Anadolu Kavaği, Turkey
The tour guides were waiting at the dock. Their tails were wagging.
A couple of scruffy mutts ambled closer to the water’s edge as the Istanbul-based passenger ferry docked at Anadolu Kavaği, an Asian town near the entrance to the Black Sea. They watched the boat, we thought, waiting for a beloved human to disembark. One brushed against a woman and heeled, keeping pace with her and her companions. How cute and faithful. The other followed a second small group.
Our guide dog, it turns out, was waiting for us on the far side of the building.
The plan for the day was to climb the town’s steep, winding streets to the ruins of Yoros Castle, a fortification overlooking the Bosphorus Strait and, in the distance, the Black Sea. The town’s dogs knew the way to the top, and were happy to lead the way. They had obviously done this before.
If the dogs belonged to someone, they didn’t have collars; if they were strays, they were well-fed and clean. All had small, green tags in one ear — maybe they were community dogs.
About a half-dozen were waiting on the streets near the dock. Each one adopted a small group of people and trotted off with them.
A brown-and-black mottled shepherd mix picked us. He nuzzled my hand and playfully nipped at my fingers as I scratched his head. Yes, he thought (probably in Turkish), these are my humans for the day.
As we walked along the narrow streets, wet and puddled from a recent rain, a white-and-tan, wirehair mongrel joined us. An old car passed, its front wheel plopping into a pothole and splashing my jeans. At least it wasn’t muddy.
The dogs knew the way to the castle. They clicked up the hill with a purpose, keeping ahead but stopping every now and then to wait for us to catch up.
The wirehair disappeared in another direction at an intersection; we figured he had tired of the climb. But a few minutes later he bounded up a flight of stairs we had just walked by, another group from the ferry behind him. He stayed with us the rest of the way — the small parade they led growing to about a dozen people in four or five groups. Then a couple more dogs joined in. A black-and-white cat watched from the grass until one of the dogs chased it, either in fun or in hopes of a midday snack.
At the top of the hill where the old fortification stood, our dog dove into the grass, flipped onto his back and wiggled, pumping his paws for momentum to get a good back scratch. One of his buddies liked that idea and joined him. For a minute they were synchronized scratchers.
More people arrived, winded from the climb. More dogs arrived, panting from their work.
In the end, the dogs were satisfied. Their reward was a doze in the warm sun.
After appreciating the view and exploring the paths nearby, we headed back down to the water. No dogs accompanied us. We had to find our own way this time.