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The Indian dog is a versatile, multi-faceted creature and perfect as a pet, says Maneka Gandhi

People call them mongrels, which actually means dogs of mixed parentage, bits of this and bits of that — in Australia they are affectionately called bitsers. I, however, prefer to refer to them as Indian dogs. I don’t like the word ‘mongrel’. And, unlike the foreign pedigrees, these are hardy creatures well adapted to survive and thrive in local conditions.

Each one is an individual and its keeper, the privileged owner of a unique dog.

Quick Learners
I have always found that Indian dogs are far brighter than breeds, which can be seen from the fact that when one of them moves into a house already inhabited by breed dogs, it pretty soon becomes ‘top dog’.

I suspect the bias against mixed breeds stems not only from insufficient research but also because most dog books are written by three kinds of people: First, the breeders who have a vested interest in playing down non-breed intelligence; second, the vets, who are irritated because Indian dogs are naturally healthy animals and therefore non-remunerative patients; and third, the dog trainers who find them difficult to teach because they have minds of their own and will not follow commands slavishly. On the other hand, they learn quickly from their owners because they are so anxious to please.

Robust Health
The Indian dog makes a far more rewarding companion, as much for his greater intelligence as for the far less healthcare he will require. Blessed with natural hybrid vigour, he is special in the cheerful stoicism with which he endures pain.

While my bull mastiff would regularly collapse moaning and groaning from the slightest infection, my Indian dogs have thrived healthy and happy minus any fuss or medical help.

Not surprisingly, Indian dogs live longer than breed dogs and so probably do their owners from less headache and heartache.

Indian dogs are very persistent. Unlike breed dogs, which have marriages arranged for them, the Indian dog marries for love, selecting his quarry on the open market and then fighting off all others that come to claim her.

I have an old roué, who in spite of being sterilised, will sally forth whenever he gets the scent, and return beaten, bloody and bruised, which curiously doesn’t seem to dampen his ardour at all.