I left HULA at nineteen because I was offered a job in Italy, and at nineteen that’s basically the same as being offered a starring role in your own adventure film.
I interviewed during the World Dog Show in Birmingham. I shook hands, tried to look older than my face would allow, and said “Yes, of course,” to everything in that confident way teenagers do when they haven’t yet been properly introduced to consequences.
The job was in Torre d’Arese, just outside Milan, with Edvige Ubiali - a world-class breeder of Rough Collies.
Rough Collies, for the uninitiated, are Lassie dogs. You don’t “own” a Lassie dog. You curate one. They’re basically a moving piece of art that sheds.
Edvige also bred Smooth Collies - same dog, just with short back and sides. If Rough Collies are a shampoo advert, Smooth Collies are the same model the day after: still breathtaking, just less wind machine.
We drove to Hull first to pick up a bitch called Copper.
Copper was the most beautiful dog I had ever seen. A Smooth Collie with a toffee front that melted into lighter caramel from midriff to tail, hazel eyes like she’d been painted by someone who’d had a small glass of wine and a lot of confidence. She was the Sophia Loren of dogs - and if you know, you know.
Then it was Birmingham to Hull, ferry to Rotterdam, and straight on through the night to Italy.
At the time it felt romantic. Looking back, it feels like the opening scene of every cautionary tale your future self tries to tell your younger self and gets ignored.
Because the second I arrived, reality turned up, sat down, and said: “Right. Let’s have a word.”