The house we chose to live in near Florence was not really what we wanted – not our style, not really in our first choice location and much too big for us. But we took it because it had a huge walled in garden and an even bigger fenced in wooded area in the back where our seven little dogs could run and play without worry. The previous residents told us that the neighbors were quiet and that we shouldn't expect any problems at all from them. That wasn't exactly how things played out. Right from the start, the neighbors were unfriendly, suspicious. We told ourselves it was just “that closed Tuscan character” and that eventually they would warm up. That didn't happen. They refused to return our greetings when we met outside, nor would they even talk to us. No problem - their loss.
Neither of really lost sleep any over their less than friendly behavior, but after a while I began to wonder about it. We are quiet, reserved people. No loud music, no parties, no gangs of rowdy kids on souped up motorbikes. I'd say we're generally pretty boring. The dogs did as dogs are wont to do – they reflected the family atmosphere. There weren't yappy, didn't bark at every bug that flew by, hardly made a noise. Wondered why the neighbors were so unfriendly I asked a local friend. She diplomatically offered the idea that perhaps these people weren't, uhhmmm, comfortable with the fact that two men had moved into the house next door and that the two men lived together as a unit – a family unit. This hadn't occured to me. Why would a couple of over-the-hill fuddy duddies bother them? (Premise, my partner, Antonio, and I are about to celebrate our 32nd anniversary. We really are that quiet!) In any case, I decided to roll a stone over the whole thing – I could live with them and they'd just have to put up with us. Life went on – usually peacefully, sometimes not. On several occasions, the neighbor, a retired barber, accosted us verbally complaining about anything from the pine needles from our tree that fell on his path to the way I parked my car. Once or twice he harrassed and threatened Antonio's 85 year old mother. Occasionally we received phone calls from him – incoherent raging. We weren't happy but we were determined to not take him seriously.
Until the winter of 2010. Just around Christmas time, our little miniature dachshund, Tita, became wobbly. From one day to the next, she had trouble standing. By that evening, she wouldn't get up and seemed to be in pain. We planned to get her to the vet first thing in the morning. At about 5:00 the next day she woke me up crying. I took her into my arms – she immediately began convulsing and vomiting blood and what appeared to be parts of her organs. Within a minute, she was dead.
We were devastated. Tita was the ruler of the roost – the smallest of all our dogs, she made all the decisions. Sweet and feisty, she looked over all of us. Though she was 12 years old, she was in perfect health, and now she was dead – and what a horrible death. The farthest thing from our minds was that someone could have wished her harm. We had her cremated and put her next to all our many departed friends.
Ten days later, Antonio happened to go out into the wooded area behind the house where he found the neighbor offering another of our dachshunds something. Antonio immediately called the dog to him – he was met with a hostile glare from the neighbor but no words were exchanged. Early the next morning Antonio found Gegè dragging himself on the floor, unable to lift himself up. He was in horrible pain. Antonio called me to come running – I made it in time for Gegè to look at me, wag his tail, vomit and die.
This time, suspicions rose to the surface. It was too much a coincidence – both dogs in perfect health, dead within hours. We took Gegè to our vet who advised us as to the procedure for establishing whether or not he had been poisoned. First thing to do was to take his body to the Provincial Istituto Zooprofilattico where an autopsy would be performed. While we were driving there, the vet faxed his report over to them so that they would be officially informed. There, we were told that they could give us a preliminary analysis within the day but that the histological samples would be sent to Rome for analysis. Final results could take up to two months. They put us in contact with the special unit of the Polizia Provinciale that deals specifically with animal abuse.
