Sam Delaney

"Something to Declare"

Im Majorca it was a dusky senorita called Maria. In France it was a playful blonde called Suzette. And in Tuscany it was a slobbering old codger known simply as “Il Duce”. These were the temptresses who stole my heart in holidays of yore. They lured me in, they made me love them – I even started to believe that they loved me. But I was so naive. To them, I was just another conquest. Those bitches. And let’s be clear here – that’s exactly what most of them were, literally.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for foreign animals. It’s one of the things I look forward to most when I go on holiday. The manky cats that hang around your villa begging for food, the stray dogs who follow you for miles along the beach – I fall for all of them. Yes, it can be heartbreaking, but I just can’t help myself. If having a holiday romance with an animal is wrong, I’m afraid I don’t want to be right. I don’t use the word romance in any saucy sense. But I can’t deny that the relationships I had with Maria (a smoky-grey Spanish moggy with a slight limp), Suzette (a little French Labrador puppy who used to sneak into our garden from the villa next door and beg for sausages), or Il Duce (a half-dead Italian mongrel who dozed under the shade in our driveway and kept us awake all night with his barking) were like platonic love affairs.

Why am I so vulnerable to their exotic charms? Maybe it’s the mystery of the unknown. Or just the sun going to my head. Certainly, if a stinking three-legged terrier with flies buzzing around its head started hanging around in my front garden back home I’d probably call the council. But if the same thing happens in some balmy Mediterranean paradise, I’ll invite it in for a bowl of water and some biscuits. That’s how it starts. It feels like having a pet of your own but without any of the associated responsibilities. But while it might seem like you’re having all the fun without any of the vet’s fees, it’s never as simple as that. Once you go home, your once faithful friend simply moves on to the next gullible tourist. And all you’re left with is a couple of faded photographs and a heart full of broken dreams.