BIMBO OF POMPEII

Thanks to the field of archaeology (the study of history based mainly on the material remains of human activity), body casts were used to identify a dog that had seen through the best and worst of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii. The poor creature was buried by a volcanic eruption in the year A.D. 79. Of Pompeii’s estimated population of 20,000, at least 2,000 were killed.

Here’s this tale by American poet and short story writer Louis Untermeyer. This is one of the best stories of animal heroism I learned in my English class. Every time I re-read the story, it always gives my heart a squeeze. It goes like this:

There was a poor boy named Tito. He was blind from birth. And Tito was also an orphan. Though he was known in the neighborhood, no one could say how old he really was. No one remembered his parents. No one knew where he came from.

Tito had a dog named Bimbo, which was another mystery. As long as people could remember seeing Tito – about 12 or 13 years – they had seen Bimbo with him, too. The dog never left boy’s side. To his blind master the dog was not only a pet, but nurse, playmate, parent, even a pillow, as well.

Tito and his dog lived under the wall by the inner gate of the city. Pompeii was described to be one of the merriest of the old Latin cities.

Bimbo would go out to scour for food, while Tito curled up in a corner – like a dog – asleep. Bimbo, would disappear and in a short while come back with food. Sometimes it was a piece of fruit or a scrap of meat. At other times there was nothing but a dry crust of bread.

There were also times when Bimbo brought back one of those flat, rich cakes, sprinkled with raisins and sugar on top. Tito liked the cake so much.

Early one day, Tito woke up or, rather, was pulled awake by Bimbo. The dog dragged Tito, signaling the boy to get on his feet and start moving in a certain direction. Tito could not figure out where they were going but followed the dog’s lead anyway. Tito’s feet stumbled uncertainly, as he was still half asleep.

For a while Tito noticed nothing unusual, except that it was hard to breathe. The air was hot and heavy, so heavy that he could actually taste it. It seemed the air had turned to powder, a warm powder that stung his nostrils and burned his sightless eyes.

Then he began to hear sounds. Noise. The earth twitched; the twitching soon becoming a continuous shaking of the ground. Then the ground shook forcefully under Tito’s feet that he was thrown off balance and fell on a hard surface. To walk was not enough now; they must run.

Tito panicked and didn’t know what to do or where to go. He had lost all sense of direction. He started going back to the inner gate, but Bimbo tried to garner all strength to pull Tito towards another direction. What did the Bimbo want? Tito was beginning to wonder is the dog had gone mad.

Then, Tito got it: Bimbo was trying to point to him the way out – leading him towards the sea gate. From the sea gate, the sea was near, and they would be safe there. There was the risk of being trampled to death by the fleeing people. But the chance had to be taken.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. It was all dust now – dust and pebbles, and pumice stones from the heart of Mount Vesuvius. The mountain was turning itself inside out. Sick with hunger, trembling in fear and suffocated by sulfuric fumes, Tito pounced on, pursued by Bimbo. Finally Tito reached the gate to the sea; he knew because he could feel the soft sand under him. Then Tito fainted.

Someone splashed seawater on him. Another one carried him toward a boat. He called for Bimbo but Bimbo was not there. The boy was tucked in among the many people in the boat. The oars then began splashing and the boat started moving over big waves. Tito was safe. But he was weeping all along. His Bimbo was nowhere to be found.

Eighteen hundred years passed. Archaeologists were restoring the ancient city. They found four huge millstones – and there was a whole wall standing with shelves inside it.

“Why! It must have been a bakery,” the leader of the team of archaeologists said. “And here’s a curious thing. What do you think I found under this heap where the ashes were thickest? The skeleton of a dog!”

“Amazing!” gasped his assistant. “You’d think a dog would have had sense enough to run away at this time. And what is that flat thing he’s holding between his teeth? It can’t be stone.”

“No. It must have come from this bakery. You know it looks to me like some sort of cake hardened with the years. And, bless me, if those little black pebbles aren’t raisins. A raisin cake almost two thousand years old! I wonder what made him want it at such a moment,” the lead archaeologist pondered.

“I wonder,” murmured the assistant.