R O I S
TRAVEL MAPS
Take a photo, tell about the photo.You who will read what you read, but where is it?
Unpretentious, ready to read
and go, without navigator, just a pinch of adventure,and a splash of probable unexpected.This is traveling. One click, a Moleskine, and a map.
WRITE WHILE TRAVELING
Writing, imprinting on an moleskine an event, a sensation, a place.
I composed a diary for every trip,where I wrote down what I saw through writing.I have told the places with our eyes. I have written about particular places where you should go at least once.Of course they are only fragments of life, crumbs that can enrich a trip even just by reading.
TRAVEL IMAGES
.. that's right, it's a journey
made of images of our do you travel around for the world.The photo, for those who observe it for the first time,can give rise to curiosity, amazement, and much more.
For us who publish them are our memory,that memory that over the yearsit can fade it can blur.
Images are salvation,love of discovery.click on the camera
will take you to the photogallery.
28 legs in search of love
We were still engaged, and we decided to take a puppy
of dog. It was 1978. We went to the refuge of our city, where we knew it was home to many abandoned dogs. When all the balls arrived they ran between our legs, the choice was very difficult.
He fell on a black and white furry curled up in a corner.
At that point we wanted to share our happiness, and we immediately took it to some friends who had a shop. As soon as they entered, all the customers ran away from the stench emanating from the puppy.
We baptized him Birillo because he rhymed with tranquility: for a few days he slept continuously, but as soon as he regained his strength "the tranquility" became a demon full of energy and vitality.
One evening Roberto took him out, Birillo wriggled so much that he slipped, like a drugged eel, from the powerful arms of his new friend.
He began to run, he looked like a ball of wool carded badly.
He broke under the parked cars, crossed the street dribbling the cars in transit, twenty minutes of panic, and finally managed to stop him.
The vet did the tests and the answer was that the girl had probably inhaled or ate poison.
Roberto did not understand how it could have happened.
With the treatments we managed to save him, but that bad adventure greatly affected his character, leaving him with sporadic episodes of epileptic seizures that fortunately disappeared over time and he grew up, healthy and strong.
He was part of our family for twenty years.
Some episodes have remained in our memories and in those of our friends.
We spent many holidays in Livigno, manure was the ideal condition for Birillo, he rolled and then ran. Before returning home he had to wash it in the fountain under the chalet, we used a liquid soap called "FA", the soapy Skittle looked like the dog of Hulk. The coat, once washed and brushed, was fluffy and soft. It lay on any surface especially on clothing, in fact we abolished dark colors.
Our cuckoo clock also paid the price, which day after day, due to its floating hair, blocked its delicate mechanism, sending it to the watchmaker.
He liked to go by motorbike: one afternoon, always in Livigno, a friend of ours saw him on the balcony, we were in the village, he climbed up to the balustrade, he loaded it into his backpack and to finish
she sat him in the saddle, his paws embracing her husband's life.
As the years passed, we understood that Birillo was getting old: he no longer wanted to run on the pier and then jump into the water to retrieve the wood and then regain the shore and shake himself up, raising the general anger of the swimmers.
He no longer had the strength to search, the stone just thrown under the water to let him find it. Gradually he lost his hearing and sight.
He had to approach people to identify their identity.
The stairs were now a distant memory and taking the elevator, unfortunately, at times, it happened to leave some puddle, which I immediately removed. The condominiums kept shooting us continuously, of course only those people who had never had an animal.
Until the autumn we took him to the vet because we understood that it had worsened: in fact he diagnosed a metastasis.
In the meantime, we moved from an apartment in the center of Milan without greenery, to a house with a garden and an immense area for running.
But he was unable to take advantage of this opportunity, the much desired lawn available never saw him.
We took him back to check and at that point, despite himself, suggested by the vet, we made that horrible decision.
It was terrible.
A four-legged friend like Birillo is not forgotten.
Now, between tears, I can only tell you about his memorable endeavors that will always be part of our life.
His vitality, his sympathy and his exuberance remains today in the memory of the people who have known him.
