Turkish Muse

Lessons on Standing Up for Yourself

Yesterday we took our two cats Lou and Andy (both imported from America when we came to Turkey two and a half years ago) to the vet to get their nails clipped before leaving for the US on Tuesday. (Clipping their nails before we leave on a trip ensures minimal damage to my belongings. So does rolling up the carpets and putting them away.)

 

Lou and Andy

Both cats have gingivitis, something our vet Can was seeing for the first time yesterday. They've had bad teeth and gums since they were kittens, and a vet in Philadelphia told us three years ago that gum disease would continue to be a problem as Lou and Andy got older.

But Can's mind went to more sinister territory. As he showed me in his Turkish vet medical book, 25-30% of cats with feline immunodeficiency virus -- essentially, cat AIDS -- present with gingivitis symptoms. That's nice, I said, but they've already been vaccinated against AIDS, PLUS they've both have gingivitis since they were 3 months old.

Can wasn't having it. We went around and around, him telling us that gum disease is a clear sign of cat AIDS, me telling him that a) they've been vaccinated; b) they've had gingivitis since they were babies; and c) they exhibit no other symptoms of AIDS.

Assuming that I must have misunderstood him and did not grasp the magnitude of the situation, Can called his English-speaking friend Gul over to translate. She proceeded to tell me everything Can was telling me. Just in English.

"I understand everything you're saying," I told Can. "But it is impossible that they have cat AIDS. What you're saying doesn't make any sense."

"I am 99% sure they have AIDS," he told his assistant. In front of me. Striking fear into my heart.

Now, as anyone with a pet can attest, this is classic vet behavior. My cats are perfectly healthy, minus a bit of gum disease, but what vet is going to accept that? What vet can resist proclaiming that your cat needs a $240 test for this, or a $150 blood sample for that?

And to be honest, Can and I have been at loggerheads before. A few days ago, in fact, I took Phoenix and Frankie in to have their nails clipped and was berated for not bringing my cats in every three months for anti-parasite medicine.

But I feel that this issue is much larger than vet-takes-advantage-of-cat-loving-foreigners-willing-to-do-anything-to-ensure-said-cats'-health.

I think there are other issues at play here regarding different cultural assumptions, my lack of trust in Turkish veterinary science, and also, my weakness in standing up for myself and my beliefs in the face of what I consider questionable customs.

There are some cultural differences that are completely innocuous and whether or not you subscribe to them is generally unimportant to how you live your expat life here in Turkey. Wearing slippers in the house, for example. Afternoon tea. Putting on an undershirt in the winter.

But expats also must deal with much larger cultural differences sometimes and most of my experience with these has been at the vet's office. I am, in general, skeptical of most vets in Turkey, and doctors, for that matter. I do not trust doctors to always know what is best for me (or my cats), the way that 73% of Americans do. And I do not have a lot of faith in Turkish vets (see here).

Despite this, when faced with the threat -- and I do not use this term lightly -- that my cats might have AIDS, well, Jeff and I did the only thing responsible pet owners would do: we authorized the test. That is, when confronted with the idea that my precious little babies might have a life-altering disease for which there is no cure, I went with the one thing that would ease my mind: a 240 TL blood test to tell me what I really already knew: Lou and Andy don't have cat AIDS.

Which, I should point out, was always obvious to me. But that makes me the dumb one in this situation, doesn't it?, since I essentially gave in to the vet's scaremongering tactics. I failed to stand up for myself, and indeed my cats, who were subjected to a quite unnecessary and stressful blood draw.

So the question I want to throw out there today is: How do you stand up for yourself in the face of differences -- whether cultural or not -- when you believe firmly that you are in the right?

Whether at the vet's office or the doctor's office, whether on behalf of your cat, your child or yourself, how do you say to a Turk, "No, I don't believe/trust/follow you"? How do you stand up for yourself when you are entrenched in an established community with certain beliefs and protocols that you simply don't subscribe to?

You guys are really awesome

Thank you to each and every one of you who commented or wrote me an email expressing your sympathy over the recent death of Peaches. I read each and every one of them and really appreciate you guys taking the time to share your condolences.

We are still not exactly sure what happened to poor Peaches when she got her vaccinations last weekend, but whatever happened, something sure went wrong. In the past several days, I have learned that this kind of thing does happen, usually as a result of vet error or allergies, but it is rare and it certainly doesn't make me feel any better about it.

Anyway, all I wanted to say is, thanks so much, you guys, for trying to cheer me up and sharing your own stories.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

I know I haven't been around much the past several days. So much for my 30 posts in 30 days. Ah well.

