Sardinia: An island of mad dogs and playboys

I hit the brakes hard and we screeched to a halt about 18 inches from the nose of a large dog. It stood, as if planted in the middle of the road, and gazed into our headlights. As incidents involving dogs in the middle of the night time go, this was, well, curious. I was about to congratulate myself on not making a Sardinian dog rug out of him when … bang! A little blue Fiat rear-ended us. As my frustrated, fatalistic co-victim and I edged our cars on to a grass verge for a long exchange of insurance details in the dark, the offending mutt meandered into the opposite lane where he was clipped by a van and spun through the air, landing on his feet with a yelp before vanishing through a hedge.

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