Care Guides

Two in the morning, somewhere in the Peak District, and my dog was standing on my chest inside a two-man tent making a noise I had never heard him make before. Not a bark. A sort of low, continuous complaint, aimed at the canvas, which was moving in the wind.

He had never slept outside. I had assumed a dog would find that natural. Dogs find nothing natural that they have not already done.

We got through it and we have camped a dozen times since, and almost everything that made the difference happened before we left the house.

Put the tent up in the garden first. This is the single thing I would tell anyone. Two evenings in the garden, in the tent, with his bed inside it and a chew, and the whole structure stops being alarming. Let him go in and out freely, feed him a meal in there, and if you can manage a full night in the garden before the real trip, do that. A tent is a flapping, unfamiliar cave that smells of plastic, and a dog who has already slept in it is a dog who lies down.

Bring his actual bed. Not a travel version, not a folded blanket, the bed he sleeps on at home with all its familiar smell in it. Mine takes up an absurd proportion of the car boot and it is the reason he settles. A roll mat underneath insulates against ground cold, which matters more than people expect, because the ground pulls heat out of a dog all night even in summer.

The night is longer than you think

Dogs wake to every noise outside, and in a wood there are a great many. Sheep, owls, other campers, wind. The first trip he alerted to all of it and neither of us slept. What fixed it was tiring him properly during the day and then keeping him tethered close to me at night, on a short lead clipped to my wrist or to a peg inside the tent, so he could not pace. A dog who cannot patrol stops trying to patrol, generally after about twenty minutes of grumbling.

Never tether a dog outside a tent overnight. He can tangle, panic, get chilled, or be got at by wildlife, and you cannot hear a quiet problem from inside a sleeping bag.

Food is worth simplifying. Take his normal food, measured into bags per meal, and resist the camping temptation to share sausages. A dog with diarrhoea in a tent two hours from the car is a memorable experience I have had once and will not repeat. Fresh water in a container, not stream water, because streams carry giardia and worse, and the illness shows up four days later when you are home and have forgotten the connection.

Check the site rules before booking, since plenty of campsites say dog friendly and mean one small dog on a lead at all times. Some ban them from certain fields entirely. And in sheep country between spring and midsummer, a dog off lead near livestock is a dog who can legally be shot, which is not a rule anybody enjoys but it exists for a reason.

Ticks. Get them off within a day and the disease risk drops enormously, so check him every evening by hand, particularly the ears, neck, armpits, and between the toes. A proper tick hook costs almost nothing and works far better than fingers or the various folk remedies. I found nine on him after one weekend in bracken, which was more than the previous three years combined.

Nights get cold and short-coated dogs feel it. A whippet or a greyhound needs a coat to sleep in, genuinely, and a small dog can be put inside a fleece-lined bed with a blanket over. Signs he is too cold are curling very tight, shivering, and refusing to settle. A dog who stretches out on his side is a comfortable dog.

Have a plan for rain, because it will rain. Wet dog in a small tent is a specific misery. A cheap tarp strung outside the door creates a dry space to towel him off, and a second towel kept in the car means you always have one dry. Get the paws and belly, not just the back.

Take a lead you can trust and a spare. A collar with a tag that has your phone number on it, and a microchip that is registered to your current number, because a dog lost from a campsite in an area he does not know does not find his way back. I clip a small light to his collar after dark, which cost three pounds and has saved me a great deal of squinting into the dark.

A basic kit: tick hook, saline wash for eyes and cuts, vet wrap, tweezers, antiseptic, and the number of a vet local to where you are staying, looked up before you arrive rather than at eleven at night on one bar of signal.

He is good at it now. Second night of any trip he sleeps like a stone, having decided the tent is a small strange house that belongs to us. First night he still grumbles at the wind for a bit, on principle, and then gives up and puts his head on my sleeping bag.