In an odd democracy where compassion often chases common sense, the Supreme Court’s latest order on stray dogs reminds us that love needs a leash. The apex court has instructed that stray dogs be put away from public spaces such as educational institutions, bus stands, railway stations and hospitals across Delhi and the National Capital Region. The execution is up to the state governments which must ensure that these dogs are relocated. The Supreme Court has thus unleashed yet another loud bark-off – between dog lovers and other citizens.

As committed dog lovers, we understand the emotions that this order is bound to stir. Our direct personal history, which includes multiple incidents of accidental contact with both pet and street dogs necessitating successive anti-rabies vaccination cycles, provides essential context. One of us still remembers Bhitu – a stray in Bengaluru who would visit often for food and affection – until municipal authorities relocated him after neighbours complained. Losing Bhitu was like losing a companion. Yet as much as the canine was missed, the dangers that unrestrained packs of stray dogs pose in our cities cannot be denied. Like others, we too have been chased and threatened by dogs during early morning walks – experiences that have nurtured caution alongside sympathy.

The social psychology of dog love in urban Bharat (India) runs deep. Many among the young, urban elite have walked away from traditional family life. They prefer nuclear living, busy careers, frequent travel and therefore the “DINK” (Double Income, No Kids) lifestyle. They have kennelled the family as an oppressive institution and adopted pets and strays as surrogate children. After all, dogs offer unconditional tail-wags, puppy-eyed adoration and no backtalk. Unlike a family member, a dog won’t bite with criticism or chew up your independence. For many, strays offer unconditional love and companionship without the reciprocal leash of responsibility.

This explains why street addresses of stray dogs are defended with such ferocity. Their displacement is mourned more loudly than the slaughter of food animals. Strays have become emotional comfort blankets for the urban class, filling the hollow that is dug daily by alienation, loneliness and the breakdown of  lasting social bonds. In the middle-class imagination, they are not just animals but surrogate pack members – replacing what families provided: affection, care, loyalty and protection.

So on one side of this debate are passionate “pet parents” who see strays as coochie companions unfairly muzzled by the state. On the other side, apprehensive citizens growl about packs that stalk streets and hurt innocents. The order may thus sound like common sense to some but to others it feels like an attack on compassion itself.

This tussle is hardly new. Having studied across public institutions like Presidency College, Delhi School of Economics, JNU, Osmania University, IIIT Hyderabad and Jadavpur University, we have repeatedly witnessed how universities – given their liberal nature – become hotspots of activism to defend campus dogs. Yet the aggressive behaviour of stray dogs is no secret in these spaces. We recall that visually disabled students walking with white canes would unknowingly alarm campus dogs in JNU. The dogs, feeling threatened, often barked and snapped. It was a reminder that every human deserves the right to walk safely. The same story now echoes across campuses and cities alike – a dogfight over territory with humans and canines claiming the right of way.

Dog lovers seem reluctant to heel. Their activism resembles a frenzied pup tugging at the leash – emotional, loud and mostly unaware of the bigger picture. NGOs, INGOs and wokes, always eager to sniff out causes, have leapt onto the bandwagon. They bay at the state rather than listening to the concerns of ordinary citizens who face dangerous encounters with growling packs at unearthly hours. It is easy to wag a finger from the ease of an air-conditioned kennel when one has never had to dodge dogs at 4 a.m. on the way to work.

And here lies an odd hypocrisy. Many of the protesters against relocation are enthusiastic meat eaters – cheerfully chomping chicken wings, wolfing down mutton curry and even flaunting their fondness for beef steaks as a mark of defiance. To murder and devour one animal but howl over the transfer of another seems less about kindness and more about convenient tail-wagging. One wonders why stray dogs sit high on the moral food chain while chickens, cows, fish, goats, lambs and pigs are left to the butcher?

Even vegetarians, who have greater claim to consistency, bite off more than they can chew. Their opposition too seems less about principle and more about posturing. These are people whose lives are fenced by gated apartments where the only dogs they encounter are manicured canines behind polished doors or docile strays under park benches. They jog at safe hours when the human pack is robust and seldom face the midnight menace of a feral gang. It is easy to lob biscuits from a balcony but harder to face a snarling pack alone on a deserted street.

Sentimental tail-wags must not drown out the growl of reality. Strays are not harmless puppies forever curled at one’s feet; they are territorial creatures that pursue in packs, posing danger to children, the elderly, the disabled and anyone who cannot outrun them. Unlike emotion, rabies kills. The debate therefore is not about dogs alone but about how we share our public spaces and our sense of responsibility. Stray dogs deserve dignity and care – but not at the cost of turning our streets into kennels of fear. We must leash our coy emotions, muzzle our terrible hypocrisies and take the strays home. If we cannot sign up for that responsibility, the government should no longer let the dogs out.

The authors teach social sciences in the Rashtram School of Public Leadership, Rishihood University.