Delhi's dog dilemma: Between love, fear and a need for solution

My first memory of dealing with a stray dog goes back decades—but it’s etched fresh and vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I was walking home from school in my hometown in Kerala and I saw a sorry-looking, brown coloured puppy, maybe less than two months old, near a paddy field. The puppy saw me too. We locked eyes and a connection was forged. The speechless conversation was underlined by the usual dialogue that takes place between a victim and a saviour, but who can say who is the victim and who is the saviour—at least in this case? I took the puppy home. I was 14 then, but picking up puppies from the streets and taking them home continued even after I moved from Kerala to Delhi.

DELHI WITHOUT DOGS?
It is difficult for me to visualise the streets of Delhi without its stray dogs and cows. This situation is not new, nor is the strife over it. Ever since dogs and cows took over our streets, some complained about it, most tolerated them and a few loved them. It’s the lovers and haters who are of concern here. Like the territorial fights among dog packs to decide who is the alpha, the lovers and the haters of strays have been nipping at each other from time to time. If you have lived in a metro city in India, you are likely to have come across these conflicts, or have been at one end of the spectrum at some point.

To me, there’s more animosity between these two groups of people than between dogs and people. In “The Dog of Tithwal”, a story written by Saadat Hasan Manto, a stray wanders across the no-man’s land between India and Pakistan. The dog wants nothing other than food and affection, but each side quickly begins to suspect him. If he trots toward Indians, Pakistanis call him a traitor; if he ambles toward Pakistanis, Indians brand him a spy. In the end, this innocent creature is shot. Delhi’s stray dogs might often feel like Manto’s mutt: caught between those who love and feed them and those who fear and despise them.

MAN’S BEST FRIEND?
Scientists are still unsure of how the friendship between dogs and humans was forged. Thousands of years ago, wolves started hanging around human settlements in the forest and fed on the leftovers. A symbiotic relationship soon formed and dogs originated. Now dogs guard our property, protect their masters, assist in various forms of jobs and occasionally chase and bite humans and other animals.

Most importantly, dogs are believed to love people, unconditionally—a belief that is up for debate.

The unconditional love of a dog can be questionable. They do have a motive, after all: they want food, protection and love from their human counterparts. In return, dogs give company and affection. It’s a two-way street.

Like humans, dogs are also tribal and territorial. In places like Delhi, where hundreds of homeless people survive on the roadside and under flyovers, it was not difficult for stray dogs to find space, food and territories. When housing societies mushroomed in Delhi, strays found their space and their supporters there. The strays often stayed with the security guards in housing colonies and barked at intruders at night—giving the dogs a sense of purpose and the human a sigh of relief.

However, not all stray dogs play nice. Some of them, probably the ones who had a traumatic experience with humans, could never heal that trauma and became suspicious and sometimes aggressive. Every therapist knows that past trauma can significantly impact the present. This is true for dogs too.

Their experiences shape their behaviour: so some will be nice, some not so much; some wise and some, otherwise.

ARE WE THE PROBLEM?
The stray dogs issue that Delhi or any other metro faces is complex. There is no doubt that stray dogs cannot be allowed to become a threat to the public—biting, chasing and threatening people. I may be an exception because in my 26 years of living in Delhi, when I walked alone in a dark narrow street at night, stray dogs were the least of my worries.

The first thing we need to realise is that we created this crisis—much like all other crises that we face now, from climate change to urban flooding during monsoons. Our decisions need to come from a space of owning responsibility for creating this problem.

The strays we see in most Indian cities are the indie dogs, one of the most intelligent landrace dogs who are all-rounders. They are excellent guard dogs, companions and very healthy because they have survived generations adapting to their environment. So they are useful, provided we could somehow figure out how to put them to work.

If we start sterilising every stray dog, the population will show a sharp decline in 10 years. During Covid, many people bought a pup—probably for the first time in their life—and later, when they returned to work, many abandoned their pets conveniently on the roads. India needs to develop a healthy do-not-buy-but-adopt mindset when it comes to pets.

Like humans, dogs have their personality and there is a pack order among dogs. Dogs that have become aggressive or have a history of showing aggression towards humans are the ones who should be immediately shifted to a shelter.

People who have trekked in the Himalayas praise the dogs they have met there and how helpful they were without showing any signs of aggression. That’s probably because the villagers and visitors treated them well.

We need to move away from the drama triangle of victim, prosecutor and rescuer. It’s time to look at the stray dogs issue as an urban planning challenge and seek long-term solutions. Dog knows, the city needs it.

The writer is a leadership coach and founder of OD Alternatives and Orglens, a boutique consulting firm, and a bonafide dog lover. Views are personal.


(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this column are that of the writer. The facts and opinions expressed here do not reflect the views of www.economictimes.com)