They say cats find you. You don't find them.  I couldn't agree more.  And so the story of Iggy Stardust begins.

Back in University I had spent an evening at the campus library toiling away (err...procrastinating...) on a Shakespearean essay. The library closed at midnight so I reluctantly packed up and headed back home at 12:01am. It was a lovely April evening, the air smelled like rotten mud and decaying leaves but when you've had such bitterly cold temperatures it's the welcome scent of Spring, thus Optimism. 

Nobody was around, except for this little mew mew mew of a hidden kitty cat, somewhere amongst the bushes. Now my campus was small, and there weren't any pets allowed on campus, so off the get-go I realized this was likely a lost kitty. Sure enough I see some rustling in the shrubs and I catch a glimpse of a medium-haired white and orange tabby. Very shy. 

45 minutes later, after jingling my keys, making kissy noises, shaking a plastic sandwich bag of ironic gold fish crackers, talking in a cat mom shrill baby "come heeeeere, come heeeeere" voice, out walks the lil muddied skinny character.  Still nervous of me but somehow I manage to pick him up. He doesn't fight the arm-held squeezes. I feel his body relax. I walk him home in my arms.  I'd never had a cat before, so I did what seemed instinctual,  I set him up with some water, which he drank right away. I also tried to give him some food but he was a tad reluctant. That's fair.  It was student tuna and not good for him any way. Now this was a Saturday night and the Humane Society didn't open until  Monday. Obviously, I knew I'd be having a lil house guest for the next 48hrs so I made him a nice bed, on my bed.  He turned out to be quite friendly, and had obviously at one time had a home, but he was really really skinny, like hip-bones a little exposed skinny, but still lovely, just straggly. 

Over the next 48hrs i connected with this lil character, who I'd named "Puck" (hence the Shakespearean essay) something about him was just so endearing, and we bonded (naming him was likely my first mistake). My plan was to call home and tell my parents I'd be coming home with a cat at the end of the school year. Parents were reluctant, but you could tell in my mums voice that traveling home with a four legged friend was now an inevitability.  I'd caught Cat Fever (though i still maintain through no fault of my own) 

I took him to the Humane Society and told them that if nobody claimed him, I'd like to adopt him and pay them for all the vet fees etc.  They said they'd call me in three days if nobody had claimed him. Turns out he was probably a year old and had been on his own for quite some time.  I anxiously awaited the phone call telling me I could go pick up the little dude. 

I get the call after only 24hrs. But it's not the call I wanted.   The Humane Society vet tells me "Puck" is jaundiced, and in severe liver failure. They could try to medicate, but they couldn't guarantee quality of life. They said it's best to euthanize. The four worst words to hear.  The vet said that often cats who are in dire straights will seek out humans they trust, and at least he had spent his remaining days in a warm place in a warm bed and that was a gift all its own.  I thanked them and graciously hung up the phone with a chocked-up-quivering soon-to-be-shattered voice. I immediately started to cry.  What a footprint he had left in my life. After only a weekend. At least I got to say good bye. At least he spent his last few nights pawing at my pen purring while I wrote my essay and not alone in the campus woods. 

What followed was a gaping cat-shaped hole in my life. I then spent the rest of the summer researching, going to the library, thinking about all things feline.

Later that summer, I get an email.

It's a tail and old as time. University, someone discovers an abandoned cat  wandering the apartment hallways. Friends take Hallway Cat in, Hallway Cat meets Resident male cat. After a week, Resident male cat goes in for routine dental clean, and passes away from bizarre complications. Soon after, friends discover Hallway Cat is pregnant.  Resident Male Cat leaves a legacy. 

So now I knew that there was a cat waiting for me when I got back for my last year of school. They sent me pictures of the litter, and said I'd be able to have first pick.  They were born in late July, and I'd gotten to know them over a few months. Finally, it was time to take my kitteh home at Thanksgiving, a ginger girl, the only female of the litter who I named Iggy Stardust (Iggy for Iginla, and Stardust for obvious David Bowie inspired reasons)

Iggy would spend the next three years traveling with me, going back and forth on flights to Calgary, driving across the country, living in different apartments, being adorable. We went to visit my mum over Christmas three years ago, my mum, having said good bye to our elderly family dog at Thanksgiving, welcomed having a four legged friend around.  Mum and Iggy immediately bonded more than usual, and so I said she could hang out there for another week. Well, another week turned into another week, turned into my mum getting Iggy a new adorable pink collar, and personalized tag, turned into another week.  So Iggy's now a permanent resident my mums place, it just sort of happened naturally. She'd never had a cat before but Iggy is her constant companion and great therapy. I see her all the time, and it's funny because it's like she knows who I am. "Oh!! It's you! Hello. How are you? I'm having a great time here, check out my cat house, check out my shaky mice!"  I've never felt sad about the natural adoption thats taken place because she's still in the family and she has daily if not hourly mew mew conversations with my mum who is always baking. I can hear her on the phone.

