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Tiberius in the Circus Maximus
November 29, 2009
We moved back to the U.S. from Rome, Italy, in late 2000, never expecting to make the journey back to Europe except as tourists. So we moved into a neighborhood called Fox Run in Colorado Springs, and settled in.
Born on Valentine’s Day 2001 was the newest addition to the Grier family, a puppy. In April in the middle of a raging blizzard we brought home our new Golden Retriever, Tiberius, Emperor of Fox Run. We had lived on the Aventine Hill near the Tiber river, and it only made sense that we would name our dog Tiberius, or Tiber for short.
Tiber was a special dog from the beginning, and to this day he still reigns supreme in our household.
It came to pass in January of 2005 that we made the trip to Italy to live once again on the Aventine Hill in Rome’s center. Near the Tevere (the Italian expression for the Tiber River) and the Circus Maximus, within walking distance of the Coloseo and the Roman Forum, there was no better location in the city than the Aventine. The Rome downtown is only six miles across, so literally everything is in walking distance or just a quick bus ride away.
Tiberius had come home. (He just did not know it!)
A dedicated walker, my wife took the dog to the Circus Maximus nearly every day as part of her trek through Rome. Circus Maximus had become the center for jogging and walking and bike riding and dog running for the locals. The huge arena was overlooked by the Palatine, home to the true Emperors, who with the masses would witness the likes of Ben Hur racing his chariot and lions eating their victims.
Armed with a tennis ball, my wife would throw it as she walked the Circus, and Tiberius, the ultimate retriever, would chase it down and bring it back, dropping it at her feet. If she dared to ignore the ball, Tiber would pick it up again and toss it with his head in her direction. There was just no ignoring the amazing Emperor Tiberius.
In the Circus the last Spring we lived there, a young man afflicted with what appeared to be brain damage appeared. Present nearly every day, he lived in his own world oblivious to his surroundings, dancing constantly, shaking his legs and keeping his arms in perpetual motion. He wore no headphones -- the music played only in his head. Seemingly unmindful of everything, there was no penetrating the invisible wall that encircled him.
One day as she and Tiber walked the Circus yet again, my wife threw the tennis ball close to the young man. Tiber retrieved the ball, but instead of returning to my wife for another throw, he chose to approach the manic dancer.
Racing up to the man and tossing the ball with his head, the yellow orb dropped onto the man’s foot. No response.
Tiber picked up the ball and tossed it once more at the young man’s feet. No response.
This went on over and over and over. From Tiber’s perspective it was a logical sequence. Toss. Wait. Retrieve. Toss. Wait. Retrieve. Over and over.
My wife watched with fascination when the young man, finally overcome by Tiber’s stubborn persistence, stopped his dance and considered the situation. He bent and slowly reached for the ball. Standing upright, he put his right foot back, and stepping with his left foot, fired the ball across the Circus.
Tiberius caught the ball in the air as it bounded across the hard ground, and he returned to the young man who by this time had resumed his dancing. Tiber tossed the ball at his feet, and the young man stopped his routine, picked up the ball, and hurled it again.
This time he waited for Tiber to bring the ball back, and he threw it repeatedly until my wife finally called the dog to resume their walk.
This became a daily occurrence. Tiber had for whatever reason befriended the young man, who eventually after the first throw would sit himself on the ground and play the game with this silly dog.
We had often wondered about the origin of the young man’s behavior. Was he autistic? Was his condition a result of drug abuse? There were numerous runaways and serious drug users in the largest piazzas. But this young man was always alone and dressed in clean jeans, new sneakers, and a short-sleeved gray t-shirt.
Stationed in the west end of the Circus Maximus near the Church of the Boca de la Verità, the young man’s routine was ironclad: shaking legs, arms in motion in wild dance.
Only when Tiber arrived with his ball would the routine cease.
Then for the next fifteen minutes or so it was man and dog. Sitting on the ground to play after the first throw, the young man patted Tiber’s head to let him know that he approved the interruption.
As our time in Rome came to a close after three short years, my wife headed home early because of health issues, and she took Tiber with her.
I continued to trek across the city regularly, taking in the Circus Maximus on my route parallel to the Tevere. The young man was still there, dancing away.
I wondered if he missed Tiberius. Missed the brief normalcy that penetrated his sad routine for a short few minutes each day.
After a few weeks, the young man disappeared never to return.
It has been over two years since I gave this story any thought. I decided to take this short "respite" back to Rome because my wife had mentioned it, and my current novel is centered in the Eternal City.
If you happen to get to Rome, go to the Circus Maximus and let me know if you see the young manic dancer. Then I’ll tell Tiberius that his friend is still there, waiting for the dog with the yellow tennis ball.
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