That afternoon I received a call from the Istituto. They asked me what the dog had eaten the day before. I told him he'd eaten his usual diet of dog kibble along with a few treats here and there – a piece of cheese, a piece of fruit. They asked if we'd fed him fried eggplant. Absolutely not. I was informed that in his stomach contents were found large pieces of fried eggplant and that this is widespread poison delivery method among hunters and other persons whose intention is to kill. The reason for its popularity is that the eggplant acts as a sponge, with the ability to absorb huge amounts of poison – much more than a morsel of meat or even a meatball that absorbs almost nothing and can only carry as much poison as clings to its surface. The eggplant pieces are soaked in poison then fried – making it appetizing to the animal. I was told by the doctor from the Istituto Zooprofilattico that the eggplant found in Gegè's stomach contained elements of various poison chemicals whose identities would be better identified when the lab results were returned from Rome. In the meantime, they helped me set up a meeting with officers from the Polizia Provincial animal abuse section, who contacted me after a few days. I set up a time for them to come to the house where they took our depositions, toured the property and photographed the area confining with the neighbor giving special attention to the spot where Antonio had found the neighbor offering something to the dog. Before leaving, they told me to call them as soon as I had the final histological results from Rome. Rome took its time getting back to us, but when they did the picture they painted was not pretty. Gegè had indeed been given morsals of fried eggplant that had been impregnated with an enormous amount of rat poison – specifically, zinc phosphide. When I asked if it could be possible that my dogs simply picked up bait that had been set for rats or other so-called vermin, the answer was shocking: the levels of toxin in Gege's tissue samples were so high, he would have had to eat a mountain of mice killed using this poison.
At this point, we had another meeting with the Polizia Provinciale. They agreed that our neighbor was a prime suspect, given his past aggression and the fact that he had been seen offering food to the dog that died. However, at this point they confirmed a doubt that had been growing in my mind: if he had hated our dogs for whatever reason, he would have set out on a massive campaign to get rid of them all at once, without playing around. The fact that he seduced first Tita, then Gegè with a lethal morsel pointed to a different motive. Perhaps he had it out for us, and was sending us a message. I had proposed this idea to another one of our neighbors, a kind and generous woman who is active in the rescue of abused animals. Having grown up in the neighborhood, she agreed that the prevelant mentality among the people was not accepting of two men living together as a family. In fact, she had heard grumbling in the neighborhood about us. We concluded, with the consensus of the police and our friend, that the man who killed our dogs hadn't intended to harm the dogs as much as he desired to harm us and, hopefully drive us away.
It is a crime in Italy to abuse animals. The offense of deliberately killing a domestic animal (let's not go into the subject of hunting, at least not here) is punishable. But the punishment is in no way in proportion to the crime. At worst, it involves a fine of anywhere to to about €5000. A person crazy enough to commit such a crime is hardly concerned with a little money. We wanted more than anything to bring this disgusting bigot to justice, but our primary concern was to protect our other dogs. After much soul searching deliberation we decided not to press charges. After a few months, we moved away from that place. Was our move a concession to this man's hate, did he win in the end? No, we won because he will still have to live his miserable miopic life in squalor... and the rest of our family is safe.
Why do people intentionally set poison bait? The sport (sic) of hunting is deeply ingrained in Italian culture, both rural and urban. Italian men in some way feel they must hunt – a confirmation of their masculinity?, of a connection to their ancient roots as providers? Go figure – deriving pleasure of any kind by inflicting pain and death on another living being is, to me, beyond the pale. But without going into philosphy, the reality is that hunters are also a jealous, envious and territorial lot. They will willingly place poisoned bait with the specific intent of killing other hunters' dogs. Truffle hunters will do the same, the idea being that by killing their competitors' dogs they are defending their own turf. And then there is the particularly sick category of people who set out poisoned morsels for the sheer fun and sport, or in the case of our ex-neighbor, as a way to communicate fear and loathing. Here's a statistic to make you wonder: intentinal poisoning of domestic animals is a prevelant nationwide pastime in Italy, and the Province of Florence is at the top of the heap with a wopping 480 individual poisonings reported last year. I stress reported – only a minimum of cases are ever reported.
If you have dogs or cats, be aware and vigilant. Resist the urge to let them roam free, even if it's in an area you think is secure. No area is secure. We thought our home and garden were safe.