A few months later, I'd meet Doberdad who is ironically incredibly allergic to cats, so it's all worked out.

I love cats, they are amazing to observe and interact with. They each have such a distinct personality, and seem to do everything on purpose. If and when they do something that they didnt mean to, rather than look embarrassed for making a mistake, they simply act like they meant to do it. I love that about them. Theyre so unapologetic. I'd love to see Loki with one.

Without further adieu,  I present to you Miss Iggy Stardust, whom I'd never have adopted if it wasn't for "Puck"

In light of the upcoming trip, though it is five months away, I can't help but google all things Euro. After a few clicks on Trip Advisor paired with Lonely Planet and various wiki-sites, I've come to notice the prevalence of Street Dogs in Turkey.  In order to prepare myself for wanting to adopt all canines within arms length, or having fits of missing Loki, I thought I'd check out their bittersweet story.

There are approximately 150,000 stray dogs in Istanbul and surrounding areas.


Religious Stigma: Most practicing Muslims do not keep dogs as pets because they are generally considered unclean. Also, Muslims – who make up 99 percent of the population in Turkey – believe that angels will not visit a home that contains a dog. According to Sunni tradition – which accounts for 85 percent of the Muslim world – the prophet Muhammad reportedly did not like dogs, so people of that culture generally stay away from taking them in as pets. Islam instructs its followers to take care of all creatures, and so many people feel compelled to offer a bit of food, and fresh water, to the strays that live around the city. (Lorena F. Aspe-Northern University)

Poor Unfortunate Souls: "Great Dog Massacre of 1910," an event embedded in the city’s folklore. Ottoman authorities rounded up most of Istanbul’s 60,000 stray dogs and dumped them on the deserted island of Sivriada, a tooth of rock that lies in the nearby Marmara Sea. The dogs slowly starved to death.

Modernizers wanted to transform Istanbul Alongside promoting constitutionalism, secularization, and nationalism, they wanted to rid Istanbul of stray dogs, which they saw as symbols of a disorderly and backward urban society.

Attacking the dogs went hand-in-hand with attacking religion and superstition: dogs were reportedly treated better in religious areas and local folklore had it that when dogs were treated badly, disaster would soon strike the city. Modern Istanbul would be free of such superstitions, as well as dog shit, dog-borne diseases (such as rabies), and barking. Once cleansed of these unsavoury elements, the officials hoped, it would be clean, rationally planned and productive: no longer would barking disturb the sleep of tired urbanites who had to work in the morning.

Stray dogs represented dirt, disease and danger. For their city to progress, the dogs had to go. But they did not succeed in eradicating dogs from Istanbul, despite repeated poisoning campaigns, such as the gassing of over 5,000 dogs in 1933 and 1934. Stray dogs therefore remain part of the city today and look set to continue as sources of controversy, targets of “cleansing” campaigns, and focal points of compassion and fascination (Chris Pearson, University of Liverpool).

New Law Developments:

Authorities say the dogs and cats will be fed and cared for at the new "habitat parks" situated on city outskirts, where they will be visited by school children and available for adoption.

"The proposed law aims to make animals live," the Ministry of Forestry and Water, which drafted the bill, said in a statement last month. "The aim is to prevent bad treatment of animals, clarify institutional responsibilities, and to strengthen the mechanisms of animal ownership.”

Currently Turkey's strays are rounded up by municipal authorities, who generally vaccinate and spay or neuter them before releasing them back onto the streets with ear tags.

Animal rights activists are suspicious of government motives. (Alexander Christian-Miller)

What about their health? Noticeable on the strays of the streets  are plastic yellow or metal tag punched through the the dog’s ear showing the “neuter – vaccinate – release.” tactic implemented by the Sahipsiz Hayvanlari Koruma Dernegi Shelter in order help control the population and spread of rabies. Turkish government has made it a law for municipalities to neuter and release dogs (but there are obviously very sad cases wherein dogs are taken to vile municipal shelters)

They are Citizens too:

Street animals have been a part of Turkish culture for generations, and many Istanbul residents believe they have as much right to inhabit the streets as humans.

In the central Beyoglu district, a shopping and nightlife hub popular with tourists, stray dogs and cats are a fixture of the crowded, narrow streets. They are fed and often groomed by local businesses and residents. Some even become local celebrities such as Nazli, who was referenced in a few articles online but I found this one.

"One such character is Nazli, an obese Rottweiler mongrel who spends her days waddling between cafés, butchers, and fishmongers off Istiklal, the city’s busiest shopping street.

