The (C)Ave Canem Project is dedicated to taking care of the dogs and adopting out as many as possible. Who knows where all these strays come from – maybe they mate, maybe people dump dogs there, maybe dogs just find their way there because it’s a city-sized park without cars where lots of people roam around. The dogs all look different, and while there aren’t any especially small or large ones, they do not look related.
Pompeii, which was buried under volcanic ash in 79 AD, boasts the famous floor mosaic of the cave canem sign. Cave canem is Latin for “beware of the dog.” This sign is in my bathroom, and not just because my dog drinks out of toilet. It’s there because it matches the black and white tile décor.
Then again, in Italy I made enough linguistic mistakes – some of them more than a tad embarrassing – that it’s sort of possible it means something else.
Whatever the name means, the Project was developed by cooperating national organizations in Italy. They provide any necessary veterinary care, and vaccinate and alter them before adoption. As stated in their brochure,
“These are the main actions of (C)Ave Canem in order to create the conditions for a positive relationship between dogs and people….According to Pompeii ancient tradition, (C)Ave Canem works for educating visitors to respect animals while waiting for their adoption.”
A main reason for this Project is the safety of the 10,000 tourists who visit Pompeii almost every day. Healthy, appropriately-fed strays are less likely to bite tourists than starving, ill, frightened dogs. But nonetheless it’s a true love of dogs that created this effort.
Strays were running lo
Forget Spot and Blackie. The dogs are given Latin names based on the archaeological areas of Pompeii and home owners. Europa, Diomede, and Vesonius need homes, whereas Quartia, Mamia, and Iuppiter have been adopted.
One of the dogs looked sick. I saw him soon after we arrived, and I checked on this German shepherd when we were leaving and he hadn’t moved. There was no representative from the project, no one to talk to about him, not even a donation box (the lack of which is unimaginable in the United States). Our Internet connection at the villa was down, and there were no Internet cafes where we were staying, so I couldn’t even email them about him.
Many of the dogs have been adopted, and are now stretched out in their new homes instead of the ruined city filled with tourists nattering in multiple languages. The universal language of love for dogs is clearly spoken here, and the yet-to-be-adopted dogs are cared for.
In Italian, adopted is adottato, which sounds wonderfully close to adored; to a dog, being adopted is being adored.
The day I arrived in Venice for my “Christmas in Italy” vacation, a couple of inches of snow had turned the stunning city of canals into narrow cobblestone paths of slush, perfect for slipping and falling. The Adriatic seafront wind was bitter, and the cold damp got in your bones. In Venice they deal with snow by throwing salt on it and waiting for it to melt. Apparently they are not familiar with the concept of shoveling.
Most notably, almost every dog I saw in Venice was wearing a coat to ward off chill; only one or two didn’t have one. Dog coats were nearly ubiquitous amongst the canine population. It wasn’t just little dogs wearing coats — even big dogs wore them, including golden retrievers. I didn’t see any dog wearing booties.
As a Wisconsinite, I find the idea of hard-core winter clothing for a temperature that rarely gets below freezing to be hilarious (32°F is the typical low for December in Venice), but there is definitely a wind chill factor. That Adriatic wind chills to the bone, so it’s no wonder that most people put coats on their dogs.