Unfortunately, what brings me back to blogging today is not to tell you about how I spent my weekend at a five-star hotel and thermal spa (a birthday present from Jeff), or share with you how I learned how to make the most amazing roasted veggies from our Couchsurfers last night, or how I finally managed to make the best brownie-cheesecake I've ever had in my life, all of which, I promise, I will get around to telling you about.

But right now there is something else weighing heavily on my mind.

Right now my heart is very heavy and sad.

Peaches, the little kitten that we rescued from the street, rehabilitated in our bathroom and found a loving home with our new friend Lloyd, died from "complications" from a series of vaccinations she received over the weekend.

I don't know how it happened. I don't understand any of it. I have never heard of kittens dying from vaccinations. I mean, aren't vaccinations supposed to SAVE a kitten's life, prevent her from dying?

I haven't talked to Peaches' vet yet, but when I do, ooh you better believe he's getting a piece of my mind. In English, of course, because I am not fluent enough in Turkish yet to stream off the obscenities that I think are in order here.

From what I can tell on the internet, kittens can die from complications from vaccinations, but it appears to be rare, and when it does happen, two causes are most likely: 1) the kitten had a severe allergic reaction to something, or 2) the vet gave the kitten too many vaccinations at once or too much of a single vaccination.

I would like to believe that Peaches' death is not the vet's fault, but....but...this is Turkey, and -- I'm just going to say it -- the level of veterinary medical care in this country stinks. It is no where near as developed as vet science in Western countries, and I secretly harbor a wee bit of ill will towards various vets, some of whom are very good friends and people, for things that I think would have been handled differently in the US.

To have spent all that time and energy and love and affection and attention and, yes, money, on Peaches, to have saved her from a life of misery on the street, to have nursed her back to health and given her a wonderful home, to have played with her and loved her and cuddled her, to have fallen completely in love with her, and now this.

Something we thought would be good for her, would make her healthy, would make her strong, would make her live to 17, has killed her. I just can't believe it. I really can't wrap my head around this.

Her Name is Peaches

After introducing you all to the lovely Deniz, the sweet little kitten adopted by the kahve next to our apartment a few weeks ago, she has since gone on to greener pastures to live with Jeff's colleague and our friend Lloyd.

The grey and white kitty has been renamed Peaches for no other reason than Lloyd happened to be listening to the song "Four Women" by Nina Simone when he was trying to think of a name for her.

And thus Deniz became Peaches.

We visited Lloyd and Peaches about a week ago and I got to see first-hand what a crazy little kitten she has become! She is no longer the weak and pitiful sick kitty we picked up and nursed to health in our spare bathroom. Oh no, Peaches is now a rambunctious little firecracker!

And what better way to welcome in the weekend than with a little video of Peaches photos set to, what else?, her theme song:

Her Name is Peaches from Barbara Isenberg on Vimeo.

You Know You're a Cat Lover in Turkey When...

In honor of National Cat Day, which is technically October 29 in the US, but somehow I missed it -- but who cares, right? we can celebrate cats every day of the year! -- let's look at some of the ways to identify the cat lover in your life.

You know you're a cat lover in Turkey when...

You choose a different table than the one at which you want to sit at a restaurant because you see a sleeping kitty on one of the chairs.

You choose your entree at a restaurant based on how much of it you can give to the street cats circling your table.

No matter what you end up ordering, half of it goes to the street cats anyway.

You stop to love up any friendly kitties you meet on the street.

  

You promise to purchase all of your books at a specific shop simply because they're nice to cats and let them sleep on the books. You also do the same thing with coffee shops, restaurants, bars, hair salons, any place really.

 

You take pictures of random cats sleeping in parks, hanging out in trees or doing anything cute.

You have a habit of picking up wounded, sick or otherwise hurt animals on the street and taking them to vets to get better. This particular kitty was rehabilitated in our bathroom and then went on to a new home!

There is never any place for you to sit in your own home because the cats got to all the good seats first.

After having brought two street cats of your own into Turkey, you pick up two more on the street and bring them home forever.

Kitty Success Story

Two doors down from the pharmacy that is in the ground floor of our apartment building is a kahve (a men's coffee house). Not to be confused with a cafe, which is a European import where both men and women can partake of tea and coffee, a kahve is a place for retired men -- most of whom are the ripe old age of 52 (god, to be retired in Turkey!) -- to while away the daylight hours with tea, smoking and gambling.

The kahves here in Izmir, like a lot of things, I am discovering, are different than the ones in Eastern Anatolia or even Istanbul. For one thing, a woman can sit a spell with a cup of tea.

For another, this kahve adopted a baby kitten.

