Yes.
And no.
If you’re reading this then, unless you got lost somewhere along the way, you’re probably considering taking your dog to the very beautiful Italy.
But is Italy as dog friendly as the Italians themselves are?
Jury’s out for me.
There is absolutely no denying that the Italian people could not be more dog loving.
That bit is not in question.
If you do decide to visit, expect your dog to receive a warmer welcome than you do.
Passers-by will smile sweetly at you…
Well.
At your dog.
It really is lovely.
Are dogs welcome in Italy?
In our experience, very much so.
We found dogs were welcome on many of the beaches we visited, and it was pretty much a given that restaurants, cafés and bars would accept them too.
Most public transport options accept dogs too, if they are medium to large just take a muzzle just in case they ask you for it - each area has different rules but they seem pretty relaxed. We got caught out and tried to catch a bus without a muzzle and it wasn't an issue - it s a size of dog thing not a breed specific rule by the way so don't risk not having one.
The funny thing about Italy — and something that took us a while to get used to — is that some places have a LOT of signs, while others seem to have none whatsoever.
It becomes a bit of a guessing game.
And even if there is a sign, chances are there will be several — if not dozens — of locals happily ignoring it and having a lovely time.
For someone like me, who definitely has certain rule-following tendencies, this is… challenging.
If I see a NO DOGS sign, that image becomes permanently burned into my retinas and mentally welded to that location for the rest of time.
My husband?
Not so much.
He is quite happy to take a little “artistic licence” with the rules if he believes he isn’t causing any harm.
I wish I could be more like him sometimes.
And I’m fairly sure he wishes I was too.
We had a few crossed words about what we were and weren’t supposed to be doing.
Even when there were hordes of people merrily flaunting their dogs across a “No Dogs” beach, I would still be standing there thinking:
BUT THE SIGN.
Some days, though, we’d been travelling for hours and Luna was desperate to dip her paws in the sea.
So occasionally I had to ignore the voice of caution in my head and appease the rest of the family.
Growth.
Sort of.
Dogs and leads in Italy
One thing we noticed is that Italian dog owners seem very keen on leads.
Most dogs we saw were on one.
You did occasionally see dogs off lead, but they were usually stuck fast to their owners or had annoyingly perfect recall.
Naturally, there are always exceptions.
We came across the occasional overenthusiastic off-lead dog who had apparently made it their personal mission to greet every other dog on the beach.
But, in our experience, they were generally friendly and respectful.
If Luna clearly wasn’t interested, most had a quick sniff, got the message and moved on.
It isn’t ideal if you have a very reactive dog.
But honestly, we experience this everywhere.
And personally, I think it happens more often to us in the UK.
The beaches
Now.
This is where Italy became slightly more complicated for us.
Most people have probably heard about the litter issue in parts of Italy.
And yes.
It can be a bit grim.
We travelled around Italy for roughly ten weeks, starting near Genoa, heading through Tuscany and following the west coast all the way down to Sicily.
We spent around six of those weeks in mostly coastal areas.
And there was a noticeable difference between the coast and many of the inland or more residential areas.
The places where people actually lived tended to be far cleaner and clearly cared for.
Some of the tourist and coastal areas?
Not so much.
Whether that’s because they’re heavily used for part of the year and then quieter for the rest, I don’t know.
But coming from the UK and travelling around other parts of Europe, the contrast was sometimes quite bizarre.
To be fair, shortly before our trip there had also been a major storm which had caused a lot of damage in some places.
Trees ripped from the ground.
Sand washed up against beach bars.
That sort of thing.
But storm damage looks very different to overflowing bins, abandoned rubbish and skips that clearly haven’t been touched for a while.
The child’s car incident
One particular beach in Sicily summed the whole thing up for me.
We’d just arrived after a long day of driving.
The beach was one of the worse ones we’d seen for rubbish, although council workers did arrive while we were there and did their best.
Unfortunately, the van they arrived in was so small that they barely scratched the surface.
