Before we begin: the friends you’ll meet here are only a handful of the neighbourhood’s dogs. I couldn’t possibly write about all of them. These are the ones Tobiko and I have spent time with almost every day since he entered my life.

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1 Turşu

Turşu — ‘Pickle’ — doesn’t get on with everyone. But this pitbull cross is so beautiful that even the grumpiness is lovely, although I’ve never been on the receiving end. Turşu loves to play and is delighted to see favourite people. A cool friend, independent even when out with the gang.

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2 Sütlaç

The neighbourhood’s funniest dog: a chunky, bow-legged girl who walks with a laborious sway. She has her favourite sleeping spots, and you can be sure they will be cool in summer and warm in winter. Out with her gang, she is always at the back. She’s cautious about being stroked and extremely protective of her food. Like her name, sütlaç (Turkish rice pudding), she is wonderfully soft and comforting. It is impossible not to smile when you see her.

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3 Mayıs

Mayıs — ‘May’ — has been beaten so often on the street that a hand reaching out to stroke them makes them recoil, fear in their eyes. But if you are one of the lucky few they trust, they’ll spot you from metres away, run towards you barking in wild delight, then throw themselves down and offer their belly. No living creature expresses longing, love and trust as clearly as they do.

If the food you give them fits in their mouth, they’ll keep it there while walking with you. If it doesn’t, they’ll bury it in a secret stash. They won’t let other dogs near their favourite people: they are very jealous. And whether it’s raining, snowing or hot, they’ll walk you all the way home. The guilt when you can’t bring them in is unbearable.

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4 Fiko

Beautiful Fiko. A hunting-dog cross, he was no more than a year old when he was abandoned on the Moda waterfront during the pandemic. Our little Fiko was so cheerful and clever that he brought happiness to everyone he approached. In the evenings, I’d take food down to the seafront and call his name. From somewhere, I would see him running joyfully towards me. Wherever he was, he came and found me.

Gradually, he had to adapt to street life. People hurt him; other dogs bullied him. He withdrew.

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He became a serious, shy dog, but remained full of love. He took female dogs and puppies arriving in his territory under his protection. When an injured dog appeared, he stayed beside it for days, until it recovered. I asked where Fiko was, and other dog owners in the neighbourhood told me the story. I admired him even more. If I could, I would never leave him on the street.

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5 Biber

The sweetest, tiniest street dog in the world. Biber — ‘Pepper’ — is afraid of people. If, with difficulty, Biber gets used to you, and you happen to offer a treat stick or a ball, you’ll see a small child’s delight: jumping and playing. The purity of that happiness cleanses your soul. One of those dogs who makes me think: if only we could live together.

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6 Sufle

Adopted! Sufle — ‘Soufflé’ — was quite ill when abandoned, but soon recovered. Unlike street siblings Sütlaç and Turşu, Sufle is a very mischievous hunting dog. Clever, really, but protective and exceptionally playful, and a little noisy. Thanks to the neighbourhood’s dog lovers, Sufle found a home.

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9 Şöhret

Adopted! For a long time, Şöhret — ‘Fame’ — was the terror of the streets. A favourite game was to follow women, nudge their bottoms with that nose and make them shriek. Not aggressive, but always chasing motorbikes, barking and doing anything to stay near favourite people. Şöhret drove beloved humans and dogs mad, leaping on them and constantly demanding attention.

After someone complained and the council tried to take Şöhret to a shelter, neighbours began taking turns bringing this character into their homes. Eventually, one became a permanent companion. Now Şöhret is very gentle and happy.

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10 Mendil

During the pandemic, Mendil — ‘Handkerchief’ — became famous for not letting people into the street, doing a better job than the watchmen. There was the jealousy too: baring teeth to protect favourite people. Quite old and overweight, Mendil is the neighbourhood’s ağır abi (the imposing senior figure everyone knows to respect). You don’t mess with this dog. When we meet, neither of us passes without saying hello.

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Bonus Tobiko

When Tobiko, or Tobi, entered my life during the pandemic, I’d spread the word: ‘I’m looking for a small dog.’ Someone I’d told said: ‘There’s a puppy. His siblings were killed on the street in Yalova. He and his mother were left at a shelter, but she was adopted straight away. He’s so small that the bigger dogs have hurt him. Could you foster him?’

How glad I am that I did, and that I decided he should stay with me for good. His severe trauma means he is frightened of people and overprotective of me. He makes my life difficult, I won’t pretend otherwise. But he makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.

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At first, I hesitated. I’d fostered before and been left with a huge vet’s bill — but also become the human of the world’s best friend. That dog’s life was cut short by cancer. When Tobi arrived, I was frightened he’d be left with me again, and felt guilty, as though I were betraying my old dog.

Although I’d had three dogs before, I’d never looked after a puppy and had no idea what awaited me. For the first three days, Tobiko was so frightened he wouldn’t eat or even wee. I did everything I could to help him trust me and relax. Then I found myself with a baby who never slept and was mischievous even when exhausted.

After 15 days, I did something I’d thought I never would. I rang the person organising it and said: ‘I don’t think I can do this. I can’t look after him. It’s beyond my capacity. I can’t sleep or work. I’m no different from a mother with a newborn.’ They told me to be patient for one more day.

That day, everything changed. As though he understood, Tobi suddenly became the most receptive, understanding dog in the world. I didn’t want him to leave. He stayed. His trauma makes him frightened of people, overprotective of me and difficult to live with, honestly. But he makes me feel like the luckiest person alive.

Through Tobi, I came to understand other dogs better — even people. Walking with him at sunset, watching the world between his two large, constantly moving ears, finding his hair everywhere, seeing how generously he shares his happiness, doing everything he can to pass it on, knowing he understands when I’m ill or unhappy: nothing else feels like it.

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I wish every dog in the world could be as spoilt as Tobiko, know they are loved and be protected by people. We humans don’t deserve dogs’ pure love. But we could at least make a little effort to become worthy of it.

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