Revisiting the Risks and Dangers of Stray Dogs in a Tourist City
Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
A four-year-old boy was critically injured recently after being attacked by a pack of nearly fifteen stray dogs in Srinagar’s Sarai Bala. It is another headline. Another child. Another family shattered. Another debate that will last for a day or two before silence returns—until the next victim.
One question refuses to go away.
How many more?
Have the number of stray dogs increased? Have they become more aggressive? Or have we simply normalized a danger that should never have become part of everyday life?
After all, when did stray dogs ever stop biting strangers? They do not distinguish between age, gender, religion, profession, or social status. They bite children on their way to school, elderly citizens returning from Fajr prayers, women walking to work, tourists exploring our city, doctors rushing for emergency duty, and labourers earning their daily bread.
The victims change. The story does not.
I still remember returning to Kashmir after nearly three decades overseas.It was early dawn.From the car window I noticed an unusual sight. Young men, elderly citizens, women—almost everyone on morning walks—carried sticks. Some had wooden staffs, others steel rods, while a few carried whatever they could find.
For a moment I wondered whether there had been a strike or some disturbance.Curious, I asked my driver, “Where are all these people going with sticks?”He smiled sarcastically.“Doctor Sahib, Kashmir has changed. They are going for morning walks.”
My question remained unanswered.“Then why the sticks?”His reply was immediate.“To protect themselves from dogs.”As if to prove his point, he slowed the vehicle, switched on the headlights, and illuminated a large pack of stray dogs occupying almost the entire road.
It was frightening.During the drive he narrated one story after another.An elderly lady bitten outside her home.A little boy chased by dogs, who fell into a drain and drowned.A young woman rushed to SMHS Hospital after suffering severe bites, only to discover that anti-rabies vaccines were temporarily unavailable and had to be purchased privately. For weeks she underwent repeated injections while neighbours, out of ignorance, warned others not to go near her, believing rabies spreads from person to person.
I wanted to interrupt.Rabies is not transmitted by casual contact.I also wanted to ask why such shortages should ever occur and why preventive measures were not keeping pace with the growing menace.But before I could continue the conversation, we reached my home.As I stepped out of the car, three stray dogs sat right at my entrance gate.The frightening stories I had just heard flashed through my mind.Instinctively, I withdrew my foot back into the vehicle.The driver quietly picked up a stone and chased them away.
That was my welcome home.
What caught my attention over the following days was another silent change in Kashmiri society.Outside mosques after Fajr prayers, almost every worshipper carried a stick.The walking stick had acquired a new purpose—not to support old age, but to defend against stray dogs.
For nearly thirty years abroad, I had hardly seen stray dogs roaming residential streets.Here, they had become part of the morning landscape.
Old habits die hard.One morning, forgetting the new reality, I left home before sunrise for the mosque for fajr prayer without carrying anything in my hand.Barely a few metres from my gate, I encountered a pack of dogs.
Assuming they would ignore me, I tried to pass quietly.Suddenly one lunged.Its jaws almost caught my trousers.Startled, I shouted, turned, and ran back home.That morning I made a personal resolution.Avoid lonely roads in darkness.,for time being pray” fajr- the predawn prayer at home , Avoid unnecessary confrontation.Sometimes avoidance becomes the safest strategy.My only weapon has remained my pen.
Over the years I have written repeatedly about dog bites, rabies, vaccine availability, preventive strategies, sterilisation programmes, waste management, and the need for humane but effective population control.Yet the headlines continue.The preventive health-advisory by Prof. Dr.Saleem khan , a duty conscious medico , social and preventive medicine specialist ,do share a periodic advisory , this time using scary AI pic – on mortality of Rabies and what to do when you are victim , perhaps stirring the dept responsible for sensitive doable action and follow up action.
The excuses also continue.
Dispelling the Myth That Pet Dogs Don’t Bite:A common misconception is that only stray dogs bite, while pet dogs are harmless. Unfortunately, experience and evidence prove otherwise. Any dog—stray or pet, vaccinated or unvaccinated, sterilized or not—can bite if frightened, stressed, territorial, or inadequately controlled.
I vividly recall an incident involving one of our close relatives, a retired professor, who was on his way to receive a prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award. As he stepped out of an elevator, a lady entered carrying her pet dog. Despite objections from those present, she continued to carry the dog without taking adequate precautions.Within minutes, the dog suddenly bit the elderly professor.
Instead of expressing concern or apologizing, the lady casually remarked, “Chinky is sterilized.”. What a height of insensitivity .That response reflected a dangerous misunderstanding. Sterilization has nothing to do with the risk of a dog bite or the possibility of rabies exposure. Following any dog bite, medical evaluation is essential, and decisions regarding anti-rabies vaccination and other post-exposure treatment should be based on established medical guidelines—not on assumptions or reassurances from the pet owner.
What should have been a memorable day of recognition turned into a medical emergency. Rather than attending the ceremony to receive his Lifetime Achievement Award, the elderly professor had to rush to the hospital casualty department for wound management, anti-rabies prophylaxis, and tetanus protection.
