Under the Tuscan Sun: Reflections of a Broad Abroad

Let me confess up front, I’m a committed Anglophile. I love castles, cathedrals, and country cottages. So virtually all my international travels—with the exception of short visits to Paris and Helsinki when my husband had business there—have focused on Great Britain.


And although I took advantage of an opportunity to visit Ireland two summers ago, it wasn’t exactly a giant leap for me…although I discovered that the Emerald Isle definitely has a charm and beauty all its own.

Recently I decided it was time to broaden my cultural horizons. So a friend and I packed our bags, left our husbands, dogs, and—in her case—teenage sons, at home and headed to Italy.

Rather than try to cram lots of sites and sights into 9 short days, we decided to limit ourselves to “just” Tuscany. Rome, Venice, Milan, and the Amalfi coast would have to wait for other trips.

Why Tuscany? Well, first, there’s the stunning countryside characterized by vineyards, groves of olive trees, and hillsides punctuated by tall, narrow cypress trees; think Diane Lane in “Under the Tuscan Sun.”

Then there’s the art. Florence, in particular, is an art lover’s paradise, with museums, cathedrals, and public buildings designed by—or chock full of works by—Leonardo, Michelangelo, Titian, Lippi and other “names” studied by college students the world over.

And of course there’s the food and wine. Photos in Gourmet and Bon Appetit fueled images of meals from which memories are made.

But I’ll admit I was just the slightest bit apprehensive. After all, I don’t speak Italian (although I did make a point of learning some phrases and cultural practices in order to improve communications and avoid giving offense). Plus, we’d heard about amorous Italian men pinching the bottoms of female tourists. And, upon hearing that we were renting a car, many people had responded with an incredulous, “You’re driving in Italy? Are you crazy?”

So what did we find? A place of beauty and contrasts that fulfilled both our expectations and, to a lesser extent, our fears.

The countryside—with its famous hill towns—was indeed stunning…although the famous Tuscan sun remained hidden behind clouds for the first couple of days. And Florence WAS full of amazing art, both inside and out, with incredible sights around every corner.

With regard to food, let me just say, “pasta,” “gelato,” “tiramisu,” “cappuccino,” and “burrata mozzarella”! And the wine was just as good, especially the vernaccia di San Gimignano, a refreshing white wine made with grapes grown in the San Gimignano area. My taste buds were happy every day. In fact, the only mediocre meal we had was a slice of pizza at a touristy dive near the Ponte Vecchio.

Language—specifically, our inability to speak more than the most basic of Italian—turned out not to be the obstacle we thought it would be. Most Italians we met spoke at least some English…and some of them spoke it quite fluently. And bilingual or not, almost everyone was friendly and tried to be helpful.

We were never pinched or hassled in any way…although a salesman did ask my friend if she had a lover. When she explained that she had a husband in the U.S., he suggested she could also have a lover in Italy.

And we did find the stereotype of aggressive Italian drivers to be fairly accurate. Seriously, a car that was just a speck in our rearview mirror one moment could be in our trunk the next! We found the best way to minimize our stress was to stay in the right lane on major highways and to pull off to the side when possible to allow faster drivers to pass. Eventually, we also decided not to worry what other drivers thought of us, sticking to the speed limits and not worrying if drivers behind us were annoyed.

The only type of on-road experience that seriously scared us was when cars or, more often, motorcycles, would pass us on roads with one lane each way…even when another vehicle was approaching from the other direction. The drivers seemed to trust that we and the oncoming truck or car would each move slightly to the right, in effect creating an informal third lane in between. We uttered a few expletives when that happened…and treated ourselves to some well-deserved wine when we got safely to our destination.

In addition to the fear, food, and visual feasts, it was the people we met that I’ll remember most:

The leather salesman who warned us about competitors who would “squeeze you like a lemon!” by trying to sell us overpriced merchandise…while trying to convince my friend to buy a $1500 leather jacket.

The older female British ex-pat or tourist who accosted us on the sidewalk, demanding, “Why must you Americans always be shouting?” And repeating, as we stood there in stupefied silence, “You’re ALWAYS shouting,” before striding away.

The charming—and handsome—Florence hotel manager who explained that it was the fault of police that speeding is a way of life in Italy because if the police gave more tickets, people would drive more slowly.

The lovely English couple on holiday with whom we exchanged travel experiences and impressions of various destinations while enjoying a glass of wine on the hotel terrace.

The woman from London on a business trip we met on a guided walking tour and with whom we shared a cappuccino in an outdoor café.

The nice Americans we met in a café because they overheard us talking about dogs and proudly share photos of their dog.

The off-duty taxi driver, who helped us find our hotel when we got hopelessly lost in Florence.

