When Fear Wears Fur: A Stray Dog's Thoughts

Last night, I heard some humans talking. Their little glowing boxes showed pictures of dogs like me being put inside big, scary vans. Humans crying because the dogs they fed every day were suddenly gone. I didn't understand why. We were just living here, on the same street we always lived on, the small one near the market in a little part of Pune, where the air always smells like biscuits and smoke from tea stalls and food trucks.

When I was a tiny puppy, life felt different.

I don’t know about big human problems. I only know this: we don’t mean to be bad. Sometimes we bark or growl, but that’s only because we’re scared. Sometimes kids run near us and scream, and then their parents throw stones or hit us with sticks. It hurts, and it makes us more afraid. Why do they get angry when we are just trying to protect ourselves?

When I was a tiny puppy, life felt different. I used to hide under a vegetable cart where my mamma slept. She’d lick my ears when those big cars made loud noises at me. People would sometimes toss bits of bread or biscuit crumbs. I used to get so much food when I was smaller, but when I got bigger, the humans stopped smiling at me. I didn’t even know what I did wrong.

I wish humans knew the simple things. When we get those tiny pokes they call “vaccines,” we don’t spread sickness. When we get fixed, we don’t fight or have babies and become calmer. Isn’t that easier than locking us up?

But they take us away to these “shelters.” I’ve heard scary things about them… from my friend Chhotu. She was taken to that place once. She was a brown puppy with floppy ears who used to play with me near the bakery every day. One day, a van came and took her away. I waited for her every evening and howled for her all night.

Weeks passed, but she didn’t come… until one day when I was tired of howling, I heard her weak bark. She was so much thinner, her little snout had cuts all over it and she was limping weakly. She had real fear in her eyes when she described the shelter like it was her worst nightmare. “There were so many of us… hundreds,” she whispered. “All pushed into one small pit. No space to move, no air to breathe. They threw a little plain rice on top of us every day, just a handful, and we had to fight each other for even one tiny bite.” She told me she found a hole in the wall of the pit and escaped through it when she got thin enough. Now, she still shakes when she hears any vehicle pass by.

But anyway, not everyone is like that. There’s one human I like. At first, when she came near, I showed her my teeth. My skin was itchy, my fur was gone in patches, and I thought she would hurt me like the others. But she didn’t. She just put a bowl of food down and walked away. Every day she did the same. Slowly, I stopped growling. Slowly, I trusted her. One day, I even let my puppies go near her. That was a big really day for me.

When I got bigger, the humans stopped smiling at me.

I also heard some humans decided that we will now be given food, medicine, and then brought back to our homes, the streets. That made my tail wag. But I still worry. What if they call me “aggressive” when I’m only afraid? What if they decide I don’t belong?

We don’t want much. Just a little space, a little food, and some kindness. We have always been part of these streets. We watch people walk, we nap in the sun, we wag when someone looks at us kindly.

We are not monsters. We are just dogs.

I hope humans choose to see us with love, not fear. Because when fear wears fur, it looks a lot like me.

Author’s note:

I wrote this piece after seeing many street dogs being abused and beaten by people in my neighbourhood, especially in the context of the recent Supreme Court orders. I wanted to imagine how scared and confused they must feel, even though they just wanted kindness. This is written from the point of view of a dog near my society that I feed regularly, hoping people will understand their fear and see them with love and compassion.

By Tanvi Thombare, Grade 11