Story of a street dog.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The week began with the Supreme Court directing that all stray dogs in the Delhi region be rounded up within eight weeks and housed in shelters, with no animal being released back on the streets. The two-judge bench was responding to an “alarming and disturbing” rise in stray dog attacks. It is indeed true that not all strays in the city are neutered and free of rabies, causing risk to communities.

Here’s the story of how a Delhi street dog, infamous for being a biter, found a home.

As black as a moonless night, Kaloo lived on the streets of Jor Bagh, kept watch with the chowkidars, and slept under parked cars. The chowkidars had named him Kaloo.

One day, Kaloo bit a bungalow dweller as he jogged past the hedge under which the dog lay. New to the area, the jogger and his partner knew Kaloo’s reputation. For everyone’s safety, they decided to get him rabies shots. They won Kaloo with pieces of chicken, tempting him to become a regular visitor to their porch. A vet was arranged. By looking at Kaloo’s teeth, the vet estimated his age to be six years old. The couple got Kaloo a dog license at an NDMC veterinary clinic. It hung around his neck like a medal so that municipal services did not mistake him for a stray.

One evening, the couple walked to the far side of the neighbourhood for a dinner party. They had just sat down to eat when there was a scratching at the door. It was Kaloo. To follow his new friends, he had had to cross the territories of several other stray dogs, find the correct house, climb three flights of stairs, and know to scratch on the door. This ingenuity was the cue for Kaloo to get human parents. He became a fully-fledged member of the couple’s household, responding affably to the affection. He was also fine with a collar and leash, especially when being walked in his beloved Lodhi Garden thrice a day.

Eventually, Kaloo emigrated with his parents to an Oxfordshire village in faraway England. At his new pollution-free address, where everybody talked in angrezi, Kaloo did not forget his mother tongue, continuing to follow Hindi words like aaja, bhaitho, dost, and paani.

One morning, some years ago, Kaloo stepped into his garden, lay down under an apple tree, and slipped into a new realm. He was 17.

Kaloo was buried under a cherry tree. His human parents think of their child with fondness, asserting, “Kaloo was the victory of love.”