Early Years
Click on Cinco's Picture For the Doggerel Inspired by this Golden TaLe
My name is Cinco. I am Older than the Hills.
I am told that I am called “Cinco” because I am the fifth Golden Retriever my Golden Friends have rescued in their Golden Years. I am also told that I am called “Cinco” because I retired to Scenic Harbor Condominiums on the fifth day of the fifth month of the Gregorian calendar.
I understand why the fifth digit is appropriate as my new appellation. However, try as I may, I cannot comprehend this name "Cinco."
I am from Istanbul, which is in the Republic of Turkey. The majority of my Long Life has been spent on the Streets of Istanbul and its surrounding Forests. Nevertheless, my name is not “Beş,” the Turkish word for “five.”
It is “Cinco.”
My new home is in the city of San Diego, which is in the United States of America. My Golden Friends, who so generously provide me with Safe Shelter and Quite Delicious Kibble, speak the language, English. Nevertheless, my name is not the English word for “five,” nor is it the English word for the fifth month of the Gregorian calendar, “May.”
It is “Cinco.”
I suspected that I am called “Cinco” due to some connection between my Beloved Human and the country of Mexico, which is very close to San Diego. In Mexico, as in Spain, “cinco” is the word for “five.”
I thought that I had received confirmation for this hypothesis when my Friend, the Golden Retriever Anthony, who has spent much of his life at an Orthodox Christian orphanage in Tijuana, Mexico, described to me the Impressive Holiday, Cinco de Mayo, with its yearly parades dedicated to a Very Brave General.
However, when the festival of Cinco de Mayo recently passed, my Beloved Human did not travel to Mexico to attend a parade. Instead, he hosted a poker game and shared some spirits with a few of his Very Good Friends. Their late night conversation was quite interesting, but I heard no mention of Famous Mexican Generals.
Indeed, despite my best vigilance, I have yet to see my Beloved Human speak Spanish, display an interest in Mexican military history, or visit the country that is so close to our border.
Nevertheless, my name is “Cinco.”
I am baffled by this name, “Cinco.”
Xianning, my Friend Down the Hall calls me "Our Girl." I did not realize at first that she understood how apt a nickname it was for me.
You see, my name has not always been Cinco. At one time, it was "Kizim" which in Turkish, my native human tongue, means "Daughter" or "Girl."
As I have said, I lived my Early Years in the city of Istanbul, in the country of Turkey. There, I honed my survival skills when I was abandoned, first on the Streets of and then in Forests surrounding Istanbul.
While discarding a Domestic Dog upon the street, as was done to me, is a terrible act of Cruelty and Betrayal, not all parts of Istanbul view stray animals as unwanted nuisances. And, unlike in the United States, where a beast who dares to venture forth without a human is rapidly recaptured, returned, re-homed or sent to its final rest, Turkey has a tradition of Communal Care for the Creatures on its streets.
Consequently, to be a Domestic Dog abandoned to the Vicissitudes of Life on the Streets of Istanbul, while not an Easy Existence, is not the Dire Situation it would be in a culture in which the Human Pack did not share such a joint ethic of responsibility. Street Dogs in Turkey belong to everyone and no one.
Moreover, while there are some areas of Istanbul where the Canine Kind is considered unclean, Locals and Tourists alike are Very, Very Kind to us. They provide us with Pats and Small Bites of Food, leave their Scraps beside garbage receptacles and dumpsters, drop Bread beneath the café tables, and place Communal Food and Water Bowls about. They even open their shops and homes to us in extreme weather.
But, Istanbul has many Forests woven throughout and around the city. And, alas, Bureaucrats who do not understand the needs of Dogs decide from time to time that the Street Dogs of Istanbul would be better off in these “Wildlife Preserves”. Unfortunately, such Forests become our Death Traps.
A Forest is a Very Difficult Place. There are Big Cats and Wild Dogs, Porcupines and Vipers. One must know how to Beware – to Hide, to Hunt, to Fight, to Fly. Not many Domestic or Street Dogs have those Skills, or the ability to acquire them with the necessary rapidity in order to survive.
When I was swept into the Government Round Up, drugged, and dumped in the Dark Forest, I was not certain I would live. Aggression is not an inherent aspect of my personality.
I had help, however, and I acquired many useful Survival Skills. For example, I am quite facile at Foraging and Finding Shelter.
Yet, if it had not been for the Kind Humans who drove to the Forest with Communal Food and Water Bowls, and who eventually brought me to live in a shelter, I would have perished.
My health was not good, even in the shelter. My teeth were so rotten from years of a diet of Street Food that I could not eat properly, and the shelter could not afford to have them repaired.
