A Dog’s Life

We’ve not really posted much for a while, and there’s been a good reason. Something tragic happened in our little family and it’s taken time to come to terms with it.

We didn’t want to blurt it out but neither did we want to ignore it, and writing about other events in our lives just didn’t seem important.

Now, as we enter a new chapter, it feels like the right time to explain.

Our two dogs, Fidget and Fifi, weren’t perfect and it’s fair to say they gave us some challenges. But they were also our ‘Princess Pups’ – they enriched our lives and we loved them dearly.

Fidget

Fifi

When we lost them back in May, it hit us all hard. Small though they were, the hole they left was huge. Without going into too much detail, high winds brought down power cables into puddles left as a result of a nearby pool being drained. On a walk one morning, the pups reached the live puddles first….

Anyone who’s lost a pet knows how traumatic it can be. It didn’t help that we were all apart at the time – Steve and Emma in the UK for Em’s exams, and me at home alone. We all agreed we couldn’t even think about another dog, that we needed time to get used to being at home without ‘the girls’ bouncing around.

Then I saw the photograph on Facebook. ‘Dave’ was a young German Shepherd who was found by holidaymakers. He was in a bad way and only had the use of three legs due to a break in the fourth that had fused as it mended. He’d been living on the streets and, although they were looking after him, they were leaving in a few days. ‘Dave’ needed a home, somewhere he could rest and recuperate.

I felt torn. Part of me didn’t feel ready to take on another dog, but I kept returning to his picture, looking at his face. “Help me,” his eyes seemed to beg.

After a couple of days I mentioned it to Steve and we agreed we would take him in, albeit on a temporary basis. Two days later, we brought him home. He was quiet and unsure of himself, but so gentle and trusting. He didn’t know how to play and was unaccustomed to treats. He didn’t like having eye drops administered – he had an infection – but he didn’t make a fuss while we did it. He’d sit patiently outside the door waiting for food. He accepted a collar and lead, but a short walk up the lane was quite enough to tire him out.

That was three months ago. And now?

The new boy in our lives – darling Dillon.

He’s enjoying two walks a day of 5-6km each, and half the time he’s up for more. He loves shoes and regularly steals them off the racks outside the front door – he doesn’t chew them, just hides them in his secret stash. His favourite game is ‘fetch’ with a squeaky rubber ball, though more often he runs off with it to do a victory lap of the garden. He’s started to use his bad leg to walk and play, and can even jump easily – if not gracefully – into the back of our Land Rover. He loves other dogs and people; he’s kind and friendly and has the sweetest temperament, as well as a cheeky, mischievous streak. Essentially, now he’s safe and cared for, his body can use its energy to recover, rather than just survive.

We’ve renamed him, as ‘Dave’ just didn’t seem to fit. He’s now ‘Dillon’ – or Dill. We always said we’d have a dog called Dill – and anyone who remembers The Herb Garden will recall he was Parsley’s best friend.

He’s carved out his own niche in our home and our hearts, so much so that we’ve decided to adopt him for good. We did wonder if we were doing the right thing – not because we don’t love him or aren’t certain we want him, but because, in our little backwater, he’s not popular with the villagers.

His breed, the way he looks, means he’s automatically regarded with fear and suspicion. The locals are convinced he’s a vicious killing machine that will decimate their flocks and probably rip out their children’s throats. Even though he’s always on a lead and barely gives livestock a passing glance as we go by, a couple of steps towards them has people almost leaping into the bushes to escape this fearsome menace.

We do worry, when we walk him, that he’ll sniff out poisoned meat and eat it without us noticing. Somebody could even come to our house when we leave him – though we don’t, very often – and feed it to him through the gate, or even shoot him. It happens, sadly.

But we’ve decided that we’re his best option and we’re delighted he’s going to be a permanent member of the family. The girls are forever in our hearts, but there’s space for him too.

It’s good to have a dog again.

Hi honey, I’m home…..

Last week, I went home. I don’t care where I was born or where you might consider my hometown to be – my heart and my soul belong to Fethiye.

From the moment I stepped off the plane at Dalaman Airport, I knew I was in the right place – and I can’t pretend I wasn’t relieved. It had been a while since my last visit and I was nervous that Turkey had acquired a rose-tinted veil in my subconscious. What if it wasn’t as beautiful as I remembered? What if I didn’t feel as comfortable or at ease? What if my inner self – the instinct, the core of conviction we know we should heed – whispered that, actually, moving there was a mistake?

I needn’t have worried. The place, the people, the food, the music – it was all every bit as wonderful as I remembered. All I could think was how much I longed to stay and, just an hour after arriving, I was already dreading the day I’d have to leave.

This isn’t a tourist site. I’m not going to recommend bars or restaurants or tell people where to visit. (That said, Fethiye Fish Market is an absolute must; if you ever get invited to a Turkish wedding then you really should take the opportunity; and if you fancy a boat trip then make sure you go with Captain Tommy and tell him I sent you.)

One of my most poignant moments came on the Sunday, as I lay on Olu Deniz beach. It was perfect – a cloudless blue sky, 26C temperature, gloriously warm sea. I lay on my sunbed, read my Kindle and watched the paragliders drift down to earth from Babadag mountain. The only thing missing was my family, and that made me want to cry.

But the week wasn’t just a holiday – it was for fact-finding, information-gathering, making friends and contacts. I’ve learned that the best way of finding out anything is definitely to get out there on the ground and do it in person. I’ve already started online research of course – made virtual friends on the ex-pat forums and websites, asked questions and received some valuable answers. But you can’t beat being there.

As an example, let’s take finding a home. I’ve seen posts online from people looking for long-term lets. I’ve seen them repeated when nobody responds. If I’m honest, this made me a little anxious. What if we couldn’t find anywhere?

Now, I know it won’t be a problem. There are plenty of places available – you just need to know where to look. Maybe it sounds obvious, but while it’s all very well to Google ‘homes for rent in Fethiye’, if the estate agent’s website is in Turkish, it’s not going to show up.

I was very lucky to meet some wonderful Turkish people in Kayaköy, where I was staying – in fact, they are now friends. Having them on-side will make some of what we have to do that much easier and I’m already planning a return trip in a couple of months to sort out some of the necessary admin.

I can’t wait. I was so close to simply not getting on the plane home, and I wish I could wind time forward six or eight months……or maybe I’ll draw up a chart and tick off the days as they go by, as a child might do for Christmas.

One thing is for sure – if there had ever been the slightest doubt, it’s gone – my future is in Fethiye.

RP