For those who live in a place where tail-wagging friends are almost regarded as equals (I’m thinking of a country and it begins with the letter “F”), this shouldn’t be news. But for those of us here in Italy, Ikea’s fairly new policy of allowing dogs in the store is quite the bark of the day. All that’s required is a muzzle and a leash, and Fido will at last come to learn what you actually meant when your parting words were “See you in a bit, I’m going shopping.”
Now the westie has been all over Europe: Spain, Paris, Germany, Switzerland and just about every corner of Italy, but she has never had to wear a muzzle. This means that it became a struggle of wills because if you know anything about westies, they are as stubborn as heck. We ultimately had to carry her so that she couldn’t paw off the offending restraint, but she is super-friendly with everyone and would never bite a soul. On the flip side of the coin, she pees out of excitement whenever anyone gives her attention, and for that I was getting a tad irritated with everyone that came up to greet her.
On the contrary, the doxie likes to keep to himself. This is my space, that is yours, stay away from me. We were surprised that he didn’t freak out for the unfamiliar surroundings and when we were cutting fabric in the material section, he found himself a hiding spot under the table. Of course, this didn’t mean he received any less attention from shoppers but they could tell that Mister B was antisocial and refrained from invading his space.
The best thing about Ikea for me is the gourmet section, and I have to say that if this is even remotely what swedish food is all about, then I LIKE! Last night we felt like having swedish meatballs and pickled herring and all I kept thinking was that if I hadn’t grown up in Hawaii, I might not even like herrings done this way. I like fish no matter how it’s prepared, but this stuff is delish!