What do Italians love more than pizza, pasta and coffee? The answer, for anyone who’s done a stint in Italy, will roll off the tongue: dogs and babies. Whilst the Italian stallion admittedly enjoys a good life, he’d surely opt to be an Italian dog/baby in the next life. Who wouldn’t? It’s a one way ticket to VIP status. The amount of attention they receive is remarkable and at the same time quite understandable. For someone who’s always thought babies resemble aliens (head too large, gurgling noises etc.) and shown utter ambivalence to man’s best friend, I’ve been amazed to find myself cooing in tandem with the Italians.
At first this unexpected reaction of mine, left me wondering whether I was reaching the maternal stage of my life (I won’t say ‘clucky’ due to chicken-brain connotations). The prospect of the dissolution of Numero Uno (me) left me pondering over the alluring power of Italian babies and dogs. What did they have that did it for me in a way that their English counterparts hadn’t? And then it hit me. Italian babies and dogs know how to mind their Ps &Qs. No wailing, mucky faces (worse-bottoms); none of that baby/dog smell that has you grasping at nappies/pooper skoopers; no drool smears (on you and them). Forget any thoughts of superiority on our part, these bambini and cani, with their royal manners, deserve nothing less than royal treatment. And red carpet treatment they get; allowed into any venue: restaurants, delis, cafes, hairdressers – you name it they’re ushered in. Bystanders ooooh and ahhhh whilst lunging forward to touch the deity (even better, stroke). No Italian ‘strut’ has a hope when a baby/dog’s in the vicinity; they’re simply troppo bellino (too ‘itsy bitsy cute’) damn it.
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