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dervish houses are closed； coffeehouses ought to be banned。 Do the poor have
enough money to drink coffee？ Men frequent these places； bee besotted
with coffee and lose control of their mental faculties to the point that they
actually listen to and believe what dogs and mongrels have to say。 But those
who curse me and our religion； it is they who are the true mongrels。”
With your permission； I’d like to respond to this last ment by the
esteemed cleric。 Of course； it is mon knowledge that hajis； hojas； clerics；
and preachers despise us dogs。 In my opinion； the whole matter concerns our
revered Prophet Muhammad； peace and blessings be upon him； who cut off a
piece of his robe upon which a cat lay sleeping rather than wake the beast。 By
pointing out this affection shown to the cat； which has incidentally been
denied to us dogs； and due to our eternal feud with this feline beast； which
even the stupidest of men recognizes as an ingrate； people have tried to
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intimate that the Prophet himself disliked dogs。 They’re convinced that we’ll
defile those who have performed ritual ablutions； and the result of this
erroneous and slanderous belief is that we’ve been barred from mosques for
centuries and have suffered beatings in their courtyards from broomstick…
wielding caretakers。
Allow me to remind you of “The Cave；” the most beautiful of the Koran’s
chapters。 I’m reminding you not because I suspect there may be those who
never read the Koran among us in this good coffeehouse； but because I want
to refresh your memories： This chapter recounts the story of the seven youths
who grow tired of living among pagans and take refuge in a cave where they
enter a deep sleep。 Allah then seals their ears and causes them to doze off for
exactly three hundred and nine years。 When they awake； they learn just how
many years have passed only after one of them enters the society of men and
tries to spend an outdated silver coin。 All of them are stunned to learn what
has happened。 This chapter subtly describes man’s attachment to Allah； His
miracles； the transitory nature of time and the pleasure of deep sleep； and
though it’s not my place； allow me to remind you of the eighteenth verse；
which makes mention of a dog resting at the mouth of this cave where the
seven youths have fallen asleep。 Obviously； anyone would be proud to appear
in the Koran。 As a dog； I take pride in this chapter； and through it I intend to
bring the Erzurumis； who refer to their enemies as dirty mongrels； to their
senses。
So then； what’s the actual reason for this animosity toward dogs？ Why do
you persist in saying that dogs are impure； and cleaning and purifying your
homes from top to bottom if a dog happens to enter？ Why do you believe that
those who touch us spoil their ablutions？ If your caftan brushes against our
damp fur； why do you insist on washing that caftan seven times like a frenzied
woman？ Only tinsmiths could be responsible for the slander that a pot licked
by a dog must be thrown away or retinned。 Or perhaps； yes； cats…
When people left their villages for the sedentary life of the city； shepherd
dogs remained in the provinces； that’s when rumors of the filthiness of dogs
like me began to spread。 Yet before the advent of Islam； two of the twelve
months of the year were “months of the dog。” Now； however； a dog is
considered a bad omen。 I don’t want to burden you with my own problems；
my dear friends who have e to hear a story and ponder its moral—to be
honest； my anger arises out of the esteemed cleric’s attacks upon our
coffeehouses。
15
What would you think if I said that this Husret of Erzurum was of dubious
birth？ But they’ve also said of me； “What kind of dog do you think you are？
You’re attacking the venerable cleric because your master is a picture…hanging
storyteller who tells tales at a coffeehouse and you want to protect him。 Go
on； scat！” God forbid； I’m not denigrating anyone。 But I’m a great admirer of
our coffeehouses。 You know； I have no problem with the fact that my portrait
was drawn on such cheap paper or that I’m a four…legged beast； but I do regret
that I can’t sit down like a man and have a cup of coffee with you。 We’d die
for our coffee and our coffeehouses—what’s this？ See； my master is pouring
coffee for me from a small coffeepot。 A picture can’t drink coffee； you say？
Please！ See for yourselves； this dog is happily lapping away。
Ah； yes； that hit the spot； it’s warmed me up； sharpened my sight and
quickened my thoughts。 Now listen to what I have to tell you： Besides bolts of
Chinese silks and Chinese pottery adorned with blue flowers； what did the
Veian Doge send to Nurhayat Sultan； the esteemed daughter of our
respected Sultan？ A soft and cuddly Veian she…dog with a coat of silk and
sable。 I heard that this bitch is so spoiled she has a red silk dress as well。 One of
our friends actually fucked her； that’s how I know； and she can’t even engage
in the act without her dress。 In that Frankish land of hers； all dogs wear outfits
like that anyway。 I’ve heard tell that over there a so…called elegant and well…
bred Veian woman saw a naked dog—or maybe she saw its thing； I’m not
sure—anyway； she screamed； “My dear God； the dog is naked！” and fainted
dead away。
In the lands of the infidel Franks； the so…called Europeans； every dog has an
owner。 These poor animals are paraded on the streets with chains around their
necks； they’re fettered like the most miserable of slaves and dragged around in
isolation。 These Franks force the poor beasts into their homes and even into
their beds。 Dogs aren’t permitted to walk with one another； let alone sniff and
frolic together。 In that despicable state； in chains； they can do nothing but gaze
forlornly at each other from a distance when they pass on the street。 Dogs who
roam the streets of Istanbul freely in packs and munities； the way we do；
dogs who threaten people if necessary； who can curl up in a warm corner or
stretch out in the shade and sleep peacefully； and who can shit wherever they
want and bite whomever they want； such dogs are beyond the infidels’
conception。 It’s not that I haven’t thought that this might be why the
followers of the Erzurumi oppose praying for dogs and feeding them meat on
the streets of Istanbul in exchange for divine favors and even why they oppose
the establishment of charities that perform such services。 If they intend both
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to treat us as enemies and make infidels of us； let me remind them that being
an enemy to dogs and being an infidel are one and the same。 At the； I hope；
not too distant executions of these disgraceful men； I pray our executioner
friends invite us to take a bite； as they sometimes do to set a deterring
example。
Before I finish； let me say this： My previous master was a very just man。
When we set out at night to thieve； we’d cooperate： I’d begin to bark； and
he’d cut the throat of our victim whose screams would be drowned out by my
barking。 In return for my help； he’d cut up the guilty men that he’d punished；
boil them and feed them to me。 I don’t like raw meat。 God willing； the would…
be executioner of that cleric from Erzurum will take this into account so I
won’t upset my stomach with that scoundrel’s raw flesh。
17
I WILL BE CALLED A MURDERER
Nay； I wouldn’t have believed I could take anyone’s life； even if I’d been told
so moments before I murdered that fool； and thus； my offense at times recedes
from me like a foreign galleon disappearing on the horizon。 Now and again； I
even feel as if I haven’t mitted any crime at all。 Four days have passed
since I was forced to do away with hapless Elegant； who was a brother to me；
and only now have I； to some extent； accepted my situation。
I would’ve preferred to resolve this unexpected and awful dilemma without
having to do away with anybody； but I knew there was no other choice。 I
handled the matter then and there； assuming the burden of responsibility。 I
couldn’t let the false accusations of one foolhardy man endanger the entire
society of miniaturists。
Nevertheless； being a murderer takes some getting used to。 I can’t stand
being at home； so I head out to the street。 I can’t stand my street； so I walk on
to another； and then another。 As I stare at people’s faces； I realize that many of
them believe they’re innocent because they haven’t yet had the opportunity to
snuff out a life。 It’s hard to believe that most men are more moral or better
than me simply on account of some minor twist of fate。 At most； they wear
somewhat stupider expressions because they haven’t yet killed； and like all