About a week ago, while walking by during my errands, I noticed an itty bitty grey and white kitten scampering about in front of the kahve, chasing her tail and attacking fallen leaves. I picked her up and told her what a sweet little kitty she was, then went about my business, not really expecting to see her again.

But every day for about a week, she was there. Kemal Amca ("Uncle" Kemal), the owner of the kahve, took the kitten to the vet to clean her eyes up a bit and started giving her milk. The rough and tumble customers, who sit for hours swearing up a storm when their favorite horse loses a race, took a liking to the kitten too.

Though they obviously don't know anything about cats -- I had to tell one guy that cats really don't like it when you pick them up by their bellies and dangle them -- they seemed to sincerely care for her. When I started giving the kitten food in the morning, the chased away other cats who wanted to join in. A bit misguided, yes, but at least their hearts were in the right place. Sort of.

The guys even named the kitten Deniz.

And so, as it happens with street kitties, Deniz was sick when I went to see her one morning. I knew from previous experience with kittens that if you don't get to them early enough, they will die from something as simple as a cold (of course, it is usually compounded with parasites), so I took her post haste to the vet.

And then I took her home. But not like that!!! Deniz stayed in our extra bathroom (isn't that a hilarious thing to say? I have three bathrooms, so I can use one to rehabilitate sick kitties!) for a few days while we let daily antibiotic and vitamin C injections and parasite meds do their work on her. After just a couple of days, Deniz was a perfectly healthy kitten.

Thankfully, this story has a happy ending, one that does NOT involve Deniz staying with us. As much as I fell in love with her during her stay here -- seriously, how can you not fall in love with a kitten who sleeps curled in your arm under the covers? -- four cats is my limit, which I found out when we brought Frankie, the fourth, home last summer. No more cats for me. (And no dogs either!)

On Tuesday night, one of Jeff's colleagues and friends, a man who has said on many occasions that "cats are meant to be spoiled", took little Deniz home to a life of luxury and wet food.

It was bittersweet, of course, seeing Deniz go, but man, there is almost nothing like the feeling of seeing a little kitty get better and go on to what you just know will be a sweet life.

He's thinking of renaming her Peaches.

Cats on a plane

So have you ever tried travelling with pets? I don't mean the kind of travel where you put your golden retriever in the backseat and drive for 15 minutes to the park for a picnic. No, I mean the kind of travel where you have to take four cats on an airplane. In Turkey. That kind of travel.

We prepped for the 45-minute flight from Istanbul to Izmir last week as much as we could. We planned the flight for a Monday at 6pm, thereby avoiding the weekend travellers returning to Istanbul after a summer jaunt to Izmir. We also got our vet Sarper to give them all minor sedatives, not to make them asleep, but just to keep them chill during the ride.

It didn't work.

A wonderful friend of ours (Hi, Chole!) generously offered to accompany us to the airport, so we three, plus four cats, piled into a taxi that was called for us by our vet. When our vet called for the taxi, he did tell the driver that we had four cats. And yes, he agreed to pick us up. Nonetheless....

When the taxi driver arrived, he turned towards our vet and said, "What is this? 10 cats? This is a zoo!"

I pretended not to understand and kept loading cats in the taxi. The driver, having already said yes, reluctantly got back in the car. Jeff sat in the front with Lou on his lap, Chole and I in the back with Andy and Phoenix on our laps, and Frankie in between us.

Have you ever heard the wail of a cat in heat? Or the scream of a cat when it's fighting or defending its territory? Well, the sound Phoenix made was not quite that kind. It's the kind of scream that sounds like a broken record that keeps repeating itself, over and over and over, with no change in pitch or tone, the kind of scream that makes you want to rip your hair out and jump out of a taxi moving 100 kph on the freeway.

"WAHR, WAHR, WAHR, WAAAAAAAAHR."

On and on he cried, no matter what we did he just wouldn't stop. We turned on the radio (Phoenix likes music), we talked to him, we stopped talking to him, we stroked his chin, we draped a towel over the cage so he couldn't see out. Nothing.

"WAHR, WAHR, WAHR, WAHR."

Of course, cats are a lot like children: when one starts to cry, they all start to cry. First it was Frankie, who let out a pitiful sympathy meow. Then Andy, who never talks, piped up and contributed his two cents. And little Lou, who couldn't see anything in the front seat, decided not to cry or meow, but to pee. All over Jeff's leg.

We eventually made it to the airport, paid the driver, who I am sure WILL NEVER EVER allow cats in his car again since we left it full of floating cat hair, and Jeff and I rushed inside with Phoenix while Chole waited with the other cats and luggage so that we could give Phoenix an "emergency" sleeping pill that our vet had given us. Just in case, he said. Just in case indeed.

