We buy Huskies that faint in our summers. Labradors that shed like snowfall. Rottweilers that make headlines when something goes wrong.

And in that blind chase for “foreign,” our own jewels — Rajapalayam, Kombai, Kanni, Chippiparai down South, the Rampur hound up North — are slipping away.

These weren’t just pets. They ran with kings, guarded forts, chased leopards, stood watch without fuss. Strong, smart, tuned perfectly to our land. Yet we forgot them.

And now they are the Indies we call “strays.” They’re not strays. They’re survivors. Forgotten heirs of this proud bloodline. Resilience wrapped in fur.

I know this because Laddu and Golu chose me. Two Indies who didn’t cost me lakhs. Who don’t need AC rooms or imported food. Yet they’ve given me what no pedigree ever could — laughter that fills the house, loyalty that asks for nothing, eyes that read my heart better than words.

They’ve healed me. They’ve made my life softer, happier, fuller.

So when someone sneers at street dogs or blames dog lovers, I smile. The fault isn’t in these animals. It’s in our blindness.

If we truly want solutions, let’s talk adoption. Vaccination. Sterilization. Not cruelty.

Because love and loyalty were born right here. They don’t come with a foreign tag.
….If you can’t respect a street dog’s struggle, at least don’t insult its survival.

⸻Suvi’s Scribbles