our animal friends, part 2

I have to say that on the whole—with one big exception—I’m pretty impressed by Roman dogs. Let’s get that exception out of the way, first: I’m of course referring to those big steaming piles of exceptions that litter the streets of my neighborhood. Pooper scoopers haven’t caught on, I’m afraid; it’s the rare dog owner you see following his pooch around, plastic bag in hand. They do exist: more common than Bigfoot (if not by much); seeing one is a National Geographic-worthy occurence.

Leaving that aside, though, dogs you see in Rome mostly seem to be a well-behaved bunch. Lots of them are off-leash, and it’s rarely a problem: they pad along in front of their master, sniffing at the occasional tree, but mostly heading in a straight line to wherever they’re going. They’re pretty much all business: I mean, I’m not in the habit of dangling pork chops in front of dogs’ noses, but as far as I can tell, it’s hard to distract them. For the dogs, it's all about getting the job of doggitude done, and to that I say: kudos!

I took this photo a few weeks back, in front of one of the bakeries near my house. I’d gone in to get a little snack, and when I came out, saw this pack of dachshunds parked outside, leashed to a ring in the wall. Also a couple of boys playing with them; I thought it was cute, and snapped a few photos, as the kids mugged for the camera. It was only after I got home that I realized that they weren’t hugging the dogs; they were sort of, um, strangling them… Still, I’ve seen both the dogs and the boys since them, so everybody seems to have survived okay.