By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
His left eye is a deep chocolate brown and the right an iridescent blue. They tell a story of loneliness and longing, of a life lived within the walls of this city frozen in time. I first saw those eyes five years earlier on my initial visit to Pompeii. And now, curled up on a marble ledge in one of the old thermal baths, his pink tongue dangling from his mouth, there he is again. He lifts his head ever so slightly as I approach and his piercing two-toned eyes once again meet mine. The years have not been particularly kind to him. His white fur is now muddy and full of mats, and after years of living off scraps from passing visitors his ribs have begun to protrude from his sides. Yet his demeanour remains calm and measured, like an old Tibetan monk who has never known life outside his monastery. Every day he wanders the streets of this once-flourishing city. He passes by the atrium of the House of Orpheus where the mosaic of a guard dog once glistened in the morning sunlight but now sits dusty and faded. He pauses briefly as he reaches the old granary market which now houses the casts of some of Vesuvius' victims, forever frozen in positions of pain and terror. Amongst them, encased in a glass box, is one of his own: a dog. A thick collar adorns its neck as it writhes on its back in a moment of panic and fear, all too aware of the fate it is about to suffer. After a moment of reflection he begins to move on, but is quickly surrounded by a group of cooing tourists. He allows them to stroke his matted fur without protest, as this is simply part of his routine. Every day he is doted on by strangers who will later abandon him as they board the train back to their sea-view hotel rooms. Soon, I too will follow suit. To him, I'm just another passing tourist - a doting American girl with a pink umbrella. But something about his enduring presence here has struck a chord with me. As the rattling train carries me away once more, those haunting eyes forever etched in my memory, here he will remain: the unlikely guardian of these ghostly ruins.