Logan Bentley is an American journalist who has lived and worked in Italy for many years as reporter and photographer for many publications. She is Italian editor for the "Courvoisier Book of the Best" and a contributor to the Italian section of "Born to Shop".
This guide was compiled with the help of her super-shopper daughter Barbara Lessona who is as demanding as they come and can spot a good buy at a hundred yards.
Buy hand-painted Deruta ceramic tableware direct from factory in Italy and save!
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A Tribute to Tazio and Fangio
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To all the friends of Made*In*Italy*On*Line: Some of you may have clicked on the "about" link on the "Fashion & Design home page. Towards the bottom you found a photograph of our two Yorkies with special thanks to them. These thanks were heartfelt, because Tazio and Fangio have been faithful companions since December of 1994 when the Made*In*Italy*On*Line project was born. They spent literally thousands of hours keeping me company and providing inspiration as I typed away on my computer, originally a humble Toshiba 1000SE, creating the web and writing the texts, and later (scared to death) doing basic html code and transferring pages and images to our server (with much help from the angels at "support" at IServer.)
 I now feel guilty when I think of those many evenings that lasted until 3 and 4 am, with my dogs patiently waiting for me to turn off the computer, CNN, and turn out the light. With many nudges of cold noses, and much licking of my hands, they provided the support that kept me going, and gave me the courage to tackle those things that a technically-impaired reporter like myself, plunged into the fascinating world of Internet, approached with trepidation. Not once but twice, however, they expressed their disdain (or possibly jealousy?) of my laptop computer when I left it open on my bed where I often work in the evening. I don't know which dog did the honors but I replaced the keyboard twice.
 That's me in the photograph above, taken in the park, holding Tazio with Fangio sitting on my lap. In the large photo at the top of the page, taken during the summer of 1997, Tazio is wearing his summer haircut. (On the right, Tazio as a puppy, wider than he was long.)As I write this I am feeling devastated by the loss of Tazio on October 1, 1998, when I had to make one of the most painful and difficult decisions of my life, to allow his doctors to end his suffering. For a month he fought bravely and with determination against the sarcoma in his hip, helped by a new treatment with biophosphonates that the doctors hoped would give him a little more time with us. And in fact, we were permitted to enjoy his company for another month. The afternoon before he died he visited the park with Fangio and a friend, Darwin, a beautiful Golden Retreiver, and although he was not able to run after a beagle as he did the day before, he played with Darwin and had a wonderful time.
 (Left, Tazio's last day, with Darwin in the park. Funny how love alters your vision, I didn't realize how awful he looked until I saw this photograph.) And we were extremely fortunate, in our misfortune, to have found an animal hospital with doctors, nurses, and assistants who are not only extremely competent, but kind and compassionate with both the animal patients and their owners. His oncologist, Doctor Enrico Spugnini, recently returned from veterinary school in North Carolina, and cured him with love and compassion. Doctor Marco Varano, the director of the Zoospedale, was on sick leave as he had just been operated on his knee, but he came on crutches to the hospital to put Tazio to sleep forever. His "grandfather" (owner of his parents) Umberto Pizzi, kept in constant touch from Ischia, where he was on assignent. Another dear friend, Carina, who lost two precious dogs in the last two years, gave us her presence and comfort during the difficult days. Our Internet friends, Drs. Joseph and Laurie Braga, sent us heartfeld words of comfort.
 (Right, Fangio as a puppy) Now, thanks to yet another wonderful person, my daughter's cousin Caterina Moncada and her father Raimondo, our precious Tazio sleeps under an apricot tree near vineyards and a 17th-century villa built on the ancient town of Coriolanus in the "Castelli Romani" hills overlooking Rome, next to other adored dogs from the Moncada and Patrizi families. Tazio io, joyous, irreverent, loyal, affectionate, stubborn, a bit of a clown, a seducer, annoyingly insistent when it was time for his lunch and his evening dog biscuits, and a presence larger than life.
