We think our dogs belong to us, but sometimes they have greater masters—a tennis ball, a bit of steak, or an unseen spirit that lures them away just when we call their name. After visiting Pompeii, I’m convinced that it’s also possible for a dog to belong to a place. The...
Last week we were in Rome, using a fragile map to navigate its labyrinthine lanes. One evening we went into a bistro, drawn by the gaslight in the window. A beaming young waiter greeted us, introducing himself as Francesco. His English was only slightly better than our Italian, but fortunately,...
We think our dogs belong to us, but sometimes they have greater masters—a tennis ball, a bit of steak, or an unseen spirit that lures them away just when we call their name. After visiting Pompeii, I’m convinced that it’s also possible for a dog to belong to a place. The...
Last week we were in Rome, using a fragile map to navigate its labyrinthine lanes. One evening we went into a bistro, drawn by the gaslight in the window. A beaming young waiter greeted us, introducing himself as Francesco. His English was only slightly better than our Italian, but fortunately,...