When it was learned that Southern California Golden Retriever Rescue was offering to bring dogs with my background to the United States for rehabilitation and rehoming, I was fortunate to be chosen so that I could receive surgery on my teeth and spend the remainder of my Golden Years in Quiet and Comfort. I am deeply grateful to all of the Humans but for whose Kindness I would not be here today.
The Canine Kind does not dwell on the past in the same way that the Human Kind does. For one thing, the illusion of Time is different for us. My life in Istanbul was so long ago that I may or may not have forgotten most of it.
My Friend Down the Hall, who is of the Human Kind, has a whimsical imagination, however. And although I tell her this - that my life in Istanbul was a Very, Very Long Time ago – she still insists on spinning yarns of my Early Years.
I do not mind so much. My Friend Down the Hall tells good Tales. She calls me her Best Beloved when she is storytelling.
She shared one with me on the anniversary of my arrival to the United States.
I shall share it with you. I cannot attest to its truth, but it is as good a story as any. Here is her story of Kizim:
One day the married daughter of an elderly Eastern Orthodox priest in Istanbul was squabbling with her father. As you know, priests are allowed to marry in the Orthodox religion.
“Lord give me patience,” she said in Turkish.
The old Orthodox priest answered, “Ah you wish for patience, Kizim? I assume you wish the Good Lord to send you a challenge to enable its development then? No?”
The next day the old man, who lived with his daughter and her family, brought a little Golden Retriever puppy (you) home to keep his teenage grandson and himself company, and to teach his daughter patience. He named you Kizim.
For years you would run every day through the park with the grandson. Sometimes he would stop to play soccer, and you would sit and watch.
In the afternoon you would return to the park with the elderly Orthodox priest, and the two of you would linger, enjoying the boles games.
Sometimes, like now, you wouldn't want to go home, but the teenager and elderly priest didn't mind. When one is young or old, one has the time for play and patience.
Eventually the grandson grew up and went to college, and the priest grew old and passed away. You were left with the priest's daughter, who had neither the time nor the inclination to learn patience.
When you flopped, like you do so often with me, she would say, “Next time, you stubborn dog, I will just leave you behind.”
One day you flopped one too many times, and she made good on her word.
Your world changed in an instant. You no longer had a home with easy food. It was a bit harder, but you adapted.
You became an Istanbul Street Dog, everybody's Girl and nobody's Girl. You hung out with the other Street Dogs in the park, chased squirrels and learned how to scrounge for garbage. You never had to leave the park for what you needed, which is why you know nothing about cars. And your teeth grew rotten on junk food.
Then, your world changed once again. The Ministry of Forests rounded you and your friends up and relocated you to the “Wildlife Preserves."
Life became very difficult. You were shot with a BB gun, probably while you were scavenging for food, and you had to heal from the injury and pain on your own.
You mastered survival skills - perhaps with the help of a white dog like the one in the picture that so fascinates you at the Amici Dog Park.
And, you passed those skills on to other dogs, just as you are doing with us. You were their mentor, friend, and protector.
Kind humans fed you from communal food bowls, and your world changed yet again when they saw that your teeth were too rotten for you to survive. They took you and your newest mentee, a skittish Flat-coated Retriever who would not have made it without you, to the shelter. They named you Kizim - not knowing that was once your name.
This time last year, your world shifted dramatically. You and your young friend made the long and arduous journey to the United States. Even though you suffered terribly from both fright and airsickness you kept your young friend calm and led her through the unknown.
You and your friend went your separate ways, and she missed your guidance. But you had your own worries. You were having ten teeth pulled!
You recovered at a foster home with a very fun swimming pool, though. And, then you came to live with us, and became Cinco, the Turkish Street Dog. I call you "our Girl" - even though I didn't know that you were once called "Girl" in Turkish.
And, yet again, not only did your world change, but you transformed the world you were entering forever and ever. You helped all that you met to become happier, more active, and much wiser – the same way you have always brightened the world of every young Dog and Human lucky enough to cross your path.
And, the really good part of the story is that this is not "The End." We get to live "Happily Ever After."
You, and I, and Mpaji, and your Golden Companions and everyone else who shares your love shall have a Dog's lifetime of Adventures together. And you, Best Beloved, shall touch the heart of every Human and Canine Kind you meet.
As I said, it is as good a story as any. I am honored to be a Heroine in this Tale spun by my Friend Down the Hall, and I try to live up to her vision of me. Xianning and Mpaji and I set out on each Adventure seeking ways in which we can make our Days and the Days of Others as Joyful as possible.