Susan and Rolf
When Birillo left, given the immense space available we decided to go again to the old refuge.
In the meantime, the precarious hospitalization became a beautiful site, where the guests were decently hospitalized in covered and clean boxes. We found very helpful volunteers.
Again, the choice was vast, and it was difficult to make a decision.
I insisted that there could be two dogs in all that space,
in fact we brought home a boy and a girl.
She is a mestizo, Susan, robust spinone type, he is a Schnauzergigante, Rolf.
Susan had abandoned her by tying her to the pole outside the kennel instead Rolf had left him as a puppy wrapped in a short next to their door. Both lived in the same cage, so they were close together.
So we started living with two large dogs, it wasn't Lillo who could have been
fear anywhere because of medium size, these were more cumbersome so the exits with them thinned out.
We got home, as soon as the gate closed, we tied the leash to make the first approaches
Rolf, the more imposing of the two, to a basket; instead Susan let her go.
We parked the car in the garage, turned around and saw both dogs come towards us.
That was one of the first disasters of the terrible Susan.
In fact, she could not bear to be tied or to see her partner tied, so on that occasion she gnawed the very hard leather of the leash, frayed it and broke it freeing her Rolf.
As time passed, Susan proved to be spiteful and stubborn.
I challenge anyone to identify the culprit of the holes made in the garden, Susan was very clever when she did them: she went to wash herself in the tub, thus erasing all traces of earth both on the legs and on the muzzle which was always well cleaned, and then the fault automatically fell on Rolf, the poor fool, he went to crouch in the hole, and therefore it was all dirty. With this conviction we went on for a long time, until one day we managed to catch it on the fact.
Poor my little dog Rolf, he was calm balanced, he was a young old man.
The water tank was perpetually empty, Susan bathed even in winter.
Let's say they were lucky, they had a place where they could run around where meals were plentiful, where care and pampering were never lacking. Certainly Birillo we had experienced him as one of the family the loss was very painful, when instead you have in the courtyard the sharing of everyday life is hardly felt, but still better than nothing.
The mutual trust was cemented day after day. The moment of the holidays arrived.
We took them to a five-legged hotel, an old renovated manor house with endless lawns.
The kennels were very high and wide. Who knows what they thought.
Our holidays were made of tent and sleeping bag, it was unthinkable to bring them with us.
Then Rolf left us too, and he left as he was, without disturbing anyone.
We found him in his beloved wooden kennel with Susan watching over him.
After this other wound in our hearts, we immediately filled Susan's solitude.
We showed up at the gate of the "Dog League" where the owner knowing Susan's character made a brief profile of the future companion. On Saturday morning, we took her to the kennel, and in the garden of agility, we left her free to choose between four male dogs , and after a sniff and a jog he chose the best of the refuge. Beautiful.
Nice alias Rex a magnificent specimen of alpha German Shepherd, 3 years old, robust, alert, quick with a chocolate coat with hazelnut and sand streaks and a scar between his eyes that gave him character.
Among them the harmony was immediate. One day I called him Rex, because of the similarity, and he arrived immediately.
It was Rex forever. If Susan did not arrive he went to call her and vice versa, one controlled the other, apt affinity.
For our part, comparing it with previous experiences, this was a little more demanding.
Rex, in the early days, was not easily caressed, it was always Susan who brought him closer to us. We couldn't even touch his tail, not to mention the bathroom. My husband, a robust man, brought him to make him toilet: not even for a dream, he didn't want to get his hands on anyone, so he took it back and we washed it with great effort.
It was the succession of the days placed side by side that made us establish what was a solid union for many years.
The ball had always been his relief valve, he destroyed them all, of any alloy, he always managed to flatten them like old cans. The problem that once reduced like this with his zampona shook them, but of course they didn't roll anymore and then disappointed , abandoned them on the lawn.
Susan was getting old and the baths in the tub no longer did.
On a muggy July morning, just before our vacation, he left us.
He was fifteen. Ten passed with us away from bad things, with abundant meals and pampering and with two splendid companions: Rolf and Rex.
