Happy Spring!

March is spent by windows

Counting flurries

in a frenzy

While shovels

Ready by the door 

clink clink clink

Impatiently 

How we met Babette

Well, on that particular post-9/11 day, New York City smelled of soot and despair. I was far too early for an appointment and decided that the pet store could not possibly smell worse than the streets outside.

I wandered around aimlessly for a while until I noticed a tiny black-and-white dog. There she was: bloody paws scraping against metal grates, spinning in frantic circles, barking inside a cage so small it looked designed for a toaster oven rather than a living creature. A crude price tag dangled from the bars.

I was furious. Clearly, I had to save her.

Growing up, I was forever dragging home stray cats and dogs—there were plenty roaming the streets of 1970s Istanbul—only to hear: “There are people in need! Animals don’t belong in houses. They’re dangerous flea bags!”

That was simply the norm back then. Dogs were either guard dogs or semi-wild creatures patrolling the streets like tiny furry gangs. I was fascinated by them—their freedom, their unruly independence. Much more interesting than people, frankly. I was also slightly terrified of them, which probably added to the appeal. They lingered outside our house, outside butcher shops, outside bakeries, as though they had nowhere urgent to be and all the time in the world.

Loving another creature is no small undertaking to begin with. Then try doing it with what is essentially a tiny alien who requires twenty-four-hour room service, round-the-clock bathroom assistance, endless training, and fluency in an entirely new woof-based language.

But unlike human babies, dogs do not grow up, move away, and later annoy you with millennial opinions. Betrayal, malice, and meanness are foreign concepts to them. They dwell almost exclusively in the kingdoms of Love and Treats.  And as we all know what a drug is Love  and we were hooked!

Their quiet presence is a balm. They make the medicine go down—just as Mary Poppins promised.

We named her Babette, and to honour her namesake  we made a big feast!

Read on…