This incident is a reminder that responsible pet ownership extends beyond loving one’s pet. Owners must ensure their dogs are properly restrained in public places, respect the concerns of others, and accept responsibility if an incident occurs. Public safety must never be compromised by the belief that “my dog never bites.”
The debate often shifts from protecting human life to protecting animal rights, as if the two are mutually exclusive.The moment someone raises concern over repeated attacks, whispers begin.
“Careful… someone influential may be upset.”As though public safety should wait lest someone takes offence.Human compassion and animal welfare are not enemies.But compassion without responsibility becomes dangerous.
No civilized society asks its children or senior citizens to negotiate with packs of aggressive stray dogs while walking to school or the mosque.Kashmir proudly calls itself a world tourist destination.Tourism advertisements showcase gardens, lakes, hospitality and breathtaking landscapes.But what image do we project when tourists are advised not to walk alone after sunset because of stray dog attacks?
What impression does it create when visitors carry sticks instead of cameras?
What message do we send when morning walkers plan routes not around scenery but around canine territories?This is no longer merely a municipal issue.It has become a public health issue.( emergency which seeks urgent attention and action) Also ,A tourism issue.A governance issue.And above all, a human dignity issue.Every day social media carries disturbing videos.Children with torn faces.Women bleeding.Elderly citizens collapsing.Policemen struggling to escape.
These are not artificial intelligence-generated clips.They are real human beings.Real suffering.Real fear.Yet after every incident, public outrage gradually fades.Perhaps because, as an old Kashmiri saying goes,“Yi lagi tas lagi sarkari.”The pain belongs only to the one who has been bitten.The system moves on.Imagine a surgeon called urgently for a life-saving operation.As he opens his gate before dawn, he is attacked by stray dogs.
Who loses?Not merely the doctor.The patient waiting inside the operation theatre.A respected academic preparing to leave for an international conference as a guest speaker steps outside with luggage in hand.Within seconds he is bitten.Should he travel?Should he postpone?Will anti-rabies vaccines be readily available at his destination?Will international travel insurance cover the uncertainty?He eventually abandons the journey.One bite changed months of preparation.
There have been heartbreaking reports of distinguished professionals, business executives, and ordinary citizens whose lives ended because rabies remains almost universally fatal once symptoms appear.Every bite therefore carries anxiety far beyond the physical wound.It leaves psychological scars.Families become fearful.Children stop playing outdoors.Senior citizens alter their daily routines.Morning walks , attending fajr( predawn prayer at local mosqye)become risk assessments rather than exercises.Silence from those responsible is perhaps the most painful aspect.Our elected representatives rarely speak about it.Perhaps because they seldom walk alone before sunrise.Official convoys come with security escorts.Ordinary citizens do not.The mother taking her child to school has no escort.The elderly man returning from the mosque has none.The one going to bakers shop early morning has a scare.The newspaper vendor cycling through deserted streets has none.The sanitation worker beginning duty before dawn has none.They face the risk every single day.No one advocates cruelty towards animals.
Scientific sterilisation, vaccination, efficient waste management, responsible pet ownership, proper shelters where feasible, enforcement against abandonment, and evidence-based urban animal control can coexist with compassion.But endless discussions without measurable outcomes serve neither humans nor animals.The real tragedy is that we have begun accepting the unacceptable.Parents now routinely warn children about dogs before warning them about traffic.
Walking sticks have quietly become part of daily attire.I also purchased one foldable, my neighbour Mukhtar sahib., a golfer has bigger and heavier stick than me, Farooq sahib another neighbour wants to buy one- and post fajr we continue discussions on dog menace. Neighbourhood WhatsApp groups exchange information not about weather or road closures but about which lane is occupied by aggressive packs.Fear has become institutionalised.This is not normal.Nor should it ever become normal.The measure of a civilized society is not merely how it treats animals, but how effectively it protects its most vulnerable human beings while doing so.
A city where a four-year-old child cannot walk safely, where elderly citizens fear dawn prayers, where women alter routes to avoid attacks, and where tourists hesitate to explore on foot cannot simply dismiss this as an unavoidable inconvenience.Every fresh dog bite is not merely an accident.It is a reminder that somewhere preventive systems have failed.The next victim may be someone else’s child.Or ours.Someone else’s parent.Or ours.Someone else’s colleague.Or ours.
The poet Khazir once lamented on the banks of Wular.
Today, as our lakes shrink and public spaces change, one wonders where we should now carry our collective lament.Because the question remains unanswered.
I ask once again: Ab Tak .. kitney.How many more?How many more dog bites before this becomes a declared public health emergency?How many more children before preventive systems replace reactive responses?How many more headlines before governance awakens?
Before this stops being somebody else’s tragedy and becomes a priority worthy of urgent, sustained, evidence-based action. Until then, sadly, the dogs will continue to bite—and society will continue to count its victims.
Until evidence replaces excuses, urgency replaces indifference and accountability replaces silence, Kashmir will continue counting victims instead of preventing them.The dogs will continue to bite.The question is whether our conscience will continue to sleep.
(Author is consultant surgeon, healthcare quality and patient safety expert, clinical auditor, columnist, and healthcare policy adviser. He writes regularly on healthcare quality, patient safety, medical ethics, cancer awareness, and social evils and public health.)
