Stray Dog Issue: Her Eyes, My Answer

Abihotry Bhardwaz
On August 11, 2025, the Supreme Court of India delivered a landmark directive that has since ignited debates across the nation. The order, born out of a growing concern over dog-bite fatalities-including the tragic loss of a six-year-old child to rabies-demands that every stray dog in the Delhi-NCR region be captured and relocated to shelters within eight weeks.
The ruling envisions state-of-the-art shelters equipped with sterilisation and immunisation facilities, CCTV surveillance, and even a helpline to address dog-bite complaints within four hours. But it also carries an uncompromising clause: no captured dog will ever return to the streets. Any resistance-whether by activists, organisations, or citizens-could invite contempt of court charges.

While the intention is to safeguard human lives, the order has set off a storm of anguish. Animal welfare groups, celebrities, and activists have raised alarm over the fate of thousands of dogs who may be uprooted from the only homes they know-the street corners, shop fronts, and neighbourhoods where they’ve built unspoken bonds with people. Beyond the estimated ₹15,000 crore needed to implement this, the ruling confronts us with a deeper question: what does it mean to treat a life-any life-with dignity?
This debate is not abstract for me. In December 2019, I met a stray pup whose eyes carried the weight of both vulnerability and hope. I didn’t see her as just another dog. I saw a soul. When she nestled into my arms, trembling but trusting, something shifted inside me. In her gaze, I found a mirror of my own longing for love and belonging.
Over time, she became more than a companion. She became my family. She was there in my silence, pressing against me when tears blurred my vision. She was there in my joy, bounding alongside me under a forgiving sun. To call her a “pet” feels hollow-she was, and still is, a confidante, a healer, and an anchor tethering me to the gentlest truths of life.
In 2020, my attempt to capture the depth of this bond found its way into the pages of Planet Young in The Assam Tribune. That piece was not merely about a dog—it was about love without conditions, about empathy that transcends species. And even today, years later, when I look into her eyes, I am reminded that love isn’t bound by blood, breed, or address. Love is simply two souls deciding to trust each other.
When the word “removal” echoes in court orders, I don’t see crores of rupees or logistics. I see my dog—the one who taught me that kindness is not an option but a calling. I see countless others like her, waiting for a gentle hand, a safe corner, or simply the right to exist.
This is not a fight between humans and dogs. This is a reflection of what kind of humans we choose to be. Do we measure lives only in terms of fear and danger, or do we dare to lead with compassion, empathy, and coexistence?

My dog is my answer.
Her eyes remind me: justice is not about removal—it is about recognition. Recognition of life, in all its forms.

Abihotry Bhardwaz , M.sc Student, Electronics and communication technology, Gauhati university
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