Anyway.
We headed down to the beach.
No dog signs on this one.
Excellent.
Then we noticed an elderly gentleman approaching a child’s motorised toy car that had clearly been dumped fairly recently.
It was still in really good condition.
Not bleached by the salt or sun.
We thought:
Aww. Maybe he’s going to take it home and fix it for one of his grandchildren.
Lovely.
Why would anyone throw something like that away anyway?
Surely it’s worth something on Facebook Marketplace?
Or give it to a cousin?
A neighbour?
Anyone?
Then…
Oh.
He’s smashing it to pieces with a rock.
Why?
Ohhh.
He’s stripping it for parts.
A child’s toy.
We just stood there watching with our mouths open.
Bizarre.
And yes, I can hear you now:
Come on woman. What has this got to do with taking my dog to Italy?
Quite a lot, actually.
Where there’s rubbish, there can also be animals looking for food
This became one of the biggest differences for us travelling Italy with Luna.
There are stray dogs.
A lot more than we are used to seeing in Britain - well you don't really see them do you!
And stray dogs can naturally become protective of food, shelter or the areas where they spend their time.
It was upsetting at first.
Really upsetting.
For us Brits, seeing dogs wandering around looking for food feels completely unnatural.
Back home, a lost dog can barely stroll five minutes down the road before somebody has posted its photograph on the local Facebook group and called the dog warden.
I appreciate that so much more now.
Seeing dogs wandering around looking for food was difficult.
Honestly, it’s a miracle we didn’t come home with a camper full of them.
We started feeding the strays
We ended up feeding quite a few.
Some were clearly used to tourists.
Eventually we were carrying a second bag of dog food around specifically for them.
Which sounds lovely.
And it was.
But it also created some unforeseen problems.
For one thing, Luna was completely confused.
She couldn’t interact freely with these dogs, so sometimes she had to stay inside while we fed them.
And occasionally, after we’d fed a dog near the camper…
Our camper became their place.
We had dogs sleeping outside.
Which then made Luna’s toilet breaks difficult.
Leaving the camper became tense.
And suddenly our attempt to help had inadvertently made life more complicated for our own dog.
You can’t really win in that situation, can you?
I’d genuinely love advice from people who have travelled extensively in areas with stray dogs, because we absolutely want to go back and I’d like to handle it better next time.
The thing that changed how I saw the stray dogs
Not every stray wanted anything to do with us.
Some had clearly been born and lived outside for a long time and were perfectly happy keeping their distance.
Others were incredibly friendly.
Some wanted food.
Some wanted water.
Some quite clearly wanted a cuddle as well.
But there was one thing that really stood out.
We never saw a skinny one.
The local people were constantly feeding them.
Bowls of food appeared outside houses and businesses.
Some of these so-called stray dogs were so well fed they practically waddled down the road after you.
And the cats were the same.
In built-up areas we found what I can only describe as little cat towns.
Over time, locals had clearly built up shelters for them.
Little houses.
Bowls.
Cosy dens.
Sometimes dozens of them.
And there would be these quiet, content cats curled up inside.
Honestly, this was one of the things that made me fall in love with Italians as a nation.
Whatever problems exist with the system, the people clearly care.
Frank and Fiona
It took me a while to get to that point.
For the first few weeks, I was angry.
We did some reading and started to understand that the way stray dogs are managed there is very different to what we’re used to, in Britain the PTS rate is horrific where as Italy chooses to handle it like this.
Rich kept reminding me of this.
Which was probably sensible considering the amount of crying I did over dogs we had to leave behind.
Especially Frank and Fiona.
My husband named them.
Obviously.
They appeared at one of the places we stopped and left a huge imprint on both of us.
There were several conversations along the lines of:
Could we just put them in the camper and worry about the paperwork later?
Frank was a big guarding-type crossbreed.
Huge softy.
Very affectionate.
He slept outside our camper and seemed to appoint himself as our personal security guard.
Fiona was some sort of bully-type cross.
