Oh no, there’s a dog on this train and he’s sitting in one of the best seats. Can I complain? Is this legal in Paris? Would Parisians even care if it wasn’t? What’s the status of dogs on public transport in France?

Currently I’m on a train stationed in Montparnasse en route to Bordeaux Saint-Jean, having flown here from Athens for a taste of France’s prestigious wine region. The train is packed to the rafters, but as I come to learn, there are some unusual travellers on board.

Our seats are upstairs, business class, of course. Dragging even a small bag that far up was no mean feat, but to be stared at by a dog, a scruffy one at that, when those impossibly slow electric doors eventually open to allow access to our seats, seems like a mirage from the exhaustion of 24 hours of travel.

What’s more, this unexpected traveller has a snooty look on his face that any canine raised in Paris might have (you know that snobby expression, possibly mimicking their owner). Unaware of French laws that allow canines to travel by train and fearful that a veritable zoo of animals could march in at any minute, I yearn for the train to get getting.

Now I need to use the toilet, which means another challenge with those automatic temperamental doors, coupled with having to avoid a long tail attached to the aforesaid dog that’s now stretched across the aisle.

To add further discomfort, our seats are facing the opposite direction to our destination. Riding backwards isn’t a first choice. But this four legged creature is now perched at the window looking so relaxed and comfortable. Needless to say, he’s facing the right way, as he stares at me with a look that seems to beg the question: “Got any treats?”.

All humans and dogs aboard, it’s time to exit Montparnasse. A few passengers complain about their seat facing in the wrong direction, one saying she’ll be sick any minute if she can’t move hers. But Buster refuses to heed her call and reclines in his seat. But he pops up again, staring at me with a pomposity that’s simultaneously alluring and revolting.

Now he’s on the floor. Sauntering across to a passenger in the opposite row, the pooch has a sniff – I bet that’s not in the Canine Train Travel Book of Rules (if one exists!).  Dogs just can’t help themselves.

As the train rattles through the chequered fields of the French countryside, I wonder what this dog thinks of being on the train? His movements are restricted; he can’t lift his leg or do anything worse. Can he? Would he? No point complaining – the trip’s only two hours. Accept the things I can’t change and move on.

As the TGV inQui thunders down the track, curiosity gets the better of me. I make a polite move to find Buster’s real name. En route to the dining car (oh hell, I’ll have to manoeuvre those angry glass doors again while the train sways from side to side), I lean into the owners and ask the name that their darling answers to.  Discovering quickly that Buster is actually of the female persuasion, I ask for permission to pat Carla, while making small talk with her adoring parents: “She’s a Spanish hunting dog and doesn’t like travelling (you could have fooled me!),” her owner explains.  “She’s still a pup (at 1 year and 6 months). She’s a Podenco, originating in Spain, a type of hound that runs crazy when let out in an open field,” Carla’s mum continues, as I check to see if there’s an open exit window nearby that could tempt this Podenco’s desire to run free. The talk continues: “I’m surprised Australians don’t let dogs on train,” she says, at which point her travelling companion adds, with a strong French accent, “No surprise. I knew that. But the Dutch are free with dogs and train travel, but I don’t think the English do.” He’s wrong about the English I discover. You can bring two dogs on a train on leads, and they can’t sit on seats and travel in first class at no fee! And in certain circumstances, even Aussies let man’s best friend aboard. Quelle horreur!

However, as time ticks on, getting up close and personal to Carla, I change my tune. She’s a nice ‘mutt’ and has an entourage of friends in the carriage. I come to learn there’s a small brown dog with no distinguishing features crouching carefully under a seat opposite. A few seats down there’s Sally, a miniature dash hound really enjoying the ride and a few treats.

A sign comes up on the train’s public computer screen outlining restrictions on the use of mobile phones, but no message about dogs barking! We humans do need to be regularly curbed.

Between the villages of Pontiere and Angoulême, about 45 minutes out of Bordeaux Saint-Jean, Carla and family alight, along with a small contingency of much-loved pets. I wave at the family who return the gesture, though I forgot to ask their names, as is the custom with dog owners!

The carriage now feels empty, the fun has gone – or so I think, until spying a cat cuddled up to its owner in a trendy pouch.  But when it comes to animals on trains, I much prefer man’s best friend.