<p class="bodytext">The early morning quietness was breached by excited squealing. I ventured out to enquire what the commotion was all about. A small group of children in their school uniforms, delicately balancing their hefty bags on their strained backs, were peering down intently into a dry rainwater drain. Inside lay six furballs throbbing with life, all huddled together for warmth. A neighbourhood community dog had given birth the previous night. "<span class="italic"><em>Chalo, chalo</em></span>, they don't have to go to school, but you have to," the parents herded the reluctant children towards their schools.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Back from school in the afternoon, the kids assembled again around the litter, curious and wonderstruck at these newly found live toys, their excitement palpable. The litter had two tans, two fawns, one brindled and one snow-white. This one is mine, that one is mine; everyone had their favourites. And soon it became a daily ritual. The neighbourhood brats would play with the little bundles of abundant energy before going to school, after coming back, before rushing to their extra classes and before calling it a day under the vigilant gaze of the mother. And in the process, the energies of the four-legged livewires, probably, rubbed off onto the two-legged ones, preparing them for another tiring day of packed schedules!</p>.The unspoken pet pact.<p class="bodytext">Two of the litter, a tan and a fawn, looked weak, too frail to vie for their mother’s milk. The tan succumbed a week later. Frisky and exuberant as the kids they frolicked with, the pups sniffed and explored their surroundings, chasing everything that moved and chewing on everything. Curiosity killed the brindled one as it came under a car’s wheels and got crushed. From then on, the car owners would crane their necks to look under their vehicles before driving off. The other tan disappeared one day, hopefully got adopted by a Good Samaritan.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The rest of the litter grew up faster and stronger, thanks to the gracious interventions of some empathetic residents. Given their voracious appetites, they would greedily lick up the bowls of milk and food crumbs placed for them once their mother’s milk dried up. The weak fawn seemed to grow fastest, soon becoming the strongest of the pack. The Snow White got adopted by a family as an emotional support animal. The lady of the house was fighting cancer. Aptly christened Snow, she is now the queen of the widower and his lovely daughter’s household. And what an attitude she has!</p>.<p class="bodytext">The two fawns, brothers-in-arms, both robust and sturdy, now roam our lane like two princes, lording over their fiefdom, marking their territory, safeguarding it ferociously and chasing away any intruder of the species.</p>
<p class="bodytext">The early morning quietness was breached by excited squealing. I ventured out to enquire what the commotion was all about. A small group of children in their school uniforms, delicately balancing their hefty bags on their strained backs, were peering down intently into a dry rainwater drain. Inside lay six furballs throbbing with life, all huddled together for warmth. A neighbourhood community dog had given birth the previous night. "<span class="italic"><em>Chalo, chalo</em></span>, they don't have to go to school, but you have to," the parents herded the reluctant children towards their schools.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Back from school in the afternoon, the kids assembled again around the litter, curious and wonderstruck at these newly found live toys, their excitement palpable. The litter had two tans, two fawns, one brindled and one snow-white. This one is mine, that one is mine; everyone had their favourites. And soon it became a daily ritual. The neighbourhood brats would play with the little bundles of abundant energy before going to school, after coming back, before rushing to their extra classes and before calling it a day under the vigilant gaze of the mother. And in the process, the energies of the four-legged livewires, probably, rubbed off onto the two-legged ones, preparing them for another tiring day of packed schedules!</p>.The unspoken pet pact.<p class="bodytext">Two of the litter, a tan and a fawn, looked weak, too frail to vie for their mother’s milk. The tan succumbed a week later. Frisky and exuberant as the kids they frolicked with, the pups sniffed and explored their surroundings, chasing everything that moved and chewing on everything. Curiosity killed the brindled one as it came under a car’s wheels and got crushed. From then on, the car owners would crane their necks to look under their vehicles before driving off. The other tan disappeared one day, hopefully got adopted by a Good Samaritan.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The rest of the litter grew up faster and stronger, thanks to the gracious interventions of some empathetic residents. Given their voracious appetites, they would greedily lick up the bowls of milk and food crumbs placed for them once their mother’s milk dried up. The weak fawn seemed to grow fastest, soon becoming the strongest of the pack. The Snow White got adopted by a family as an emotional support animal. The lady of the house was fighting cancer. Aptly christened Snow, she is now the queen of the widower and his lovely daughter’s household. And what an attitude she has!</p>.<p class="bodytext">The two fawns, brothers-in-arms, both robust and sturdy, now roam our lane like two princes, lording over their fiefdom, marking their territory, safeguarding it ferociously and chasing away any intruder of the species.</p>
