He tried to charge me €100, which of course I didn’t have, so he charged me £100 instead. Fine by me if it meant we could go home today. And go home we did.

That night, I slept with Rocky curled up at my feet. This certainly wasn’t the kind of adventure I’d had in mind, but it didn’t matter anymore. Rocky was safe and we’d finally made it to London. The whole experience, as shambolic as it was, really cemented my love and how I would do absolutely anything for him.

We’ve had many amazing adventures since then - paddleboarding down the Dronne in Aubeterre, strutting the streets of Antwerp, exploring rockpools in Devon. Over the past 7 years, Rocky has taught me so much about life. I’ve learned to be patient, to love unconditionally, to live in the moment, and overcome any stresses or fears. I honestly cannot imagine my life without him and I’m so excited for all our adventures that are yet to come.

For anyone who is umming and ahhing whether to get a dog or not, all I can say is do it! It will be the best thing that will ever happen to you.