Today was a beautiful day for love at
first sight, and then heartbreak.
I took a local shuttle bus, a “dolmuş”
in Turkish, to The Cave of Zeus, (one of three hereabouts) named for
the legend that young
Zeus, being a mischievous godling, would antagonize his brother
Poseidon, then hide out in a cave until the storm blew over, so to
speak.
The cave was filled with lucid water
tinted blue with minerals, and cold enough to require a little
pep-talk before I jumped in. Bracing. Do I have super powers now?
But if the cave belongs to Zeus, then
the path leading to it belongs to Cupid.
I could hear her cries from a fair
distance away, and it took a minute to find her. She stood, unsteady,
plainly in need of assistance and love.
And probably some milk.
And probably some milk.
I don't know where her mother was, but
this kitten was far too cute to be left alone, so I volunteered for a
few minutes. Then a second shift. After a pep-talk longer than the
one required to dive into freezing water, I managed to put her down
and walk away.
But then she would immediately chase
after me, mewling desperately, fuzzy kitten paws clumsy as she
romped-ran after me. Still no sign of cat or human to take care of
the little thing, and the sound of a kitten's purr is surprisingly
effective at manipulating full-grown human males. (And no it's not
just me; one of the things I love about Turkey is that the men, so
brusque, stern, and mustachioed, clearly have a nationwide soft spot
for felines.)
Tourists of various nationalities
passed me on their way to the cave, inevitably pausing to coo at the
wee fuzzball. And time after time, as they returned to their cars
after seeing Zeus's cave, there I was, still unable to walk away from
this kitten.
Ruthless cuteness.
More of the cute kitten pictures on the wordpress version |
But I finally had to go, after
seriously considering bringing her back to the hostel as their new
mascot. Walking away from her plaintive cries was awful!
Luckily the rest of the day was a walk
along a winding road through Dilek Yarimadasi National Park, where
new (to me) Black Keys, Elbow, and Macklemore songs had me feeling
fine. My shirt went in the bag and the politely earnest Turkish sun
warmed my shoulders and the pavement with equal magnanimity.
I took a swim in the surprisingly cold
Aegean Sea, pointed Odysseus towards Ionia, and sat down to a cold
soda and some sudoku, the sun drying my back. Not too shabby.
Behind me a foursome of pensioner
Australians made of leather and goodnatured sass were being
themselves, and I noticed when their chortling turned to alarm. I
looked up to see the cafe's adorable dog, a white retriever of muddy
forepaws and drippy smiles, being attacked and chased by two
absolutely massive wild pigs, while I third looked on with porcine
belligerence.
Luckily the hound was fast enough, and
the pigs went along their way without tangible mayhem. The Aussies
and I looked at each other, curious if the other could name that
feeling. I went with “You don't see that every day” and went back
to my sudoku.
It was about a 7 kilometer walk back to
the entrance, where I hoped to find another dolmuş
back to Kuşadasi. I paid my dirham and started up the road, and was
joined by the retriever, who followed a pace behind me in the proper
regional dynamic. Once we were out of sight of the cafe her/his
boisterous nature prevailed and off s/he went, sniffing stuff, peeing
on it, and looking for more.
For
the second time that day I was in love, and named my companion
Horace.
But
I was running on two consecutive days of well-above-average sun
exposure, and my skin felt like pancakes ready to leave the grill, so
when a car passed, I stuck out a thumb. It sped by, and Horace and I
continued on, only to see it reversing back around the turn to get
me.
The
young Turkish couple seemed willing to take both me and my dog, but I
managed to sign-language that Horace was not actually mine. So for
the second time that day I had to move away from an animal love,
innocent and pure, explanations impossible.
Today was a beautiful day for love at
first sight, and then heartbreak, twice.
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