For some, dogs are pets. For many others across Chandigarh, they’re family, healers, even life’s greatest teachers.
Take Ruby Saggar for instance. A resident of Sector 21, Chandigarh, she doesn’t even refer to her dogs as pets. To her, Simba and Jinga are “daughters”. Simba walked into Ruby’s life 13 years ago in Udhampur and later gave birth to four puppies – Jinga being the one who stayed. From Simba’s intelligence and resilience to Jinga’s quiet companionship, which Ruby describes as “the daughter I didn’t get to have”, her life has been shaped around this love. She rescues dogs across the city, advises shelters and vets, and even asks friends to fund dog treatments instead of buying her gifts on her birthday. Along with dogs, she has also actively rescued squirrels, snakes and baby deer. After the Supreme Court’s recent order, she started putting collars labelled “vaccinated and neutered” on street dogs she’s treated herself, hoping to give them freedom instead of fear.
In Sector 2, Minerva Academy owner Ranjit Bajaj has opened his doors and heart to Indian Pariah Dogs, better known as Indies. His home is shared by four dogs, each with a distinct personality: Lucky and Snowy, both over a decade old; Kallo, a wanderer who comes and goes, and Jolly, a German Shepherd who stepped in after Lukah, another shepherd he had rescued, passed away. Bajaj, who also runs a shelter for 74 dogs in Mohali, says, “Indies are resilient, intelligent and the best guards you could ask for.”
For Himanshi Munjal, the bond with furry beings started with pain. Bitten on the cheek by a dog at the age of four, she bore a scar but also a question: what made the animal lash out? Instead of fear, she found empathy and that became the cornerstone of her life with indies. Buddy, her first adopted dog, opened the door to many more rescues. Today, she keeps her doors open for all the dogs in her society who receive vaccination, sterilisation and love. But her fight goes beyond rescue; it’s about changing perception. “People only love dogs as long as they cater to their aesthetic,” she says, pointing to how pets are paraded as accessories on social media. By drawing a contrast between city and town life, she talks about how our fast lives have affected the voiceless creatures. For her, true care means slowing down, understanding and finding ways to coexist. “Their lives matter just as much as ours,” she insists.
And then there’s Roopika Dhillon, whose commitment goes one step further. She doesn’t just adopt; she takes in the ones most people shy away from-the blind, the paralysed, the helpless. At her home in New Chandigarh, six such dogs live with her. Pari and Titli especially always stay alongside her nine-month-old daughter, often curled up around the infant as protectively as siblings. Dhillon, who first adopted an indie in her school days, has carried forward her father’s lesson that adoption is the only path. “There’s no such thing as ethical breeding,” Instead, she offers a simple piece of advice: “Adopt at least one indie if you can. And if you can’t, at least help them get vaccinated and sterilised.” Her home is filled with dogs with names as memorable as their personalities --Pushpa, Lucky, Raftaar. Each one carries a story of survival, a reminder that love and empathy can make all the difference. She argues, firmly rejecting pedigree culture. For her, shelters should be transit spaces, not permanent cages: “A shelter is like a hospital, you don’t leave someone there forever,” she says.
{{/usCountry}}And then there’s Roopika Dhillon, whose commitment goes one step further. She doesn’t just adopt; she takes in the ones most people shy away from-the blind, the paralysed, the helpless. At her home in New Chandigarh, six such dogs live with her. Pari and Titli especially always stay alongside her nine-month-old daughter, often curled up around the infant as protectively as siblings. Dhillon, who first adopted an indie in her school days, has carried forward her father’s lesson that adoption is the only path. “There’s no such thing as ethical breeding,” Instead, she offers a simple piece of advice: “Adopt at least one indie if you can. And if you can’t, at least help them get vaccinated and sterilised.” Her home is filled with dogs with names as memorable as their personalities --Pushpa, Lucky, Raftaar. Each one carries a story of survival, a reminder that love and empathy can make all the difference. She argues, firmly rejecting pedigree culture. For her, shelters should be transit spaces, not permanent cages: “A shelter is like a hospital, you don’t leave someone there forever,” she says.
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