That dog won't hunt: Life with Mia and Chilly
Güncelleme Tarihi:
by Gary Lachman
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Nisan 18, 2009 00:00
I have always been a dog person and I come from a dog family. By that I don’t mean I’m a domesticated werewolf in an attorney’s pinstripe suit (although I’ve been called worse), but rather that I never had a cat until I moved to Turkey and inherited one along with my adopted Turkish family and friends.
Since childhood, my canine companions have included a Collie, three Labradors, a Malamute, and a Samoyed. So it should come as no surprise that the recent movie, "Marley & Me" struck a particularly bittersweet chord with me. For those of you who haven’t seen this film, it is about a journalist and his family and their relationship with a Labrador named Marley who is extraordinarily mischievous and provides a considerable amount of both stress and "cement" for his owners. This past Sunday, we spent a cloudy afternoon watching it curled up in front of the TV, a box of tissues at the ready. For like most dog movies, it has an emotional ending.
Over the past two years, our cat Mia has decided that I am her favorite human and loves to cuddle up with me while purring orgasmically to my finger-combing and face-rubs. She practically ignores the others in the family. Dalia’s explanation is that this is because I am the only male living in an otherwise all-female household. I prefer to attribute Mia’s affection to my overwhelmingly charismatic personality and "Cat Whisperer" skills. She has given me an entirely different opinion of cats than previously held, and I have come to understand why Istanbul has such a tolerant and protective attitude toward all the street cats that roam its parks and alleys. Rather than being objects of scorn or pity, Istanbul’s feral feline population is as diverse and independent as its human inhabitants. The street dogs are cared for as well, and together with all the cats provide an interesting array of urban wildlife that is absent in nearly every other major city in the world. At first, tourists and business visitors to Istanbul are wary of all these "free range" creatures, worried that they will attack and transmit some horrific Ottoman rabies virus or Byzantine black plague. Only reluctantly do they accept our explanations that the animals are harmless and should be considered part of the landscape.
A breed apart
Our family dog, Chilly is an interesting case study in the unassailable need of dogs for human love. Dalia’s younger son adopted Chilly from a Humane Society Shelter while at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. Chilly was a frightened, miserable, abused, quivering creature that he slowly and lovingly nursed back to health (both physical and mental). His patience and attention literally saved her life, and when he moved to New York City last year, Chilly came to reside permanently with us in Istanbul. Her previous life and sufferings remain a mystery to us. Having been a member of a formal English fox hunting club for over twenty years in the States, I can say assuredly that Chilly, despite having perfect physical conformation to the breed, is completely unique in attitude and behavior. Foxhounds are virtually never kept individually as pets, but rather live in packs of 40 or more at fox hunting clubs and maintained as high performance athletes capable of running for over 20 kilometers at full speed after their quarry with thundering horses close behind. All the while they keep up their characteristic baying cry so that the huntsman, master, and field know where they are. Chilly, on the other hand, rarely lets out a yelp.
There’s an old expression that was occasionally employed by my old boss at the State Department when referring to a deal that just would not work; "That dog won’t hunt." Perhaps Chilly was one of those dogs that didn’t take to chasing foxes and tearing them apart, but she sure has found her talent as a loving family pet that helps keep all of us humans together. © 2009 Gary S. Lachman
Gary Lachman is an international lawyer formerly with the U.S. Department of State, real estate developer, and associate professor at the Johns Hopkins University with a consulting practice in Istanbul. He can be contacted at glachman@lachmanyeniaras.com.
Over the past two years, our cat Mia has decided that I am her favorite human and loves to cuddle up with me while purring orgasmically to my finger-combing and face-rubs. She practically ignores the others in the family. Dalia’s explanation is that this is because I am the only male living in an otherwise all-female household. I prefer to attribute Mia’s affection to my overwhelmingly charismatic personality and "Cat Whisperer" skills. She has given me an entirely different opinion of cats than previously held, and I have come to understand why Istanbul has such a tolerant and protective attitude toward all the street cats that roam its parks and alleys. Rather than being objects of scorn or pity, Istanbul’s feral feline population is as diverse and independent as its human inhabitants. The street dogs are cared for as well, and together with all the cats provide an interesting array of urban wildlife that is absent in nearly every other major city in the world. At first, tourists and business visitors to Istanbul are wary of all these "free range" creatures, worried that they will attack and transmit some horrific Ottoman rabies virus or Byzantine black plague. Only reluctantly do they accept our explanations that the animals are harmless and should be considered part of the landscape.
A breed apart
Our family dog, Chilly is an interesting case study in the unassailable need of dogs for human love. Dalia’s younger son adopted Chilly from a Humane Society Shelter while at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. Chilly was a frightened, miserable, abused, quivering creature that he slowly and lovingly nursed back to health (both physical and mental). His patience and attention literally saved her life, and when he moved to New York City last year, Chilly came to reside permanently with us in Istanbul. Her previous life and sufferings remain a mystery to us. Having been a member of a formal English fox hunting club for over twenty years in the States, I can say assuredly that Chilly, despite having perfect physical conformation to the breed, is completely unique in attitude and behavior. Foxhounds are virtually never kept individually as pets, but rather live in packs of 40 or more at fox hunting clubs and maintained as high performance athletes capable of running for over 20 kilometers at full speed after their quarry with thundering horses close behind. All the while they keep up their characteristic baying cry so that the huntsman, master, and field know where they are. Chilly, on the other hand, rarely lets out a yelp.
There’s an old expression that was occasionally employed by my old boss at the State Department when referring to a deal that just would not work; "That dog won’t hunt." Perhaps Chilly was one of those dogs that didn’t take to chasing foxes and tearing them apart, but she sure has found her talent as a loving family pet that helps keep all of us humans together. © 2009 Gary S. Lachman
Gary Lachman is an international lawyer formerly with the U.S. Department of State, real estate developer, and associate professor at the Johns Hopkins University with a consulting practice in Istanbul. He can be contacted at glachman@lachmanyeniaras.com.