Standing in the nursing room at the Ataturk Airport, wrangling a screaming cat, whose hair was flying off of him in chunks because of the stress, yelling at Jeff to hold Phoenix's mouth open so I could shove the tiny pill down his throat with my finger, all the while hoping to god no one would come in and see us with a CAT in their baby changing area, I decided then and there that I would never EVER travel with my cats again. I will just have to buy this apartment that we have just moved into.

So, after dealing with a clueless Turkish Airlines employee, who didn't seem to have any idea of the airline's pet policy, nor how to find out what it was, we got all the cats and us loaded onto the plane. We dropped off Phoenix -- still crying, by the way, because the damn sedative didn't work -- Andy and Frankie to be taken on as special cargo and hand-carried Lou onto the plane with us.

We had to take a bus to the plane, the irony of all ironies, I always think, the idea that we have to take a bus to the plane. In the middle of the tarmac, which was completely open and free and clear of any other vehicles, planes, buses or other detritus, our bus hit a security vehicle. It ran right smack dab into the front of the police car, and though I tried mightily to hold onto the metal pole, my laptop and camera, both slung over my left shoulder, pulled me backwards firmly onto my bottom. Lou, however, remained thankfully unharmed. As did Jeff.

Once on the plane, with Lou sitting quietly under the seat in front of Jeff, I began to worry about my little babies under the plane, my lovely Andy, my sweet Phoenix, even my bad boy Frankie. I worried about them under there. Would the Turks be nice to my little babies? Would they say nice things to them? They wouldn't shove them under the luggage, would they?

Suddenly, the pilot announced something in Turkish over the loudspeaker, but the only word I could make out was yolculuk, or passenger. When he repeated himself in English, he said that our take off would be delayed for about 20 minutes because of a "passenger baggage problem."

Passenger baggage problem?! I turned to Jeff. Do you think the passenger baggage problem is OUR CATS?! WHAT ARE THEY DOING DOWN THERE? I craned my neck past Jeff to see if our cats were being loaded onto the plane. I somewhat expected to see a bunch of burly Turks scratching their heads in confusion as Andy, Phoenix and Frankie sat on the tarmac.

Once the airplane took off, I felt a bit better. At that point, there was nothing I could do about the cats, and in a strange way, I felt relaxed, I think because I had been absolved of any responsibility regarding my cats' welfare. At least for the time being. The cats got off the plane just fine, although they smelled absolutely horrible. We got them to a vet, where we boarded them overnight, and spent the night in a hotel along the highway that seriously reminded me of The Shining. Ever see that move? With the hotel with the long, dark hallways? Yup, that's the one. This hotel was really weird, full of long, dark corridors and musty rooms. We learned later that the hotel is mainly used for prostitution and the mafia. So, yeah, I wouldn't recommend it.

In the end, all turned out well: the cats are healthy and fine, they love their new apartment, especially the long hallway where they can chase shiny treasures.

But now, when we see someone carrying one cat, Jeff and I turn to each other and say, Pshwah. If she really wanted to do it right, she'd have 4 cats like us ... or at least one in each hand.

On the road again

Ever since Jeff and I adopted Lou and Andy, our two American cats, from my parents' house a little over three years ago, they have come with us everywhere. We picked them up in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania and drove them to our little rowhouse in South Philly.

Weren't they tiny?

They only lived there with us a few months, though, before we moved to Wichita. Of course, we took them with us.

A year later, we left Wichita for Istanbul and, again, our two little babies came with us.

Along the way, we picked up Phoenix....

And Frankie....

We knew all the while that all of our cats would always go with us wherever we went.

And, so, all four of them will be moving with us to Izmir.

Street cats sleeping

There is something so delightful about coming upon a sleeping kitty....

 

 

Of course, what could be better than one sleeping kitty but more than one sleeping kitty?

 

 

 

Have a happy day!

Adopt-A-Cat

Aren't these cats just precious? Don't you just want to pet them and hug them and love them all up? Don't you want to hear them purring in your ear?

Well, guess what? You can! These are three lovely kitties in the window at our vet, and all are looking for good homes. They're free, of course. All you have to do is provide the loving and the kitty litter and they're yours for the taking.

You can see them at the Vet Center on Siraselviler Cad Bakrac Sokak No. 24. Coming from Taksim on Siraselviler Caddesi turn left when you get to the Savoy Fish Restaurant. The vet center will be on your left. Or call Sarper, our vet, at 0212 244 7297.