£85 poodle perfume and private jets: How the super-rich look after their dogs

Mabel is inspecting a darkened room containing six well-appointed yoga mats (blankets, pillows, fluffy pads). “She’ll probably settle in a few moments,” Carla von Anhalt tells me. “But even if she doesn’t, I can try some distance-reiki on her.”

She does settle surprisingly quickly and von Anhalt massages her gently – tummy, legs and back – before moving on to reiki, a form of energy healing. So far, so normal. However, Mabel is a dog and von Anhalt an animal healer and co-founder of Sacred Tones, a new studio in Fulham that offers yoga, breathwork, sound baths and massage for humans – and dogs.

When I first heard about Sacred Tones’ animal sessions, my sceptical muscles flicked into overdrive, although perhaps not as much as yours did reading those first two paragraphs. Mabel is a tiny Havanese, but she’s a rough-and-tumble little dog who walks for miles and miles (every year she does a four-day stretch of the South West Coast path with us) and loves muddy puddles and sniffing round horses’ fields as much as she likes scavenging for crumbs on the Tube or sneaking on to the banquettes when I’m having lunch at Maison François or The Park, two of my favourite London restaurants (not least because they have the excellent sense to welcome dogs). She eats air-dried organic raw meat and fish but has never worn a tutu, nor to my knowledge, been referred to as a fur baby.

However, I love reiki and sound baths, finding both an effective source of stress management. Maybe Mabel could benefit, too. After all, even my husband, a solid northern bloke with zero tolerance of woo, loves sound baths as well – the vibrations, he says, have helped his chronic back problems.

But enough of him. If Mabel could manage to sit still long enough, and not bark maniacally at von Anhalt as she is occasionally – ahem – prone to doing, I figured her reiki session would provide an interesting and illuminating insight into its general effectiveness. Given that dogs possess neither the gene for cynicism nor for susceptibility to hype, she would be coming at it pure, with no preconceptions. If it worked, then it really worked.

That still leaves the question: what would working look like? “Reiki and massage”, says von Anhalt, “can help untangle behavioural issues in dogs, working on their energy points and relaxing them”. Mabel has no behavioural issues, obvs. Apart that is, from the barking outbursts – and did I mention her pathological mistrust of children? – but she might enjoy it.

She did. We floated out. Mabel on a cloud of zen, me armed with crystals, a soothing blend of essential oils called What the Floof? and a copy of You Can Heal Your Pet by Dr Rohini Sathish, a vet, and Elizabeth Whiter, a complementary therapist for animals, with whom von Anhalt, who is a member of the Healing Animals Organisation, trained.

At home, von Anhalt recommended using high-reward items such as bits of chicken or cheese to create more positive experiences with children and strangers. She suggested speaking to children about Mabel’s fears in a way they can relate to, giving them an example of what can make her fearful and showing them how to interact with her in a more playful, less triggering way, and sent me some massage techniques that take about five to 10 minutes in the evening. The upshot? Even my eye-rolling daughters have conceded that Mabel is ultra chilled since her reiki, and a couple of friends have now booked their dogs at Sacred Tones… we will return.

This is clearly far from the way our family dogs in the 1970s were brought up, with their cheap-as-chips tins of Chappie, helpings of actual chips and long stretches of home-alone time. We liked our dogs back then, but now we adore them. “For many empty nesters, they’re almost a child replacement,” says Karen Hanton MBE, founder of petspyjamas.com, a booking website for travellers seeking dog-friendly hotels and spas. “But I see many younger people too, who are maybe choosing not to have children, or waiting a little bit longer to start their families, and dipping their toe in with a dog.”

The earliest signs that people were becoming ever more dotty about their dogs came in the 2010s, when brands such as Gucci, Celine, Loro Piana and Christian Louboutin began selling dog collars, leads and beds. Since then, according to Fflur Roberts, global head of luxury goods at euromonitor.com, “it’s exploded”. The global pet market is predicted to reach £267 billion by 2029.

Some would argue that we’re in late-stage decadence when a brand such as Versace can charge £915 for an admittedly large, baroque canine bed, and clearly a lot of this is more about human gratification than the dogs, who do not – yet – manifest a preference for designer logos. This surge of love has spawned an economic support system: dog walkers, doggie day care, dog groomers and more and more premium foods that vaunt their ecological, organic and pro- and prebiotic qualities.

The Duchess of Sussex is in on the act: debuting her new lifestyle brand American Riviera Orchard by sending friends posh dog biscuits. Meanwhile, Jude’s, the upmarket ice cream brand founded by Theo Mezger, which is stocked at Waitrose, collaborated with vets at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home to develop a plant-based dog-friendly recipe using real fruit purées. It was tested on the Mezger’s family Jack Russell, Tinker. (If you wish to check out the nutritional value of your dog’s diet, allaboutdogfood.co.uk is an independently funded website that gives the lowdown on scores of brands.)

