I am walking down Borgo with Eni and Ilona Nurkollari. We are chatting merrily after a few drinks at Klaudio’s. It is almost midnight. When we reach my house, we spot Nero, Emil and Hana Soldatić’s shaggy, black dog, some way down the street. One of his legs thrust forward, his tail at half mast, he is standing still and gauging the situation from a safe distance. Lit by the sharp beam of a street lamp, he looks frozen in motion, like in a black-and-white photograph. “Nero!” I shout in mock anger. He does not budge. “Woof,” he responds at last in a single, sharp bark, turns around at a jump, and trots down the street in the direction of his masters’ house. The three of us burst into laughter and wish each other good night. That is Nero at his best. And most lovable. Audacious and yet cautious all at once.