The Dogs of Naples
Life in Naples has many pleasures: the architecture, the sea, the tomatoes, the castles, the ubiquity of the coffee shops. There are also many challenges. Many adjustments.
Case in point: The streets of Naples are paved with poop. And when I say paved with poop, I mean that you can’t walk down the sidewalk without paying close attention to the ground in front of you or you will face some nasty consequences. Eyes front at all times, or you’ll step in a fresh pile of dog doodoo, or in older, but still potent, clumps of dried poop tracked across the sidewalk.
The fresh poop, a neat little mound of steamy brown turds, ironically, is easiest to avoid. It announces itself. It has topography. It’s carried on the breeze.
The dried poop is more of a mystery. It’s like someone has dreamily taken a butter knife and spread a thin layer of Nutella over a piece of bread and left it out to crust over. Dried poop tracked all over the sidewalk is evidence that previous pedestrians walked through a poo and kept on going. They didn’t care. They just swept through the poo like it was nothing, leaving the rest of us to play poop hopscotch and hope we win.
I’ve learned that the best way to cope with this, um, social phenomenon is to accept it, so with apologies to the estate of Frank Sinatra, please enjoy this ode to the dogs of Naples:
I've got poo under my shoe
I've got poo, deep in the sole of me
You’re so deep in my sole, you’re really a part of me
I've got poo under my shoe
I'd tried so, not to give in
I’ve said to myself this walk never will go so well
But I have to try to resist when sadly I know so well
I've got poo under my shoe
I'd sacrifice anything, come what might
For the sake of not stepping in sh*t
But in spite of the warning signs and my best tries
I can’t help standing in it
You’ll soon know that you’ve stepped
In an unfortunate mess
It’s the mentality
Adjust to reality
But each time that I do just the thought of poo
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got poo under my shoe
I'd sacrifice anything, come what might
For the sake of not stepping in sh*t
But in spite of the warning signs and my best tries
I can’t help standing in it
You’ll soon know that you’ve stepped
In an unfortunate mess
It’s the mentality
Adjust to reality
But each time that I do just the thought of poo
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got poo under my shoe