The dogs of Yeniköy occupy a special place in my heart. They go a little bit mental around sundown. The call to prayer can get them going. A passing motorcycle. A hapless homeless man with whom they aren’t familiar. They probably look for just about any excuse to let off a little steam during the gloaming hour. Our evening is a lot like their morning. They sit across from Molka Cafe in the park, sniffing each other’s parts until one nudges another. One mutt probably says to another, “You looking at me?” And the other responds, “No I was looking at your mama, bitch!” And then, the next thing you know, there’s a good old fashioned tussle in the grass. Teeth are bared. Legs are pulled. Eventually five or six have entered the fray. Blades of grass start flying in the air. Girls on top of the boys, the boys on top of girls. But no one gets hurt. It’s simply canine calisthenics. Then, just as abruptly as it started, it ends. Everyone loves everyone again.
I just wonder: how is it that the dogs can have a better sense of humour than most humans?