Bella & Bellos:

How a dog taught me what it means to belong two thousand miles away from home

Published 27th February 2024

By Steve Goodall

This story has TLDR written all over it but if you would lend me your eyes I feel it will be worth it. To make my point, I first need to paint you a picture of a place, a people and something wonderful that I witnessed.

For those who've never been, Crete is a Greek island of rugged beauty and sensory surprises in every cove, cave, and mountain side village.

I have been travelling to Crete on and off for the last two decades and have had the privilege of discovering a sleepy village in the east of the island called Limnes. Named after the lakes that once were nearby, Limnes is peppered with simple yet beautiful homes. For every hidden gem of a family home there are, at least two dilapidated, but once loved buildings which stand like skeletons in testament to what a busy, thriving place this once was before the brighter lights of the city called the younger generations. Despite this, what is left is a village like no other, set in a spider web of Olive groves with a labyrinth of cobbled alleys adorned with hibiscus, hollyhocks, grape vines and wild tobacco. A place so full of character that I worry, I won't take it all in. It was in this wonderful place some twenty years ago, that my parents decided to buy a home.

What's this got to do with dogs you might ask? 

When I first came to Crete, I had little concept of "free roaming" dogs. It would be another 15 years before I'd begin to understand "streeties" or read more in, the wonderful books by Sindhoor Pangal, Jessica Pierce, Marc Bekoff or Clive Wynn. I would talk to authors on my podcast about ethology, domestication and how dogs have entangled themselves into our hearts, cultures and imaginations. But imagine what a culture shock it was for me, twenty years ago, to see large gangs of dogs roaming the streets, dodging traffic, scavenging whatever they could while hunting for rodents, rabbits and polecats. The relationship with humans was one of guarding, hunting or nuisance and although there were examples of dogs "owned" by people these were few and far between and, from what I could tell, training was still very much rooted in the school of hard knocks. More often than not, the dogs I witnessed were being shooed off with disproportionate, brutal means by Taverna owners who saw them as little more than pests. In those first few years it wouldn't be unheard of to see a dog lying lifeless on the side of the national road having "rolled the dice'' and lost when trying to cross.

I remember thinking, somewhat naively, why wouldn't someone stop, retrieve the bodies, and give these dogs the kind of burial they deserved? I recall feeling despair at the whole scenario. Inevitably, I would learn to appreciate the lifestyles these dogs enjoyed and would understand that although they missed out on veterinary attention, a warm lap and guaranteed feeding, they were, in many ways, living a life of autonomy, social complexity and freedom that our own dog's, perhaps, miss out on.

As the years progressed, there seemed to be fewer free roaming dogs each time I visited. Corrin and I used to love sitting in cafés watching the street dogs in a town called Neapoli, near Limnes. But these sightings were becoming less frequent, and the last visit we didn't see any. Was this was down to a neutering program? Or perhaps it hinted at something else...

I arrived in Crete this year for a short six-day holiday after not having visited for five years. During this time, there appears to have been a blossoming in the relationship between humans and dogs in this little village. That shift in mindset has led to something special happening right outside our door.

A few months ago, my family were there without me when a very skinny tan coloured dog turned up at the gate. This dog appeared to be asking for help, and once my parents popped a bowl of water down, she drank and drank until a full four bowls had been emptied. She was in a terrible condition and needed help. My mum quickly realised she was pregnant, something my dad couldn't believe because of how thin she was. They had no idea what had happened to this dog, but it's likely, due to her temperament that she had lived with people before. Had these people driven her to another village and released her when they knew she would be having puppies (something that isn't out of the ordinary from what I've been told)?

My family named her Betsy and set about getting her fed and strong. But there was one big issue looming on the horizon: soon they would be leaving Crete and they didn't know what to do with Betsy. Betsy had made a little home in one of those ruined, once loved structures I mentioned. She had a roof and some protection from the elements, but now she'd turned up in their "neck of the woods" my family felt responsible for her. Enter local good guy Demitri (or Jimmy as he's known). This wonderful man took it upon himself to care for Betsy who was renamed Bella by the locals. He arranged to have Bella seen by a vet and give her the care she needed to thrive and to produce seven (yep, seven!) bouncy pups. Demitri cared for, fed, and watered them all through those first crucial weeks and eventually set about trying to find those puppies good homes in the area.

And where do I fit into this story? Well, when I turned up, I was met by Bella and five pups (two had already been homed). The pups were between nine and ten weeks old and absolutely enthralling. But I fell in love with Bella straight away. Bella is a gentle, young (no more than two at a guess) animal who is smart, capable, and one of the sweetest dogs I've ever known. Although she was timid at first, we quickly became friends with the aid of Lidl frankfurters. She'd seek me out every day, reminding me how my mates used to knock at my house asking if "Steve was coming out to play." Because I was careful not to push my luck, in terms of her personal space, she quickly felt safe with me. Once bonded, she would push in for butt scratches (her favourite) and cuddles. She has the best "hound lean" I have ever witnessed and the most amazing eyes that radiate with brightness and trust. It was such a pleasure to earn the trust of such a wonderful soul.

