My name’s Swizzle. I’m a dog. You might think I don’t understand things like “We’re going on holiday!” but I do.
It starts with the bags. The smell of freshly washed clothes. The humans whispering like I don’t notice. Then, the unmistakable rattle of the lead being packed — not hung. Packed. That’s the signal.
We’re leaving. And this time, I’m going too.
Day 1: New Smells, New Garden
The car slowed. A gate creaked. I leapt out nose-first into grass that smelt of squirrels and spring rain. I sniffed every inch of that garden. High fence. No gaps. No nonsense. A proper dog’s domain.
The humans opened the door to the cottage and said “Wow.” I didn’t say anything, but I approved. Wooden floors. Big windows. A quiet kind of welcome. They unpacked slowly. Smiled more than usual. That’s always a good sign.
I made a little circle, settled down, and listened to the birds.
Day 2: Walks from the Door
We didn’t drive that morning. We just stepped out and we were in it. Fields. A beck. Birds. A stick I found and insisted on carrying the entire way.
The humans laughed. They were slower than me, but I waited. That’s what you do when you love someone, you wait at every corner and make sure they’re still coming.
We walked all the way to the sea. I tasted salt in the air before I even saw it. Waves crashing. Sand so wet it squelched under my paws. I ran so fast my ears flapped like kites.
I slept like a log that night. Dreamt of seagulls and sausages.
Day 3: Pubs, Cuddles and Roast Beef
We went to a pub that welcomed me like I was family.
A kind lady brought me a bowl of water before she took their drinks order. Then she brought roast beef. Just a little. Off the plate. My humans gave me the look, but they still slipped it under the table.
It was warm inside. Dogs were everywhere, under benches, beside the fire, tucked under bar stools. One gave me a nod. We all understood. This was our kind of place.
Day 4: Rain and the Cosy Bit
It rained. I didn’t mind.
I curled up in the kitchen while they made coffee. They didn’t have to tell me I was allowed in there, I just knew. Everything about this place told me I was welcome.
We didn’t go far that day. A short walk between showers. Then back to our little nest: blanket, belly rub, bacon.
At some point, I forgot we were on holiday. It felt like home. The humans looked happier too. They laughed more. Breathed slower.
I closed my eyes and gave the kind of sigh that only comes when your paws are dry and your people are near.
If I Could Book It All Myself
I’d choose somewhere just like that.
With a garden I can guard. Walks that start at the front door and end in something incredible.
I’d choose pubs that know my name and cottages that keep a spare towel just for me.
I’d choose Scarborough. Not the busy bit — the quiet, green bit. The bit with trees, mud, and that one really good stick.
If I could book a holiday? I’d book a place where the whole pack feels at home.
Planning a trip your dog would love too?
Check out our dog friendly holiday home in Scarborough with a big garden, walks from the gate and the peace your dog (and you) will thank you for.