Like human beings, dogs too, belong to different social classes. There are rich dogs, and there are poor dogs. There are the intellectual dogs, and there are the stupid ones. There are dog s who are no less snobbish than their masters, and there are dogs who are proud of their bad manners. There are dogs who live in dirty streets because their parents lived in those streets and had no parents.
The streets dogs are the vagabonds who have no home to live in and no club to go to. They belong to the inferior race. They are loafers. They are wanted by no one. No one loves them and no one feed them. They have to find their own food to themselves. They crowd in front of the butcher’s and baker’s shops waiting to pick up a bone or a piece of dry bread.
The street dogs are dirty, bleeding and infested with germs and diseases. And they breed and multiply at a tremendous. Some time the street dogs forget themselves and bark at a city –father or some superior civil servant. Perhaps they only want to draw the attention of these gentlemen to the dirty condition of the streets which are their home. But the result of such a protest appeared against the dogs. They send dog –killing squad to end the menace of street dogs once for all. But most of street dogs are lucky dogs and they can smell things from miles.
The dog killing campaign ends in a couple of days. Some half a dozen unlucky dogs are killed, the rest reappear in the streets the moment the danger is over.