A couple of days ago I was with my brother and his wife in Sulmona (where the social security and land registry offices are displaced for the residents of L’Aquila). They were leaving the following day for Milan, to use the U2 concert tickets that were recovered from their abandoned house, so Jane was in the transporter to be left at a dogs' boarding place. While my brother was away at the offices, my sister in law and me took Jane out to stretch its legs in the villa of Sulmona. Then my sister in law needed to go to a toilet (toilets are an ever-present problem for the displaced, as for the tourists), so we found a modern, clean-looking cafe, order something, then she asked for a toilet and went inside.
I was holding Jane's lease outside the bar, when suddenly some noise or other event frightened the dog, and she started pulling the lease. I told her to be quiet, but of course the thought of obeying me did not even slightly touch her doggy brain. And though she is not such a big dog, she was able to tear the lease and ran away. I ran after her along the pavement, but she was actually too fast for me, her genes told her somehow there might be a fox the other side of the street... so she decided to jump into the street (the corso in Sulmona) and kept running after the cars, and me after her. I gave a look at the bar door, hoping my sister in law was coming out... no way. In my mind a vision formed with ourselves, distressed, displaced citizens of L'Aquila, spending the whole day in Sulmona in the heat asking anyone we met about the dog, my sister in law crying her eyes out, or of finding Jane run over during one of her crazy runs across the street, or other depressing scenarios. Enough. I could not allow the small bitch to do this to us. After all I beat the earthquake.
My jogging sessions around the castle of L'Aquila in the early morning of 25 years ago, and as many kgs ago, and three pregnancies ago, for a moment seemed yesterday, my cellulitis turns into muscle tissue, I surprise myself sprinting for a dozen metres, I get near Jane, launch myself as a rugby player of my beloved city would do to take hold of her, grab her collar and throw her to the ground. In the middle of the street. The cars stopped, immediately I found myself surrounded by people trying to help, two men kept Jane, almost dying of fear, a lady tries to console the little bitch, another man helps me to stand up ("You are Aquilans, aren't you"), the lady then goes to fetch a rope from a hardware shop for Jane's collar. I realized that blood was dripping from my fingers over Jane – I had bruised my hand on the street - and I was in the middle of the traffic, very low luckily at that time of the morning.
I would never have risked before the earthquake for a pet. I did not do it years ago for my cat that ran away when we were at the vet's shop. But this is a post-earthquake era, we can do anything.