Stray dogs

Stray dogs are a fact of everyday life here.

I ain't 'fraid of no rabies!

One of the things I love about India is how stray animals are treated—as though they have a right to exist. You don’t see nearly as many strays in the U.S. since we’re quick to put them in pounds. I think we Americans tend to associate strays with rabies and other dangers.

But here, stray dogs and cats (especially dogs) are just a fact of life. You see them everywhere. Locals don’t necessarily pet them or play with them, but they accept that the strays have a right to take up space. I think as a result, the strays become quite docile, and I pet them all the time (after making eye contact and seeing the dog’s tail wag, indicating to me that they’re open to it)(I admit I had two rabies scares, but that was just me panicking about overly playful puppies and kittens!).

I call him a sand-dog.

My friend Anu said the animal rights people are a powerful lobby, quashing efforts to kill the strays. Some localities have a policy of rounding up the dogs to spay and neuter, but then they release them on the streets where they found them. I told Anu how I’ve seen dogs sleeping on unused motorcycles or rickshaws. “Do they belong to the motorcycle and rickshaw owner?” I asked. She said, “Probably not. But the owners don’t have any problem with the dogs sleeping there when they’re not using the motorcycle or rickshaw, and the dogs know they have to leave when they’re being used.”

This is the mangy pup that will die soon.
If you look closely you can see the bugs on its face.

Compared with strays I’ve seen in Nicaragua and Guatemala, Indian dogs tend to be better fed and just cleaner, over all (note: I say “tend.” This isn’t a universal rule. I recently saw a puppy so mangy and bug-infested that a crow was hovering over the poor pup). Indians love feeding animals, and I’ve seen them put out leftover food for the local dogs. And the dogs are local. They tend to pick an area and get protective about it (I learned this the hard way when I got to Jodhpur at 4 am and sat outside a hotel waiting for the city to wake up. A dog barked at me for a full five minutes, furious at my presence at that time. It wouldn't leave until I did.).

Anu noted that dogs grow familiar with whoever lives in an area. “If you are wearing a nice sari, they know not to come too close,” she said. We were driving around an unfamiliar neighborhood late at night when suddenly we heard a dog bark nearby. Anu burst out laughing. “Dogs get very protective! That dog doesn’t recognize us, and he doesn’t think we should be driving around his neighborhood right now.”

It went into the grass as we came closer to inspect it.