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If I was musically gifted in any way I would compose a love song to Turkish dogs, something along the lines of Elgar’s 9th variation of "Enigma" (Nimrod), and dedicate it to those who live independently, grace the streets with their peaceful presence, chose to accompany humans on their errands or commit themselves to keeping security guards or soldiers on duty company. 

Stray dogs – or "basi bos" (pronounced "bashi bosh") as they are called in Turkish - are often considered deprived because they don’t have owners who look after them. There are certainly sad stories about abandoned and mistreated dogs, malnourished to the point of starving, dying of untreated diseases or generally being victims of human ignorance or cruelty. Stray dogs may sometimes be more vulnerable than dogs with an owner, but all depends on the moral fabric of that particular owner, so a generalisation is not really helpful. 

To my delight I have found many independent dogs in very good health, neutered and caringly looked after by humans who don’t feel the need to own them. 
And I just love the sight of dogs running along the street with a purpose only known to themselves, lazily stretched out on a central island in the middle of a busy intersection or lying completely relaxed on their side on the pavement or close to the tables of an outdoor restaurant. 

They have such an air of dignity and are very well socialised. During all the time we lived in Turkey I have never observed a situation that escalated beyond a growl and a quickened retreat if necessary, even when feeding rival groups of stray dogs in close proximity, and never any incident involving a human! If not provoked into action they just peacefully mind their own way.

One of the most touching moments which I will cherish forever was when I was fortunate enough to witness the release of a recently sterilised female to the area where she had been picked up from and the re-union with her companion, who had faithfully waited for her without moving from that spot for over a week! 

One of my greatest pleasures in Turkey is to walk with my dogs very early in the morning on a weekday in the Belgrad forest, when only some joggers are around and maybe a few other dog owners with their companions. 
Once we met two very fit joggers accompanied - just for fun and definitely not chased! – by a group of about eight stray dogs, the youngest and fittest in the front, the oldest trailing at the back, their tongue hanging out, finding it hard to keep up but determined not to be left behind. 
Often we are also joined by unowned dogs, who escort us sometimes for a short while only, sometimes for the entire walk, and who run, play or swim in the lake with our dogs and then take their leave when we reach the car. Often we share a cuddle, sometimes in wintertime when the picnic and barbeque period has ceased they need some additional food, but otherwise they seem utterly content with their life!

On the other hand it breaks my heart to see their "owned" cousins when they have the misfortune to end up with humans that think about dogs the way J.M. Coetzee has described so poignantly in his novel "Disgrace": "They are part of the furniture, part of the alarm system. They do us the honour of treating us like gods, and we respond by treating them like things." How sad and how very true! 

Walking past some impressive houses with their beautifully kept gardens I do see some poor creatures in little pens with barely sufficient space even in the long gone days when the occupant was still a puppy, some chained to a tree or just kept in the solitary confinement of the fenced garden. These animals are often as strikingly beautiful as their surroundings, but if they are ever let out of their „golden cage“ it will be the gardener or maid accompanying them. Often these people simply don’t have the opportunity to learn how to deal competently and confidently with their dog, let alone the dogs they meet on the walk. Consequently they hang onto their „beasts“ ever so tightly with the shortest possible leash, mortified by the prospect of being confronted by another dog. 
My heart goes out especially to those dogs deprived of any meaningful social contact, for whom a quick sniff through and a bit of excitement along the fence seems to be the only social contact they are allowed to have, if they are let out of their kennel at all. 

This situation reminds me of Isobelle Carmody’s beautiful novel „Greylands“. The main character Jack meets the tragic laughing beast caged in a circus in the Greylands and the unpopular Monster Man who is on display in a fun park in his own world. And like Jack, who is not in a position to free either of them but who offers the laughing beast the gift of his compassion as well as his trust and presents the Monster Man with a beautiful gold-tipped purple feather, I can only offer to those dogs my heart’s song of compassion and love.

Posted on Facebook 11^th August 2011