Naples part XI: Dogs

The Italians love dogs. Or, rather they love to have dogs running around everywhere, all the time and make noise when the Italians aren't there to make it themselves. It works beautifully, especially in the middle of the night. Even the tiniest village in that country is never peaceful. If it's not a moped or a car driving past your window and honking because they wish to warn any potential traffic coming in the opposite direction (yes, they did this outside my window!) you can be sure it's a dog or ten conversing across the roofs in their usual manner.

Most Italian dogs run around freely, and it can often be difficult for the uninitiated to tell if they actually have a home or not. The climate is such that dogs can usually survive quite well outside all year long, and the greaseballs - bless their polluting little hearts - leave enough scraps and shit out in nature that a dog can also find food. At Pompeii I saw a sign about the dogs that roam this ghost city; they actually have a program where you can donate money for food and veterinary services, etc. The sign said that dogs had always been a part of the city of Pompeii and they wanted to keep it that way. I found it strangely endearing.

In my experience Italian dogs are very friendly. Owner or not, they will often come right up to you and let themselves be petted or maybe beg for food (show me a dog that doesn't beg for food and I'll show you a dead dog!). About halfway up Vesuvius there's a side road that leads to the former chairlift up to the top. The chairs are long gone, but there's a small shop there where they sell things carved out of volcanic stone (more about that in a later post). They had four dogs - one of them was chained outside, but the other three roamed freely, barking at everything and nothing whenever the urge took them.

This fat Golden Retriever (?) was very friendly. As broad as a barn door, she came in when I was looking at the volcanic figures and promptly keeled over with her legs in the air, waiting for me to rub her belly. Naturally, I obliged.


This is Zero. A mutt of unknown origins I never saw him without something in his mouth, and he was parading around looking very pleased with himself. He was especially pleased when he yanked 30 euros out of my hand and walked around the shop for a minute before we managed to stop him and salvage the money...


This German Shepherd (the only thing named "german" that I have a soft spot for) was snoring his little heart out inside the grounds of Pompeii. Probably homeless.