The gardener at Villa Cicolina, who, no words required, made a point of showing me some of the beauties of the property when he noticed me taking photographs one morning.

And, of course, the people with canine companions in tow…a fact that will come as no surprise to those who know me…or read my blog.

Ciao!

And for those of you planning a trip to Tuscany, we thoroughly enjoyed our stay at the following places:
Villa Cicolina 
Hotel Silla
Hotel L'Antico Pozzo
La Posta Vecchia

MD Pit Bull Ruling: A Crying Shame

Having grown up in New Jersey, the state butt of many jokes, I never thought I’d ever feel ashamed of my adopted state of Maryland. But today I am.

The Maryland Court of Appeals has taken discrimination to a new level, ruling that some dogs—by virtue of their genetic heritage alone—are “inherently vicious,” “aggressive,” and “dangerous.”

Discrimination against pit bull terriers is nothing new. They are already banned in municipalities (including mine) throughout the United States. Although established with the best of intentions—to protect the public—such bans are misguided, costly, and infective; and respected animal welfare organizations have been working, in some cases successfully, to have them overturned.

In my home county of Prince George’s, we have yet to achieve this goal. And now, instead of Prince George’s taking a step forward, the state of Maryland has taken a step back.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of those diehard pit bull lovers who think all pit bulls are—or could be—great dogs. I believe there are pit bulls that because of neglect, mistreatment, or just plain bad genetics cannot safely live in a home environment. But I also believe such dogs exist among the ranks of every breed.

More importantly, I also know from personal experience that there are many wonderful, even-tempered, genetically sound pit bulls who are—or could be if given the chance—extraordinary, loyal, loving companions. Through my work and volunteer activities, I have had the opportunity to meet and interact with many such dogs. Some, including Asha (above)—who was used as “bait” to train fighting dogs and required more than 100 stitches to close her wounds—have suffered greatly at the hands of humans, but have managed to hold onto their faith or learned to trust once again. I’m not sure most people could overcome the odds these dogs have.

But this ruling ignores the existence of such dogs. In a society that, at least in theory, values justice so highly, it provides for none…for pit bull owners, landlords who rent to pit bull owners, the shelters and animal welfare organizations that work tirelessly to find homes for all good dogs in their care…or pit bulls, themselves.

I’m all for personal responsibility and laws that hold people accountable for their actions…and for the actions of their animals. Strong, enforceable dangerous dog laws are useful tools in the public safety arsenal. But breed specific legislation, which by its very nature assumes that some breeds of dogs are “bad,” plain and simple, are not.

If Maryland’s high court ruling stands, homeowners will lose their insurance, renters will lose their homes, pit bull owners will give up their beloved dogs, shelters will fill with pit bulls no one wants…and good dogs—like those below—will die.

And that would be a crying shame.

 

Elegy for Iris

Last week was a difficult one for my friend Denni. She had to make the heartbraking decision to end the life of Iris, her miniature Daschshund. Iris was diagnosed with a neurological cancer back in the early summer. Although treatment extended the duration and quality of her life, Iris eventually succumbed to the effects of this deadly disease. And when it became apparent to Denni that life brought Iris no joy, she gave her beloved companion the final--and most difficult--gift a human can give a canine companion.


Atlhough I can't ease Denni's pain or fill the void left by Iris's death, I can pay tribute to this little dog's life by sharing her story as Denni wrote it for my book A is for Angel: A Dog Lover's Guide to the Alphabet. It expresses better than I ever could the impact Iris had on her human mom's life.





I is for Iris

Iris came into our life with her sister, Lily, her constant companion and protector. In 2000 I was asked by Hearts United for Animals to foster two miniature dachshunds from an abuse case in Pennsylvania. The two sisters had been starved, beaten, and locked in a basement and left to die. They’d then been held at a shelter for two months as evidence in a cruelty case and were relinquished when the abuser was convicted. Of course I said yes. My heart hurt just looking at the tiny dogs, trying to imagine their horrible first two years. I wondered if my daughter, Kelly, and I would be able to help them overcome the pain of their past. But we knew we had to try.

When I took Lily and Iris in, I never asked myself, “What if we fall in love with them?” much less “What happens WHEN we fall in love with them?” But as applications began to come in, I realized that I'd grown to love these “damaged” Doxies a lot; they were such sponges for affection and they gave it back doubled. I was so ambivalent. I worried about handing them over even to a great new home and wondered if anyone else would love them as much as I already did and if they’d be allowed to sleep in their new owner’s bed. Kelly and I already knew they needed to stay together and I felt we could provide the love and attention they so badly needed. So we became “failed” fosters…and a five-dog family!