“Everyone loves her,” says Kubilay Bircan a café worker on Hazzo Pulo Passage, where Nazli often sleeps at night. “The shopkeepers feed her with different things: fish and meat mainly. We all take care of her,” he says.

Four years ago, local tradesmen, concerned about the length of her toe nails, wrestled Nazli to the ground so a veterinarian could clip them, recalls Rita Cindoyan, a shopkeeper in the passage. “You couldn’t just take [Nazli] to a new place because she has been here all her life and she is looked after,” she says.

At Coskun butcher’s shop in the nearby Fish Bazaar, where Nazli is better known as Zehra, manager Ibrahim Ersoy is blunt about the proposed law.

“We would not let it happen,” he said. “In our language we have a saying that the one who doesn’t love animals can’t love people.”  (Alexander Christian-Miller)

Time for Some Information Overload (but hey at least there are pictures!):

Are you overloaded with information yet? No? That's great! I just wanted to add this great blog post. I have a feeling I will be echoing this point of view:

"Many Americans, myself included, leave ourselves open to ridicule for spoiling our dogs like surrogate children. If you informed the average Turk that you’d spent thousands of dollars on hip replacement surgery or chemotherapy for your dog, his head would spin like a whirling dervish. The Ottoman Empire fell shortly after the last sultan installed a four-ton crystal chandelier in Dolmabahçe Palace; ours may ultimately topple under the profligacy of spending precious resources on doggie daycare and vet bills.

Like homeless people in American cities, Turkey’s street dogs are a tear in the social fabric, a vexing social problem that resists easy solutions and forces us to reflect on our values. Inured to their suffering, we accord the homeless the fundamental right to live on the street, but in turning a blind eye we overlook how little comfort or security such liberty holds. The same might be said for Istanbul’s dogs."

I will be sure to account for this when I visit. Stay Tuned......

Warning: This is a Mixed-Bag Post :)

Mr. Doberdog and I are certainly great friends, he's a curious guy, loves everyone he meets, and from what we've seen, loves children and babies. He wags profusely at strollers, which leads me to believe he might have known a few kidlets in his past.  As pathetic as this may sound, we like to test out his food bowl  periodically, we'll stick our hands in and around his dry food,  manhandle his muzzle, play with his ears, his hindquarters, his paws, as he eats. He never has an issue, he doesnt even notice. I've crawled on all fours over to his food bowl (you can judge me, it's ok) and stuck my face in his face with zero reaction just the loud crunchy crunch of his kibble (i would never do this with any other dog but him). Often three year olds will "LOOK MAMA A BIG DOG-GEE" him and they'll pat his back, he's so tolerant, in fact i think he secretly loves children because they might have a lot common, the simple things entertain them. I'd like to expose him to more children but understandably, parents are afraid of him, and often wait for us to pass on the sidewalk.

As wonderful has Loki is with all people, I can't help but feel a tad envious of the majority my social group who have adopted very well off-leash-on-leash-dog-on-dog socialized dogs. We were recently discussing the bond they share with local dog owners at their various off-leash parks. One of my friends said point-blank "I love my dog park family, I see them sometimes twice a day, at least once a day, I talk to them more than my family. They even have dog park bbqs and picnics in the summer." 

Now, I certainly do agree that having a dog forces you out of your walking inner-monologue and is great for impromptu conversation. I'm only envious that I've not been able to take him to these popular parks because of how reactive he can be with certain large dogs. Street encounters are usually a lot better. Blogs have been a great outlet, almost like an off-leash dog park in their own right, with no limitation to what you discuss and lots of wags. I'll consider this my place for a bbq tailgate.

In a somewhat related note: I'm going to be taking a trip to Turkey (my first time overseas!) this summer for a sixteen day cross-country adventure. My Dad (who is a fantastic dog-grampa to Loki) will be taking him for a part of the time. For the other half of the time we are unsure as to who can officially take him, likely another relative but I feel really stressed about the social rules that surround Loki, it can't be someone who is not used to handling an animated 84lb dog. I generally suffer from Anxiety, but this element of summer vacation has me stressing about the "What Ifs".  "What if they introduce him to the wrong dog?" "What if he pushes a door open and excitedly bolts into a strange neighborhood?" (It's happened before but he didnt really run too far, just ran around into people's garages with this hysterically mischievious look on his face, zig zagging across the streets)  We've left him for weekends before, but never this long.

