My delinquent pet

Rebel is a rebel. Yet learning to coexist with such a creature is a good deal more complicated than that. Tonight, for example, as we trotted over to the park where people like to power walk in the evenings, and where he's not particularly welcome because he's a draw for street dogs, I received a phone call and found an empty bench to take it. He pulled and pulled on his leash until it snapped, and then ran into the darkness like a champion racehorse starting from the gate. He came back, close enough only to snag the rolled up newspaper the trainer had made with rubber bands and instructed me to carry as a deterrent for bad behavior, and again took off victorious, with the trophy in his jaws. I didn't bother to chase him at first, knowing it would just be a slapstick act and come to naught. Eventually I couldn't see him any more, and so had no choice but to pursue him. There he was, running at full speed on the opposite side of the park toward an elderly walker. I mumbled an apology, but as I came near, I could hear the man cheer, "run, run!" And off he went again. The walker said I must have kept him locked up a long time, that he had a dog who ran like that, which is why he didn't bring him to this particular park, where dogs off leashes were not allowed. I explained that I would never, that I gave him plenty of exercise and, holding up the flaccid leash, that he'd broken free. Rebel raced around some more, darting to the footpath and a pair of girls who let out a yelp before zigzagging the other way. Eventually the elderly gentleman coaxed him toward us and as he did, I feebly offered a dog biscuit, which he cheekily attempted to snag mid-flight. Minutes more passed until he returned to us and this time, I was able to grab his collar, feel his damp warm skin and quickly knot the broken leash around his neck. The rolled up newspaper would not be recovered. He trotted home head down like a good penitent. He walked into the door and over to my Mughal carpet and released a sea of bile - surely everything he had eaten that day - before collapsing into a sound sleep sprawled across my sofa. How to live with such energy, such intelligent mayhem? The first trainer said he'd need at least 15 new experiences every day; that I should take him for an hour's walk in a different part of the city every day; that I should let him scavenge on the street and only as a reward for good behavior. But surely this erstwhile street dog would conform to my life, I thought, to living in an apartment, eating from a food bowl, walking around the pretty tree-lined colony and be content. Every night he sleeps and I naively think I've won. You can take a dog out of the street, but never the street out of the dog? Is that the only lesson to be learned from my delinquent pet? Fortunately for me, the people of Delhi are tolerant of wild animals in their midst. Some are more than tolerant - they're exceedingly kind. They feed them and put sweaters and t-shirts on some of them in the winter. Fortunately for me, there is a law that forbids the killing of street dogs, apparently no matter how badly they behave. In Texas, dogs were given one free bite. After that they were executed. Here, dogs are free no matter what, regardless of whether they sleep on street corners or sofa cushions.