Rajul Singh


So I suppose you want to ask me how we met, how she came into my life and I into her. On a chilly winter evening of November, when I was eighteen years old, my father caved in to my persistent pleas to get my own dog. Brother and I drove to a dog farm in Jabalpur. The farm produced dogs of every imaginable size and shape and age and temperament. “Now, take your time,” brother said. “Your decision today is going to be with you for many years to come.” I quickly decided the older dogs were somebody else’s charity case. I immediately raced to the puppy cage. “Pick one that’s not timid,” said brother. “Try rattling the cage and see which ones aren’t afraid.” I grabbed the chain-link gate and yanked on it with a loud clang. The dozen or so puppies reeled backward, collapsing on top of…