I’m sobbing into my arm – how could I have left Muggles at home?

With no idea that her favourite hotel in Cornwall had become so dog-friendly, with pawsecco on the menu, Charlotte Cripps feels bereft that she left her canine companion behind. But is her grief misplaced?

(Illustration by Amara May)

It’s a well-known fact that owners are like their dogs, you can usually spot it a mile away. Now I’m starting to realise that Muggles embodies both my looks and personality. I’d never really contemplated the idea before. But as I’m sitting in a hotel lobby in Cornwall with my dad, Lola and Liberty, it becomes crystal clear.  

He’s a bit like I was in my drinking days when I would arrive at a party looking like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, but soon turn into a monster. His drug of choice is food, but his single-mindlessness and desperation for a fix visibly all-consuming.

He’s the type of dog who rips open a black bin liner as we pass it in the street – his constant hunger for food is like mine was for substances – so can you imagine what he would be like let loose in a swanky hotel.

Tough love doesn’t work on Muggles. There is no hope of rehabilitation, like there was for me

But thinking about the reality of Muggles in Cornwall doesn’t make his absence any easier; he is part of my family.  Tough love doesn’t work on Muggles. There is no hope of rehabilitation, like there was for me. The vet has simply told me just to tie him to a table leg if we are eating.

To make matters worse, the hotel even has a special dog menu with “pawsecco” – a type of prosecco for dogs. It’s like that naff dog birthday party I was invited to in Notting Hill when I got sent an invitation for Muggles from the owner saying “Let’s Pawty”.

She had invited more than 18 dogs – all wearing party hats – to play games. Trying to line them up to eat dog cupcakes was ridiculous. Muggles got to the entire party food within seconds and nearly bit my hand off when I tried to pull a brown bag of turkey and cranberry handmade biscuits out of his mouth.

Muggles got to the entire party food within seconds and nearly bit my hand off

But still – how could I have left him at home? If I had purchased one of those massive waist harnesses with a lead, surely I could have kept him away from guests’ food? Would he then have had fleeting moments of freedom, running along the cliffs with the wind flapping in his ears?  

I try to shake the feeling off. We are on holiday and it’s my dad’s first trip out of his house since lockdown began in March. He took a muscle relaxant just to survive the six-hour car journey. It made me nervous. How relaxed are we talking? Was he planning to shit his pants?

But now we are here, I can’t stop thinking of Muggles. My heart sinks as I see all the guests with their beloved dogs by their side at dinner. “Why can’t I have a normal dog?”, I say to myself. Had Alex not died three days after we had got Muggles, and had I been in the right headspace to train him, would his ravenous food addiction have been tamed? Would he be here with us? Sitting by my feet at breakfast? I’m having a bout of mum guilt about the dog when I see another white golden retriever on the beach.

“Look, it’s Muggles!” shouts Liberty – and a tear rolls down my cheek. Soon I’m sobbing into my arm by a rock pool. Is my grief misplaced?

It brings back memories of people loved and lost – my mum and half-sister who both died of cancer

The wind is howling but the view out to sea is breathtaking, with huge swelling waves battering the rocks. It conjures up so many memories. I have been coming to this hotel since I was a baby.  

Every summer as children, all seven of us – my two brothers, two sisters, mum and dad – were packed into the blue Peugeot 505 estate. In those days we got the Motorail from from Olympia to St Austell – and slept on the train, before disembarking and driving towards the Lizard.

I show Lola and Liberty all the landmarks: where I had my first kiss at the hotel disco, the monsters garden where I would pop red lantern-like flowers, and Lover’s Rock that looked like a couple kissing.  

It brings back memories of people loved and lost – my mum and half-sister who both died of cancer. I came here with Alex for my dad’s 74th birthday party; I walk past the exact room we slept in.  

I remember Alex saying he had never seen such a beautiful place. That night we slept with the curtains open so we could see the moonlight and hear the waves crashing. He had survived a holiday with my entire family. Even my drunk sister-in-law putting her hand on his knee under the table. But would I survive this one alone?