Completely different.
She had clearly had very little positive interaction with humans and had absolutely no interest in changing that arrangement.
She would take food from a distance.
That was about it.
The two were clearly bonded.
And after spending a few days with them, we had to acknowledge reality.
Frank might have adapted.
Fiona probably wouldn’t.
And they came as a pair.
Besides, Luna would have packed her bags and moved out.
She was not a fan.
Eventually I had another thought.
How conceited are we as humans to assume that these dogs would automatically want to live with us anyway?
Cold Britain.
Less freedom.
Our lifestyle.
Get over yourself.
Frank seemed perfectly content tarting himself out to tourists every week, sampling whatever food and treats they happened to bring him.
And he certainly didn’t seem short of offers.
Travelling with Luna changed because of the strays
This was the practical part I hadn’t anticipated.
Even when we stayed on campsites with clear dogs must be kept on leads rules, stray dogs would occasionally wander through.
Most we encountered were perfectly polite.
But not all.
At one campsite there was a known stray called Wilma.
She was very people friendly.
She also took an immediate dislike to Luna.
The feeling was mutual.
Cue barking and growling whenever either one caught sight of the other.
This made leaving Luna tied outside the camper pretty much impossible.
If an off-lead dog wandered over to her while she was tethered, that didn’t seem fair.
And we can’t watch her every second.
Naturally, as a working-line Border Collie, Luna feels very strongly that she should live outside approximately 24 hours a day.
Eating inside?
Offensive.
Coming in because it’s chilly?
Unacceptable.
Avoiding midges?
Weakness.
Her favourite place is underneath the camper.
Normally she happily lies there for hours.
But in many of the places we stayed, I just couldn’t relax enough to let her do it.
Because I catastrophise.
It’s one of my skills.
Would I take my dog back to Italy?
1000%.
Despite everything I’ve just written.
Would I do things differently?
Also yes.
Next time, I’m taking some small temporary fencing for around the camper.
Then Luna can have her outside space and I can have some inner peace while I read a book or get on with work.
I’d also take a spare dog bowl specifically for feeding or watering stray dogs.
And yes.
We’ll probably still take extra food.
Because apparently I’ve learnt nothing.
Next time we also want to explore much more inland.
Many of the inland and residential places we passed through felt completely different to some of the coastal tourist spots.
And there is an enormous amount of Italy we still haven’t seen.
Puglia…
Here we come.
So, is Italy dog friendly?
The people?
Absolutely.
Possibly more dog friendly than human friendly.
Your dog may receive far more attention than you do.
Restaurants, cafés and bars were incredibly welcoming in our experience.
Many beaches were too.
The food is excellent.
Although if, like me, seafood isn’t really your thing and there is a limit to the number of pizzas one human can consume…
Head inland.
The quality of the food we found there was incredible.
Some coastal areas were much dirtier than I expected.
We tried litter picking ourselves at times.
It felt futile when the bins were already overflowing.
And then there are the dogs.
The stray dogs will absolutely melt your heart.
Be prepared for some very serious conversations about bringing one — or all of them — home.
Should you take your dog to Italy?
For me, it depends on your dog.
If you have a super-social dog who gets along happily with pretty much every dog they meet?
I wouldn’t hesitate.
Go.
If you have a more reactive or nervous dog?
I’d still go.
We would.
But I would plan ahead.
Think about where you stay.
Think about how you’ll give your dog safe outside space.
Be prepared for off-lead dogs and strays to appear even in places where you perhaps wouldn’t expect them.
And don’t assume campsite rules mean every dog within that campsite is going to be attached to an owner.
Italy was not necessarily the easiest country we’ve travelled through with Luna.
But would that stop me going back?
Not even slightly.
For all its contradictions, it completely got under our skin.
The people.
The food.
The dogs.
The chaos.
The warmth.
The moments where I stood staring at a sign while Rich walked straight past it with Luna.
All of it.
Italy?
We’ll definitely be back.
