Page 39 of Sicilian Sunset

“What about you? Do you have a place in Catania?” I ask as we stroll side by side along the boardwalk by the waterfront. Warm diffused lights are set into the planks, guiding our way. But even if they weren’t there, we’d have no trouble seeing. There’s not a single cloud in the sky. The moon and the stars are shining brightly, giving everything a romantic glow.

The night air is refreshingly cool. After the scorching heat of the day, it’s a welcomed change.

“No, I prefer the peace of the countryside. I don’t mind the time it takes to drive to work. I have a workstation set up in the back of the car. It gives me a chance to answer emails and make phone calls before I get bombarded with issues at the office.”

“Yes, that would be time well spent,” I agree. “Lucky for me, I only have a short commute to work on the bus and I spend that time listening to podcasts and audiobooks.”

“You don’t drive?” Tiero asks, surprised.

“I do, but I prefer the bus. There’s usually too much traffic around to make it enjoyable. It also gives me time to unwind after work.”

“What do you do? I don’t think I’ve asked you yet.”

“I train guide dogs for blind people.” I say happily.

Curiosity lights up his face. It’s not your typical profession, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.

I love dogs. Growing up, we had two beagles, Sammy and Max. They were so clever, and I got such a kick out of teaching them new tricks.

I wish I could have my own dog these days, but living in an apartment makes that impossible. Down the road, though, when I own a house with a bit of land around it, I plan to have at least two or three.

“Do you like it?” Tiero interrupts my pondering.

“I absolutely love it.” I beam at him. “To be part of changing someone’s life for the better is so special. Most days are just wonderful. The dogs are so full of joy and keen to serve. You just can’t be sad around them. And the people we help are so grateful for the assistance and companionship the dogs offer. It’s so fulfilling to give people a level of independence they didn’t have before. I really have the best job.”

I sometimes pinch myself, so happy I can combine my love of dogs with helping people in a meaningful way. But there’s another reason why it means so much to me.

“My job was a godsend when I lost my parents. Their death hit me hard, and the dogs brought me glimpses of joy every day. It would have been a very bleak existence otherwise.

“That and Rhia helped me through my grief,” I say, feeling grateful for the life I’ve built for myself back home.

“You and Rhia are close, yes?” Tiero asks.

The question makes me smile. “She’s like a sister. We couldn’t be closer if we tried.”

We come across a park bench and Tiero gestures at it. We sit down, and I make sure there’s a respectable distance between us.

“Tell me. Why did you become a guide dog trainer? I assume you love dogs?”

A smile lights up my face—it’s one of my favorite subjects.

“When I was little, I loved teaching my dogs tricks, and it’s something I wanted to continue when I grew up. But this would have been a child’s pipedream if it hadn’t been for Herr Schm… oops, I mean Mr. Schmitten. He was a friend of my Opa’s, my grandfather’s. They both worked as mechanics for Niki Lauda’s Formula One team back in the seventies. My Opa is the reason my mum and I always had a love for Formula One. It sort of runs in the family.

“Anyway, one day, there was an accident, some chemical spillage of some sort, and it got into Mr. Schmitten’s eyes. His sight was severely impaired, and he had to give up work. He was given a guide dog, which helped him tremendously.

“Opa and I visited him often, and I watched when Mr. Schmitten was paired up with his dog, Silvester, and the training they both did. I knew then, it’s what I wanted to do.”

“That’s inspiring. Which Formula One team did your grandfather work for?”

“Ferrari, of course. Could there be a better team?”

Tiero’s eyes light up. “Never.”

“Have you been to a Formula One race?”

“No, I haven’t,” he replies, amused.

“Oh my God, you need to go,” I exclaim. “You really have no excuse. Monza isn’t that far from Sicily. The Italian Grand Prix is in a few weeks. You have to experience it, and immerse yourself in the deafening roar of all these powerful engines. My ma and I used to go to at least one race a year. These days, Rhia and I continue the tradition,” I tell him excitedly.

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