Living in France with a reactive dog? Here's what it's really like—from off-lead dog encounters to cultural surprises, a pet professional shares her experience navigating life with a reactive pup abroad.
Bonjour from Baguette-Land (Where Dogs Roam Free... Literally)
Let me just start by saying: I love France. The bread, the buildings, the ability to eat cheese for lunch and feel fancy. But raising a reactive dog here? That’s been... less crème brûlée and more burnt baguette.
Back in the UK, our girl Loona and I had a system. We had secure dog fields, swimming pools for pups, and a magical thing called the colour-coded lead system — where your dog's accessories actually meant something. Orange meant "Keep your dog away unless you fancy a vet bill." Simple, right?
Not here.
Reactive Dog? Not Their Problem (Apparently)
Loona is dog-reactive — not because she’s a “bad dog,” but because she’s been attacked multiple times. Off-lead dogs. No warning. Owners too busy shouting "Il est gentil!" as their dog barrels toward us like a furry torpedo.
She’s been bitten — twice. Once by a bull breed and once by a German Shepherd. Vet care required. Did the owners take responsibility?
Nope.
Just a good ol’ shouting match in the street, followed by them disappearing into the ether.
So now, walks are a calculated risk. And as someone who’s worked professionally with animals — as a pet carer, dog walker, even in zoos — it makes me genuinely sad that I now feel anxious walking my own dog.
The Orange Lead That Speaks to No One
In the UK, people know the colour code system. Yellow means nervous. Red means reactive. Purple means training. It’s a quiet language of respect among dog people.
Here? I might as well hang a sign that says “Free treats – please ignore personal space.”
Loona wears an orange warning label and... no one seems to care. Either it’s not recognised here, or people assume it’s a fashion statement. (To be fair, she does wear it well.)
The Joys of River Dips and Long Lines
She Does Love a River Dip
There are still lovely things here. We’ve found beautiful walks and she absolutely lives for her river swims — safely tethered on her long line like a soggy, suspicious eel.
But I miss the doggy swimming pools back in the UK — the luxury spa days with floaty toys and hydrotherapy jets. She deserves a five-star splash, not just a mucky stream and a towel that smells like cheese.
Pet Culture Shock (and Cockapoo Whiplash)
Here’s another thing I’ve noticed: the breeds are different.
In the UK, we’re drowning in cockapoos. In France? It’s Malinois and Aussies everywhere. I’m pretty sure there’s one hiding in my hedge as I type this.
And while we Brits are slightly obsessed with pampering our pets (pet bakeries, personalised bandanas, dog yoga, anyone?), my corner of France feels a bit... behind. I’m not sure if there’s a lack of demand or just a lack of people offering it, but it makes me wonder — is there a quiet market just waiting to be served?
Final Thought
Living in France with a reactive dog has been a mix of beautiful walks, cultural confusion, and deep sighs into her harness. I wouldn’t trade our life here, but I do miss the understanding, the options, and the oddball pet businesses we took for granted in the UK.
To anyone navigating this journey too: I see you. And your dog. And the orange lead no one notices.