Who Let the Dogs Out?

We’re moving!  After one week’s unpacking and cleaning the Turkish landlord and his wife have told us we’ve moving to the apartment next door assuring us its much, much better.   Although I can’t quite understand the sense of urgency.  On the up side it does have a washing machine – RESULT.  As I have agreed to work the afternoon shift in the shop, by the time I return Ahmed and two of his brothers and the landlord, have moved our possessions into the next door apartment with the speed of lightning and the spring cleaning is well underway.  All seems well, until I try to access the main bedroom which appears to be locked!  Ahmed laughs when I question this and tells me that the previous tenant has done a runner leaving his belongings, which are stored in the main bedroom until he comes to collect them.  Amused, I am not!  Any attempts to discover how long this situation is likely to continue is met with a ”s’okay it’s Turkey”. 

This means we will be kipping in the smaller bedroom (obviously designed for two small children) and boasting a bunk bed.  After a long evening spent tidying and catching up with our laundry, we retire to bed.  After some negotiation, its agreed that Ahmed will occupy the top bunk and I will take the bottom bunk although I nearly sustain serious head trauma on the ladder whilst climbing into bed.  No sooner do our heads hit the pillow, when the two Doberman guard dogs in the next door apartment building start barking and continue more or less until dawn.  Ahmed was whispering Turkish curses throughout the night, none of which would be suitable for ears of small children.  Wearily dragging ourselves out of bed to open the shop, we notice a van arrive and start to unload furniture into the apartment we have vacated.  Curious and curiouser!


6 thoughts on “Who Let the Dogs Out?

  1. Oh! The DOGS… That’s not funny. We don’t have any Dobermans in our neighborhood to my knowledge, but we have an assortment of mutts of all shapes and sizes that start up their nightly chorus usually around – yes, bedtime. What gets them really worked up is when there is a dog out on the street – a vagabond if you will – or if someone is taking their dog for a walk, running the gauntlet of every gate where dogs await. Thing is, dogs are the best form of security here – people are terrified of them, even our somewhat retarded semi-Weimaraners, who prance around all night pretending to be fierce.


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