Today (Tuesday) while passing the cash at a great little restaurant in Sorrento (Il Pozzo – one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had!) a very shaggy and very friendly dog peaked his head around the corner of the counter. I said hello and gave him a scratch; the cashier immediately apologized but I assured her it was more than okay and that I wished I could rub my twos’ hairy little heads about now. I guess she was expecting the normal North American reaction of: Oh my god a dog in the restaurant Harry, where are the health authorities? Get the Purettes immediately!
Here of course if you go for pranzo, your morning coffee or shopping it’s not unusual to take the dog with you. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen dogs lying contentedly under a table, occasional looking up to get a table scrap or simply to stretch and see who else has arrived. Or sitting patiently at the counter while their owner had their cappucc and cornetti – maybe catching the odd flake scattered from errant lips that were expressing an opinion of world events and eating at the same time – both with the same gusto. Or dogs attached to the wall fixtures outside shops meant to secure even the strongest leash – most waiting patiently but occasionally giving a sharp bark just to remind their owner who was outside waiting patiently while they argued over the price of arugula!
However I was still surprised, and amused when I opened the window at our B and B on Friday morning and saw:
Obviously his human had gone in to hear an early mass for
Ognisanti and buddy was waiting patiently. He remained that way for
almost 20 minutes.
Finally mass was over and a stream of people left the church - he only moved to greet his owner with a wagging tail and a few barks. Maybe asking if she felt better about things now? Or maybe just as a “move along its time for coffee and cornetti”.
November 4 - 1921: The Italian unknown soldier is buried in the Altare della Patria in Rome.
3 comments:
Very clever title for this post!
Dogs are marvelous companions, indeed.
I must tell you about the dog who followed us all the way down a 1000 metre descent on the island of Capraia and joined us in our afternoon bathe. When we couldn't find the little piles of stones on the way up and got horribly bloodied in the macchia, dog disappeared. When J discovered he was not to die on the mountainside and we regained the path, dog reappeared in front, as if to say, where the hell have you been? When we arrived back at the village in the dark, he (or she) turned out to be called Dana and belonged to the cheerful local putana, who told us he (or she) always loved to accompany tourists on their jaunts.
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