Despite, or maybe because of, her tough first years, Iris is an upbeat, happy-go-lucky soul. We often watch her wandering the backyard and laugh about “Iris in La La Land.” Her nicknames are Boo (for Yogi Bear’s sidekick, Boo Boo) and Stinker (when she hides under the sofa to escape going outside). Her favorite activities include licking you until you just can’t take anymore, sleeping inside pillowcases, hanging out with Lily, and sitting in the sun. It’s a quiet life—with an occasional outbreak of infectious barking—but she seems happy. Her special skill, according to Kelly, is, “knowing how to make you smile even when you’re upset.”

When Iris was four, she ruptured a disk (a fairly common Doxie problem) and required surgery. When I told friends how much her operation was going to cost, several told me I was crazy, but I just thought about how young Iris was and how big a part of my daughter’s and my life she was. After the surgery, I took her to an acupuncturist. (Now all my friends were sure I was nuts). Just two sessions later, she’d regained her normal sunny disposition and once again wandered—albeit with a little hitch in her gait—in La La Land.

Despite the occasional chaos of a multi-dog household, neither Kelly nor I regret making Iris and Lily part of our family. Both girls have the ability to make us smile even when we’re upset, and, according to Kelly, “Iris has shown me that even in the face of hardship, pain, and suffering, you can pull through and still be an amazingly loving and caring creature.”

--DJ

Love Song to Sweet Baby Ray

Working and volunteering for animal rescue and welfare organizations, I meet a lot of animals, particularly dogs. Virtually all of them are nice, highly adoptable animals, destined to make some lucky people great canine companions.

But every once in a while there’s a dog that has that “something extra”…at least as far as I’m concerned. Maybe it’s the way they cock their head or a certain look in their eyes or the cute way they place their paw on my hand; whatever the reason, these special canines just strike a special chord in me. I find myself caring deeply about their future. And if circumstances allowed, I’d readily welcome any one of them as permanent members of our “pack.”


Take Sweet Baby Ray, for example. This 5-year-old treeing Walker coonhound is one of 10 hunting dogs rescued from a rural property in Virginia during an investigation into illegal moonshine production and placed into the care of the Washington Animal Rescue League.


Like his canine companions, Baby Ray bears the physical and psychological scars of an unsocialized, neglectful life. The edges of his ears are rough and ragged, he’s missing a couple of teeth, his muzzle and paws are scarred from running through brush. He’s timid and uncertain about the world around him; ascending and descending a flight of stairs yesterday took a fair bit of gentle but enthusiastic encouragement…probably because he’d never seen stairs before. He doesn’t understand toys; no surprise since he’s probably never had one before.

But in my eyes, Baby Ray is beautiful.


Those big, brindled, raggedy ears are soft as velvet, and as I stroke them, he tilts his head back and turns his big brown eyes—eyes that can look surprised, interested, or soulful—upward in an expression of quiet ecstasy. A scratch along his back elicits a similar pose as he stands completely still…as if afraid to break the spell of pleasure. And when I sit or lie on the floor and encourage him, he curls his long-legged body like a corkscrew, head downward, until he rolls onto his side for a tummy rub and places a scarred paw gently on my arm.


Like I said, beautiful, both inside and out.



I’m not quite sure why Sweet Baby Ray has not yet been adopted. All that means, however, is that you still have a chance to make this special boy your very own canine companion. Come meet him at the Washington Animal Rescue League.

Update: Sweet Baby Ray was adopted on 1/20/12!

Happy Howl-o-ween!

Okay, let’s be honest. Although many dogs tolerate it and a small handful appear to even enjoy it, the overwhelming majority of dogs don’t particularly like the whole Halloween dress up thing.

Their people on the other hand seem the get quite a kick out of seeing their canine companions don costumes…even if only for as long as it takes to snap a photo to share with friends and family. And I’m certainly no exception.

Over the years, I’ve subjected my dogs to a wide variety of costumes, from cows and bumble bees to jesters and spiders to hard-hatted “workdogs” and even Snow White.

This year, however, members of my personal pack got a reprieve as I focused on some of the adorable adoptable dogs at the Washington Animal Rescue League. It seemed a logical way of promoting today’s special “Howl-o-ween” adoption event.

The dogs below may not have been as excited about the experience as I was, but if a few minutes of embarrassment helps them find their forever homes, I suspect they’ll forgive me.

Celebrating Fall with Fundraisers for Animals

Autumn is a time of pumpkins, cider, falling leaves...and dog-related events. At least that seems to be the case for those of us involved in animal welfare causes. For me, three such events occurred during successive weekends. The first was a Puptoberfest celebration organized by Eleventh Hour Rescue in Rockaway, NJ; the second, a the 25th anniversary party of the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County (PGSPCA) in Clinton, MD; and the third, a Bark and Bowl fundraiser in Bethesda, MD, for the National Canine Cancer Foundation.

