Looking across the Italian mountains last night, I could see how this rugged yet beautiful, challenging yet bountiful country had bred the men to rule the world. I hadn't bargained for the way it had bred their dogs!
Canis 1 was a bit of comedy, trying a kamikaze (or possibly gladiatorial) strike as I was steaming downhill at full tilt. After it had failed to get under my wheels, it had no chance.
Canis 2 was a bit more cunning, stalking up from in front as I stopped to navigate, again on a downhill. Sprinting has never been my strong suit, but I managed to get it to back off enough that I could ask the favour of the gods to turn me into Mario Cipo, and to let my pedal clip in first time. The gods smiled on me; I out foxed and outsprinted the hound.
Canis 3 was by far the scariest. I had arrived at Montemonaco, the village containing the hostel, but had no food. One street contained a massive dog - possibly a Great Pyranean - that took exception to my being the same road the first time I ventured there, but the rest of the village had not even a lighted window, let alone a taverna, and the dog was now nowhere to be seen, so down Via Canis I flew. The other end turned out to lead nowhere, so back I turned. One house on Via Canis did have a lighted window, so I went round back to try to scrounge a loaf.
'Clang!' That was my foot hitting a dog bowl. 'Grrrrrrr' That was the dog, rising into view. It was Cerberus himself, his eyes glowing in my light, and Hades must have been hot today because he didn't look happy. No, he didn't look happy at all. What's the window for getting a rabies jab? How long would it take to get me somewhere where they had them? This could really ruin my holiday. I maintained eye contact, tried to look large and started to slowly back away, with regular shouts of "F*ck off dog!" - I hoped the owners would hear and call him off, but no joy there. Eventually I made it up the driveway and onto the road, and fled to the hostel where I managed to find the warden - no mean feat itself - and scrounge the loaf that had so nearly cost me dear.
That was yesterday. Today's dog count is a big fat zero, but I've already seen enough Italian dogs to last me a lifetime.