The upside of all this is an increase in our collective knowledge about what makes a dog healthy and happy. Gaynor Jackson, a retired dog groomer with two Norfolk terriers, Archie and Nacho, and founder of woofabout.co.uk, which organises weekly dog markets in upmarket postcodes, including London’s Islington Square, says, “Dog parents do a lot more research before they buy now. There’s a move away from pet supermarkets to brands that are more transparent about their supply chains.”

It seems that we’ve gone from a time when the only place you could take your dog along with you when you went out to eat was a country pub, to cinema groups such as Picturehouse offering dog-friendly screenings for humans who want to discuss the symbolism of Yorgos Lanthimos with their four-legged companions. Jackson’s weekly dog market, meanwhile, sells everything from leads to dog yoga and canine gut testing. Encouragingly, what we’re seeing in this increased spending is a rise in products that help dogs’ physical and mental wellbeing. Swish neighbourhoods increasingly approach Jackson to launch her markets in their locality. “They see it as a way to advertise the dog-friendly venues in the area,” she explains.

Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana, both dog nuts, concur about the importance of following common-sense health protocols. The duo have just launched an £85 alcohol-free scent for dogs called Fefé, named in honour of Dolce’s poodle. “It was crucial the fragrance was carefully designed for dogs, suitable for their hair and skin,” says Dolce. It’s bound to be a hit with dog-owning D&G fans, but that’s not why they did it. “You know us,” says Gabbana. “We’re impulsive and passionate. In this particular case, we wanted to pay homage to our love for animals – particularly dogs –who have always been a part of our lives, of our family, filling it with joy.”

I’m a bit cautious about this. Depending on their breed, dogs’ sense of smell is 10,000-100,000 times more powerful than humans’. I hate to think of them being driven insane by certain overpowering aromas. Fefé, however, is actually rather subtle. But I decide to email von Anhalt to get her advice. She is dubious: if your dog really smells, it may require a vet rather than a scent. Her advice with any fragrance, including the What the Floof calming balm oil, is to dab it on to a tissue rather than directly on her skin so Mabel can walk away if she doesn’t like it (on the previous spread, the image of the scent bottle was digitally superimposed after the shot of Mabel was taken).

Celebrity hairdresser George Northwood, whose two whippets, Willow and Mimi, require minimal bathing, launched his dog shampoo Undirty in response to client demands. “They loved our human range and wanted something that looked and smelled as good in their bathrooms,” he says. Formulated specially for dogs, it smells of Parma Violets and, unlike the versions for humans, contains sulphates. “We keep that out of the human range because it can strip colour, but dogs need something that will get them clean.”

“The thing that amazes me is pet travel,” says Euromonitor’s Fflur Roberts. “The recent launches of K9 Jets, a pet-dedicated private charter company, and Bark Air, for those who want to travel in style with their dogs in the cabin might, sound like the ultimate indulgence for animals” – we’re talking business-class prices and onboard paw massages in the case of Bark Air – “but it’s about the owners really – they don’t want to be separated from their beloved companions,” adds Robert. “Most of us would rather not have our pets travel in cargo if we can help it.”

Dogs, as anyone who has spent any time with them knows, are highly intelligent and responsive. In 2015 Ludwig Huber, who runs the Clever Dog Lab at the University of Vienna, tested 18 dogs on face recognition and concluded they were all able to distinguish between happy and angry facial expressions. In his bestselling 2013 book, How Dogs Love Us, Gregory Berns, a neuroscientist and owner of a terrier called Callie, successfully used MRI scans (without restraining his patients) to track dogs’ brains and emotions. His conclusion? Dogs should be treated as we would treat our best human friends: with love, respect, and appreciation for their social and emotional intelligence.

Hanton, of PetsPyjamas, recognises this only too well. Back in 2017, she was checking in at a supposedly dog-friendly hotel when the receptionist suggested that Wilson, Hanton’s Parson Jack Russell, might like to sleep in the car. Fast forward to 2024 and her website lists hundreds of genuinely dog-friendly hotels and Airbnbs.

“The fact is that with something like 50 per cent of UK households now home to a dog, it makes commercial sense,” she says. Hanton adds that facilities at hotels range from the functional – comfortable dog beds and organic menus and treats – to the more fanciful, including spa treatments and bottles of water monogrammed with your hound’s name. Nobu offers special Paws & Relax treats for its four-legged visitors; the Edgerton can arrange a portrait of your pet. At the Lygon Arms in the Cotswolds dogs can select from a menu devised by James Martin.

Meanwhile, The Connaught’s concierge service has had to service all kinds of requests, from the 20 King Charles spaniels that visited during the King’s Coronation, to a client who commissioned a Savile Row suit for their dog. I’ve heard from other couturiers, who off the record, confessed they had sometimes designed for the clients’ pooches. “I’m sure there are people raising their eyebrows at all this,” says Hanton, “but dogs are an integral part of families now – and, let’s face it, they’re very appreciative and generous with their gratitude.”