And here we are again in the tunnel of emotional loss, she, as for the others, caused us a sense of injustice.
Our friends cannot always stand by our side, walk with us for life.
So Rex, now gentle and playful, in turn needed a new bride: she could not be left alone, accustomed to a life of two, as the previous time Mrs. Rossi drew up the profile for a new companion. Rex roamed the garden of promises, between a festive dachshund, a fur ball and a magnificent shy rottweiler, he chose, after a fearful lick Sandy followed him.
Sandy a very shy, aristocratic with marem sheepdog
the German profile and the fawn character.
It was love at first sight, where he was there, Sandy instigated Rex to bark and run.
When playing with the ball, it incredibly brought it back unlike Rex.
Hip dysplasia came for him.
We fought it by giving him pills, we learned to make punctures, we fed him with a straw, until one morning we found him lying on his checkered blanket, without breath.
At this point we brought Sandy into the house, we thought, giving him more affection he would not have missed his partner. The loss of his husband became more and more evident: he became apathetic and sad, pampering was no longer enough.
It was 4:20 pm and my husband called me into the office telling me he was taking Sandy to the vet, and he pointed out that he was sick. I arrived in a flash, she was in Roby's arms, looked at me, then closed her eyes forever.
Wow what a shot !!! This was also a truly terrible moment, that even now that I'm writing it, a few tears drop.
The vet didn't understand the reason for his death because he was healthy. He just went away.
Exhausts. We were empty, empty and lost. It didn't take long for the decision to start all over again, despite our age.
The gate reopened again, but with the promise of bringing home only one.
There was nothing in the kennel that suited us. There were many small dogs.
The legendary Mrs. Rossi made a couple of calls and informed us that there was a mestizo made just for us. We went to Alexandria to take Shana. She didn't even have a picture of her, we went on trust.
A girl welcomed us, who in a Palladian villa with a garden, now reduced to a flood of holes, looked after a hundred dogs, all white.
He didn't let us in, he called Shana from the gate and she waggled her tail.
Beautiful, indeed, beautiful, with its fluffy and anthracite-colored hair it was different from the others. Medium size, impalpable coat and two orange eyes, these eyes captured us immediately, and we immediately took her home.
They told us that her story began in distant Puglia where she also had a son named Luca, then she was adopted by a Milanese family, but then for logistical reasons, after a few days they took her back to the kennel, which was full of dogs from the south and they entrusted it to a trustee of the Animal Protection League of Alexandria.
And we started another adventure: we taught her to take the stairs, take the elevator, face the storm and eat without terror in the eyes, in fact in a short time from twelve kilos she reached the right weight of thirty.
In the meantime, Mrs. Rossi asked us if we could adopt one of their dogs remotely. We went for the choice of adoption.
In a cage on the sidelines there was a tall slender dog with a tapered muzzle and two very sad eyes. He didn't bark, he didn't move a muscle. Our choice fell on him, Goku.
For a couple of Saturdays we went to take him for laps, but Mrs. Laura, smart she knew that we would not have resisted the desire to take him away. In fact now she lives with us, he also comes from the same region. A story of abandonments and discoveries on the Apulian railways. It is a slender half-breed, mixed between a rottweiler, a German shepherd and a table leg. In short, the Goku, a soul apart, different from all the others, intelligent, but also full of if and of but.
Our twenty-eight paws in search of love I hope they are well in our family.
Isabella and Roberto
Birillo.
Rolf.
Susan.
Rex.
Sandy.
Shana.
Goku.
OUR CREATIVE HOBBIES
Below is our showcase on the world. We liked being able to share our creations with the web objects, all completely handmade. For each object you will find a description and its use. It is obvious that being unique pieces, they cannot be identical, because precisely created one at a time, with patience and passion.if you have any ideasacome up when you see them, just contact us and your project will be carried out together.
THROW AN OKKIO
.... if you have come up to here, we thank you with this latest gem.Take a look inside this room and you will find little stories from our life.
SARTISA
R O I S
