When I heard that my parents had visited a farm in France and adopted a dog, I had no idea what kind of dog we would encounter. The first time I saw the dog; I was absolutely amazed. A wonderful, sweet, energetic dog with a positive energy welcomed us. It was love at first sight. I remember her not leaving my lap the day we first met.
As Betsy grew (and she didn’t grow very much, as she’s a small dog), her sweetness never faded, and her personality became established. It was also during this time that I learned that there are special breeding farms in France for these Coton de Tuléar dogs. The Coton de Tuléar is a small dog breed named after the city of Tuléar in Madagascar.
The most distinctive feature of this breed is its long coat. There are white ones, and there are also varieties like my father’s, which come in light brown and white. Speaking of beauty in their coats, they told me that when they had their coats shaved in the summer to give the animal a break, a middle-aged French woman who knew Coton de Tuléar came up to my father while walking in Paris and complained, “What’s the state of this animal? Why did you shave it like that? The beauty of this animal is in its coat. Isn’t it a shame?” Indeed, the animal lost some of its beauty when its coat was shaved. But those beautiful eyes, those eyes! Betsy’s most beautiful thing was her eyes. I’ll never forget those eyes, filled with emotion and positive energy. She was also a good-natured animal who didn’t bark much and didn’t bother anyone.
A wonderful way to take a break from work.
She was very affectionate with everyone, but when I came, her displays of joy reached their peak. Betsy’s signature moves—spinning around in circles, her diminutive jumps, and licking me all over—were classic Betsy. She constantly radiated positive energy. I’d pick her up and pet her every chance I got.
Betsy and I had a special bond. When she worked at the family business, she’d always pop into my office first. Yes, you heard that right, even though she was my father’s dog, she’d find my room, which was a bit farther out, and come straight to me. When she arrived in my room, she’d still do those classic displays of joy. Even if I were talking about something serious on the phone, I’d reflexively ask, “Can I call you later?” and pick Betsy up and give her a big pat on the back. Having Betsy come to the office was a wonderful way to take a break from work.
Easily put, she’d been in our lives since 2006. Lately, Betsy’s illnesses had worsened, and she had lost her appetite. She wasn’t as active as she used to be. Her body had flattened, and she had settled closer to the ground. Her vision was poor. She recognized us by our voices. She didn’t have the same energy or enthusiasm she used to, but I could always see the light in her blind eyes.
Our Dogs’ Heartbreaking Farewell
I was devastated when I learned she had cancer and that she had only a few days left. Last Sunday, when I visited my parents, I immediately went to Betsy. Betsy, who had been lying there all day, first raised her head and looked at me when she heard my voice, then got up and snuggled closer to me. My mother’s dog, Carino, had done the same thing when she was on her deathbed. Two days later, we lost Carino. It was like saying goodbye. Remembering this brought tears to my eyes.
Taking my mother’s dog, Carino, to the vet…
Afterward, I picked Betsy up from the kitchen floorboards where she had been lying all day to cool off and placed her next to the living room chair. I petted her constantly. I also opened the window to give her some fresh air.
She was having difficulty breathing. Her lungs wheezed with every breath. She was happy next to me. I could feel it. When it was finally time to leave, I took one last picture. Knowing she had only a few days left, I wanted to have one last shot. You can see that picture below:
Her condition was deeply saddening for all of us. I left my parents with tears in my eyes. Two days later, I received the news of her death. She passed away around 9 a.m. Tuesday. They had started a new round of chemotherapy and even passed tumors in his stool the morning of her death. Although there were signs of improvement, my family believes his heart couldn’t withstand the new treatment. Our Betsy was a shining light. My parents buried their dog in their garden. Because he was a special dog, they wanted to keep him as close as possible. May she rest in peace, our dear Betsy.
You may have heard, but I adopted a dog for the first time in my life. Before, I had always believed that “the best cat or dog is the cat or dog of my mother, father, and friends,” and I had always been interested in loving animals without ever looking at them.
One of Zeina’s 7 wonders
Zeina, the watchdog at the wind farm in the Kandıra district of Kocaeli, gave birth to seven dogs at once. We don’t know the fathers of these dogs, all of whom are different from each other. We call them “fathers” because female dogs can become pregnant by multiple dogs at the same time. We adopted all the dogs; we kept one at the wind farm site, and I adopted the other. I named the dog we kept at the wind farm Windy, and the dog I adopted Sunny. After all, the names “sunny” and “windy” represent the industries I’m passionate about.
Sunny’s mother, Zeina, and her sister
I’ll share my experiences with Sunny in the future. At this point, I’d just like to say this: As the person who personally cared for Sunny, I can say that my respect for dog owners has grown exponentially. Raising a dog is truly like having a 2- or 3-year-old child constantly. Eating, drinking, defecating, going outside… After caring for Sunny for months, I’ve come to believe that pet owners should have certain privileges.
I’ll save all these thoughts and advice for another blog post. For now, I’d like to end this post with these words:
Goodbye, everyone’s beloved Betsy, and welcome to my life, my fun boy Sunny!
Tag: memoir
