Stray Dogs on Country Roads
Becoming the ideal insignificant Other during brief encounters in rural Thailand and Turkey
Reading Meditations between mountains
We are house-sitting in Kadikoy, in the Mugla region of south-western Turkey. During the cooling October mornings we feed ten cats, drink coffee and read. Yoga is slowly making its way back into our daily routine.
I read Meditations by famous stoic Marcus Aurelius.
“The time of a man’s life is as a point; the substance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole composition of the body tending to corruption.”
I started running again.
Near the end of our house-sit in the Spanish countryside, in July, our couple’s jog morphed into a solitary circuit, which I eventually gave up.
Late August in Italy, from Rome to Corciano. Our copious meals and full wine glasses make a number on my silhouette, which I rather not quantify using a scale. I have put on a few pounds.
To compensate for Italian overindulgence, I start running up-hill in the Turkish countryside.
The first few outings are atrocious. I am rusty, out of breath. I run ten minutes, back and forth, then eleven, twelve, thirteen.
From Chiang Khan to Kadikoy
The mountains around me are restive gods whose shapes shift according to movement or moment. These nearby giants seem peaceful when compared to their blazing brethren in Chiang Khan, Thailand, during Fire season in February.
If I look foolish during our house-sit in the Thai countryside, holding a dog on a leash, surrounded by stray mutts, in rural Turkey my jogging can also, on occasion, turn me into an object of human ridicule or canine scorn.
Kadikoy run - 01:00
A minute into the circuit, I pass the neighbouring house. The white Labra-doodle hates me. He barks when I cross his path going up. He growls when I see him on my way back. Sometimes, the owners leave the gate open. When that happens, he lunges towards me, with ever-increasing hostility and bravado.
The owners try to call him back, but if there’s an opening, it doesn’t matter. He just heads straight for me, yelling, snarling, hateful. I don’t dare adopt a more threatening posture in front of the owners. One morning, he miscalculates his attack, arriving too close, too fast, revealing his bluff. He groans as he runs away.
A man working at a greenhouse two minutes into my exercise routine mockingly mimics my runs but refuses eye contact when I get closer.
“Let not thy peace,” says the Christian, “be in the mouths of men.”
Fleeing territorial dogs in the Thai countryside
Walking Kira, I gradually expand the scope of explored territory. I end up meeting the same farmers and villagers, learning the value of consistency and humility.
By making eye contact whenever it’s welcome, and waving, with a slight bow, I garner growing sympathy. A wave reveals an unarmed hand. Lowering your eyes and showing the back of your head makes you vulnerable to attack. You are not a threat.
Invisibility and indifference slowly turn into smiling familiarity.
A local stops on her moped for bi-weekly conversations. Kira, who she knows, serves as an excuse for the conversational pit-stop, but the dog shows no interest. Kira would rather run towards oncoming motorbikes and trucks.
I learn that laughter at my expense (dare I say mockery), feels better than hostility or cold shoulders, which I also inspire from certain locals, who never warm up to me, whether in Chiang Khan, Kadikoy or anywhere else.
Kadikoy run - 03:00
Three minutes up the trail, there is a wood-working shed with two to three dogs. On the first few jogs, they come out of the garden and bark, though not as angrily as their white neighbour. I don’t really hear from those dogs anymore.
Kadikoy run - 04:00
Farther up, four big dogs are just resting on the side of the road, next to a heap of dirt and garbage. They look at me as I hurry past them, tired and indifferent. On my way back one of them seems to be barking at me, but really he’s calling a friend on the other side of the road to join them behind the dirt heap. I only see them once.
Five minutes up, I am startled by two teenagers on a bike as they brush past me, even though I had moved towards the far edge of the road upon hearing the upcoming roar of their motorcycle. This is the only example of overt hostility I have witnessed so far.
“The best kind of revenge is, not to become like unto them.”
In rural Thailand, the dog-walk map, expanding at first, tightens over time. I rather not walk on private property whenever I learn that a path belongs to a specific household.
This leads us to an increasingly unavoidable plot of land, sometimes fiercely protected by four to seven local dogs, who run after us, barking incessantly. I occasionally throw rocks in their direction, hoping to stop them in their tracks.
Sometimes, Kira and I run, not necessarily to flee the dogs, which we can’t really outpace, but just to shorten exposure to their unpleasant, aggressive barking.
Kadikoy run - 08:00
My favorite encounter occurs when a man driving a tractor, sporting a charmingly toothless smile, waves his raised hand once (like trying to screw in a lightbulb) as if to ask what the hell I’m running for. I smile back and shrug, hoping to convey the idea of submitting myself to pain in the name of unattainable Western body standards. I’ll never forget that smile. I like that guy.
Eight minutes into the run, there are two dogs who loosely monitor me. They live further inland, and I’m not really on their territory, but I am on their radar from time to time. At one point the bigger dog, a Rottweiler, is busy eating something on the ground, too gleefully busy to notice me. I bless the poor source of food, whose sacrifice has brought me a moment of peace.
Kadikoy run - 12:00
At the twelve minute mark, when my buzzer rings, signalling the end of my first half, there is a skinny, limping dog who seems to be part of the adjacent household. He’s never hostile, just curious. When I bend down and call him, he whimpers away.
“In sum, remember this, that within a very little while, both thou and he shall both be dead, and after a little while more, not so much as your names and memories shall be remaining.”
I keep running.