The pups were a different kettle of fish altogether. Confident and bouncy, they would come bounding out of a bush each time you passed with the gusto of a stag-do spilling out of a bar onto the Magaluf streets. All teeth and mischief, they were living their best lives and becoming expert level shoelace destroyers. The people in the village had taken this podgy gang of hellraisers into their hearts and the pups were getting the most concise socialisation and habituation program I've ever seen. I was seeing this happen right before my eyes. The puppies were dealing with people, cats, other dogs, cars, and motorised scooters passing them at heart-stopping proximity and speed. Despite this, they seemed to take it all in their chubby little strides. I was fairly certain they had as good a chance of any puppy I'd seen as being bomb proof.

There were four black pups and one tan one left when I arrived. But that number dwindled to just one male within the first two days of me being in the village as Jimmy continued to find them homes. Of course, this final remaining dog was the smallest of the litter. Cue my panic... one pup left... with no littermates... I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. What was supposed to be a relaxing week away was rapidly turning into an anxiety fever dream of all the possibilities this situation could become. Although Bella was a cracking mum, she was beginning to distance herself (although not completely) from this lone chubby flurry of teeth who the people had named "Bellos."

My panic was how much time Bellos would be spending on his own. From what I'd seen, he spent a huge amount of time snoozing in his little makeshift tea towel bed but everything about me was hoping, with all my heart, that little Bellos would find a home soon. As the days went on, we fell into a routine of hanging out with the dogs. We enjoyed numerous frankfurter dates and fashioned homemade toys. We filled hours of digital data on my phone, filming interactions and met them in evenings to deliver the left-over meaty treats from our Taverna outings. My Dad deserves a special shout out for being the only meat eater happily giving up his portions for these dogs.

What this week has given me is time to reflect on how the history of the human /dog relationship and its evolution is fascinating. Even within a short amount of time, the landscape of human/dog relations has dramatically changed, in Crete, in the UK, and across the globe. 

Travelling and watching dogs living among other cultures is a truly grounding experience for a trainer. Every interaction had (or not had) between our species is a link in a chain of domestication that is still being forged before our eyes. On one hand, we hold the knowledge that, when given choice and agency, these dogs rarely display what we would term behaviour problems. But we also have studies showing companion dogs in westernised cultures displaying more "problematic" behaviours, such as aggressive responses, destructive tendencies, guarding, and separation issues. We dog lovers also have the privilege of being able to mine a rich and plentiful vein of knowledge, research, and science. The free ranging dogs in the Cretan villages I have encountered, while being free to come and go, had clear, strong bonds with certain people. With Bella and Bellos, there isn't the strong perception within the village of anyone "owning" them. What there is in its place is a palpable sense of belonging for the dogs. Those beautiful humans belong with these wonderful dogs as much as the dogs belong with these people. To belong is not to be owned, and a simple change of language (albeit like a tugboat manoeuvring an ocean liner) could potentially, change our culture for the better. This age-old dance of free roaming and belonging is nearly impossible to return to in our westernised cultures. Perhaps this could be counted as one of the saddest losses if we were to sit down and count them. In its place, however, is a relationship full of compassion, respect, safety, kindness, and love.

But what happens to a dog when their life changes from free roaming to one of restraint. I listened to an interview recently with Marco Adda, who has studied the street dogs of Bali for many years. His work indicates that restriction without outlets could be the cause of much dog behavioural fall out. It makes sense, doesn't it? How many dogs are out there living with well-meaning families who don't understand why their companion is frustrated? Or reactive, destructive, and unable to be left for eight-hour stints in one go? It's not as if this is new news- how long ago were the five freedoms created? But it is something we need to get better at acting upon, as dog guardians and as canine professionals. Freedom from restraint and the freedom to be able to express ourselves is something so valuable to humans we will literally go to war for it. If freedom means that much to us, then it stands to reason that it MUST represent something as important to non-human animals as well.

If I'm being honest, I would have taken Bella and Bellos home in a heartbeat. The thought even crossed my mind to "rescue" Bella once Bellos found a home. If I lived in Limnes, I would have opened my heart and door to them both, hoping they would choose to be with me. But not only is that not possible, it doesn’t take into account what Bella and Bellos would want if they could ask for it. Or even what they really need.

One bright morning on my last day, Bella followed me a good half a mile down to the Olive groves to where I had parked my car. This was the furthest I'd seen her venture out of the village. My heart was in my mouth. Not only was I worried that my presence and our flourishing bond was leading her to take more risks, but she was also getting closer to the national road with every step. I thought about shooing her away back to the safety of the village, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. But then something wonderful happened. Her nose lifted high as her ears pitched forward. Her beautiful, dancing eyes pinpointed a direction way off in the leafy groves, and she took off.

Watching this animal leaping through the undergrowth, muscles flexing in the Cretan sun, chasing god knows what, I had a crystal clear realisation.

This perfect animal is exactly where she needs to be. Whatever happens, however this turns out, she needs to be right here where she belongs, and belonging is a wonderful place to be. That powerful thought spread like synapses firing across my mind as I stood smiling in the dust cloud Bella had left. That was the last time I saw her.

I've spent many months trying to reconcile my thoughts on this. I started writing this on the plane home as I knew there was something I wanted to say. It would be months later that I felt I’d expressed the emotions of that time well enough to release it out into the ether. There is a real possibility I won’t ever know how Bella’s and Bellos’ stories end. But I've smiled a lot reliving the memories in my head.

Whatever happens, I'm glad I got to be a brief part of their lives.