My involvement at each event was different. I sold and signed copies of my books Black is Beautiful: A Celebration of Dark Dogs and A is for Angel: A Dog Lover's Guide to the Alphabet at Puptoberfest, with profits going to Eleventh Hour Rescue, an organization that has found homes for some 5000 animals since 2004. Photos of these animals were displayed on an eight-sided (four sides, inside and out) covered wall at the event.

It was my first time at Puptoberfest, which has grown over several years from an event that began with fewer than 100 participants to one that regularly draws more than 1000. With vendors, activities, food, adoptable animals, and a fantabulous band, it should serve as a model for other organizations, like the PGSPCA.

While the recent PGSPCA celebration was held specifically to commemorate 25 years of caring and working for animals in Prince George's County, MD, I'm hoping it will lay the groundwork for yearly celebrations for our volunteers, adopters of our foster animals, and other area animal lovers.

Those of us on the planning committee had a good plan, complete with food, games and contests for humans and their canine companions, prizes, raffle baskets, and advance promotion. What we didn't have was good weather...a critical element for a primarily outdoor event. Rain kept most people at home, and those of us who braved the elements were confined to a park shelter. Still, my fellow humans and I enjoyed food, drink, and good conversation, while the canine participants explored the agility tunnel and played some scent-oriented games.

The most recent animal-related event in which I was involved--the Bark and Bowl--was completely different from the other two. As the name suggests, it centered on bowling. The goal: to raise money for the National Canine Cancer Foundation to fund grants on research on the prevention and cure of canine cancers. Teams comprised of business colleagues, members of non-profit organizations, or just groups of friends collected dononations from sponsors ahead of time and then tested their skills on the lanes of Bowlmor Lanes in Bethesda. Money from raffle tickets and the sale of food, drinks, and NCCF merchandise also supported the fundraising efforts.

I can't speak for the majority of participants, but my team mates and I had a blast...despite some less-than-stellar bowling scores. Actually, my husband, Mark, although he prefers duck pin, held his own admirably. But even his three strikes in a row couldn't offset my series of gutter balls. Oh, well...I drowned my sorrows with a "fizzy French bulldog" and called it a day, happy to have been part of such a worthwhile fundraiser.

Now? Now, I'm taking a break from the "event" circuit and enjoying weekends at home with those I love. Oh, and cleaning walls and baseboards in preparation for the painters' arrival next week.

From Bait Dog to Source of Inspiration

Because of my involvement with various shelters and animal welfare organizations, I have the opportunity to meet and interact with a lot of dogs. All of them are special in one way or another. And all of them have stories to tell.

Asha is no exception. Until just a few short weeks ago, this little girl was chained to the wall in a windowless basement and used as bait dog. For those of you fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with the term, bait dogs are used as the canine equivalent of sparring partners for dogs being trained to fight.

Unlike human sparring partners, however, these dogs usually don’t fight back…think slabs of meat punched by Sylvester Stallone in the movie “Rocky.” Chosen for their sweet, submissive nature, bait dogs just get bitten, and bitten, and bitten. Then they die, either quickly from their wounds or slowly from starvation. Since they’re of no monetary value to dog fighters, they’re not worth purchasing food for.

It seems strange to say this, but Asha is one of the lucky ones. Thanks to an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen, she was discovered in time…just. Covered with bite wounds—some infested with maggots—she required emergency surgery involving more than 100 stitches at the Baltimore Animal Rescue and Care Shelter (BARCS) before she could even be transported to Towson Veterinary Hospital for longer-term care. Her rescuers didn’t know if she’d survive the night.

But she did. And on the day that I met her, less than three weeks after her liberation from hell, Asha demonstrated an amazingly resilient spirit and zest for life. She adores my friend Jen, who made Asha’s survival her mission. She adores the veterinarians and staff at the hospital. She adores French fries. She adores the toys and “blankeys” generous donors have sent her. She even seemed to adore me.

And the feeling was mutual! This brave dog—estimated to be only 18 months old—is an inspiration…an example of how all of us, whether human or canine, can overcome the bad hands dealt to us, put the past behind us, and get on with living life to the fullest. You go, girl!

Note: Because of her many bite wounds and unknown rabies vaccine status, Asha will have to remain in veterinary boarding for more than 5 more months. Anyone wishing to make a donation can do so via her Chip-in fund or by calling the veterinary hospital at 410-825-8880. If you would like to mail a donation, send it to 716 N. York Road, Towson, MD 21204; and write “Asha/BBC” in the memo section.