Subhakeerthana

All my life, I've thought of myself as a dog person. Wherever I went, they seemed to know it. Strays... they'd come sniffing my way with tails going like tiny metronomes and eyes full of trust. I never left home without a packet of biscuits or dry food in my handbag, wedged in between the perfume, the kajal and the lipsticks. They were as essential as my makeup pouch. Every dog got the same little ritual: a smile, a pat, the soft crunch of a biscuit breaking the silence between us. And a "hi." I rarely greet humans. They're too judgmental, too predictable, and, let's be honest, often boring. But pets get my full-throated "good morning" and "good evening," as if the whole street might brighten because I stopped to say hello. Some followed me for blocks, trotting at my heels, tongues lolling. On the beach, in the park, outside the grocery store, dogs drifted towards me as if I had something magnetic in my pockets, and I never minded. When one...