I am almost positive that as we are channeling our inner-Indiana Jones while horseback riding amongst the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia,  I'll see his little-big Doberdog face represented in a bunch of random things much like this hilariously true blog post from the pack at RasZoBai

Loki recently had an appointment to have his nails trimmed (he's really wiggly so I can't quite manage clipping at home, plus his nails are thick and black making the quick difficult to work with) The vet said that because he's always being walked on pavement, especially long distances, it's been acting a natural nail file and that there was no immediate need for a trimming. I was surprised to hear this but she explained that none of his nails were touching the ground. His last trim was October!  I figured while I was at the office, I'd weigh him to see how much he has improved since an intestinal issue he had suffered for a few weeks in early fall. 

Upon first adopting him April (he'd been at the sanctuary for 4 months):  72lbs  Age 2.5
July Weight: 74lbs
October Weight: 76lbs  Age 3
February weight: 84lbs

Now, I imagine some of this increase is his winter weight, because he walks are shorter in extremely cold weather. Also, because of his intestinal issues we switched his food from Hills Science Diet Advanced Fitness to Orijen Regional Red which is 75% protein, 25% fruit/vegetable (this was in late September).  The weight gain is could be because of the amount of protein in his diet.  In order to keep him at a healthy doberman weight (as opposed to his husky side, he's built more like a doberman than husky) we will likely be switching him to another line of Orijen, something that's has less calories and is more for healthy maintenance. He only gets 3 cups of food a day, at breakfast. Dr. Vet told us that he is now at his top weight bracket for dobermans and to be careful because huskies are prone to obesity.  He gets about 8km-11kms of walks per day. Unfortunately, because he's a bit of a flight risk we don't have very many places fenced in places for him to run off leash in the city that arent dog parks. We do our best with his 30ft lunge line....he runs circles on that thing. 

We have now gone through every season with him. It's been such a pleasure to see him so healthy, enjoying the snow, as with many other dogs, it's a youthful experience, I notice dogs are at their happiest while bounding around in the white stuff. Snow play is almost better than splash play, bringing them back into canine puppyhood with one little step into fresh powder. Below are some pictures of some recent adventures.

Hi all!!

Been a tad too long since I've posted! For those of you that are still nestled in to this blog, thanks for your pawtience!

We've had lots of snow adventures this past week, some great, some not so great. I'll begin with the not-so-great.

As many of you might know, despite his regal looks Loki is far far from pawfect. The sanctuary told us that he he needed proper canine introductions. He can be quite reactive around certain dogs, and he's been doing really well with on-leash introductions these past few months. He has lots of furry city friends.

I took him up to the Valley this weekend to spend some time in the Grove and in the fields. While heading out for a walk in the rural town, a lovely female Golden was strolling by just as we were leaving the house. Her owner seemed welcoming, and Loki showed no signs of real concern, just interest so I proceeded with an introduction. We walked toward the other dog and its owner, Loki and the Golden took about a 2.5second sniff before a mutual I EFFIN' DON'T LIKE YOU dominance dance started. At least that's what I'm going to call it because I've never seen it escalate like that.  They snarled, growled, snapped, flailed, mounted, pinned....while getting entangled in their leashes, very unsettling to see two dogs at their seemingly primal worst. Myself and the other owner did what we could to pry them apart without injury which we did. I'm really not sure if there was really any biting but certainly lots of throaty noises. The other owner was a tad stressed but by no means overly dramatic during this, which I appreciated because often Loki faces Doberdog prejudice but nobody was to blame.  After we separated the dogs, the owner said somewhat sympathetically  "Well, that was a meet and greet"   She smiled, and I thanked her for her patience.

Now, preferably we would then reintroduce the dogs again and again until they gave up the good fight, but the lady was in a rush to keep going on her way. I brought Loki right back onto the door step and he lay down in place with that guilty "What did I just do, oh lawwd I'm in trouble" look. After about twenty minutes of Time-Out in the vestibule, he was extra well behaved on the walk that followed. 

Now, I really don't speak Doganese. I read about behaviours, I watch certain shows about trainers and "whisperers" in an attempt to try to improve my vocabulary......but at the end of the day, we can't read every signal that a dog sends to another dog.

There are things we may not even see, dog language lost in translation. Who knows, perhaps the Golden gnashed her teeth silently upon first approach and he overreacted, or vice versa....perhaps he was defensive because he was in unfamiliar territory.....there are too many unknowns, so I try not to take it personally.

At the end of the day, I can't put Loki on the therapist's chez lounge, put my reading glasses on the tip of my nose, bust out the clipboard and ask him existentially reflective questions about his puppyhood/doggyhood and why he is the way that he is. Certainly, there must have been episodes that moulded the clay that is Doberdog but these moments will always remain in the heavily coded canine lock-box of the past, in which none of us have the key, not even Loki himself..

The silver lining to this Doberdog-play-book (sorry I couldn't resist) is that often the more negative moments I learn the most from, in any aspect of life. We continue to move forward, onward and upward, and wagward!