 (Left, Tazio and Fangio at the beach with Barbara) Fangio, his brother, is confused and puzzled. We are giving him as much love and attention as possible. When we returned to Rome after the sad trip to Monte Giove Fangio stopped in his tracks at the entrance to our apartment building. He glanced back, over his shoulder. I called to him to follow me up the stairs. But he remained there, and kept looking over his shoulder. I think he was waiting for Tazio to follow him. We finally had to pick him up and carry him up the stairs.
 (Right, the view from Monte Giove where my dogs are buried) We are thankful for the thirteen glorious years that Tazio spent with us. We are thankful for our friends and the doctors who saved Fangio's life just last April. For those who wonder about our dog's names, Juan Manuel Fangio and Tazio Nuvolari were famous Formula One racing drivers. My husband drove race cars for over 10 years, and I reported about Formula 1 Racing for 15 years. We hope that we were able to give Tazio as much joy and love as he gave to us. Dogs are indeed "Man's best friend."
 P.S. January 31, 1999 - Unfortunately, I must add a very sad note to this tribute. Last October, three days after we buried Tazio, we took Fangio to the vet, because he had stopped eating. We thought it might have something to do with missing Tazio but weren't sure. Dr. Varano opened his mouth, and saw a large growth at the back of his throat. He operated immediately, warning us that because of Fangio's age (almost 14) he might not survive the anasthesia. When Fangio woke up he was his usual perky self, and we settled down to wait for the result of the biopsy. It was a malignant melanoma. After being assured by Doctor Spugnini that he would do no treatment that would cause Fangio to suffer he started chemeotherapy.
 (Right, Fangio looks at puppy Tazio) Although brothers from two different litters, Fangio and Tazio were very different both in looks and character. Fangio, six months older, had a dark face and back, laced with silver, with a ruddy underside, Tazio was all blonde. Fangio was very precise, dignified, serious, a perfect English gentleman (although he loved to play with the dirty laundry) while Tazio was a screw-up, a nudger and a beggar at the table, and made himself heard when he got tired of waiting, sometimes to the point of exasperation. Very affectionate. Tazio was always trying to pick fights with the big dogs in the park, but once when a dog attacked an unsuspecting Tazio it was the smaller and gentler Fangio who ran to his rescue.
 Fangio fought his illness every inch of the way with great courage, and the last weeks as he grew thinner and weaker he made a huge effort to go down the stairs next to my bed and do his business on the newspaper. He was scheduled for chemeo the day before he died but we (my daughter Barbara and I) told the doctors we felt he had had enough. He had been nourished with an IV for almost two weeks. But we were still not ready to say goodbye. I think that this must be one of the hardest things that one has to do in life, to decide to put an end to the life of a loyal and loving friend.
 But that night I woke every hour, because Fangio's breathing was so labored. The next morning he cried seven or eight times, and he had barely made a noise since his first operation. Half an hour later he had convulsions, and then seemed to be in a coma. We called Doctor Varano and told him we were coming. He woke up after a while but I knew when he cried that he was telling me he was in pain. Barbara went to the lumber store and had a box made. Doctor Varano was waiting for us. As I did for Tazio, I held Fangio in my arms, wrapped in a cashmere shawl with patchwork to cover up the holes, looked into his eyes and murmured to him as the doctor searched for a vein. They were all collapsed.
 With Tazio it was over in a couple of minutes but Fangio was fighting for his life. He cried again. I was beside myself but I kept talking to him, telling him that he would soon be with Tazio and Tac, my other dog who died in 1966. Finally Marco was able to give him some Sodium Pentothal to help in sleep and then the curare. He cried again, and then his brave heart stopped beating. I truly hope he is now with Tac and Tazio playing and romping and running in that big park in the sky. Fangio would have been 15 in a couple of weeks, which is a good life span for a Yorkie. We were lucky to have him for so much time. The house is so empty without Tazio and Fangio. I will never have my own dog again, but my dream is to have a home in the country with a lot of land so I could take in abandoned dogs and care for them.
Logan Bentley Lessona
Editor and Publisher, Made*In*Italy*On*Line
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