What else did I do except throwing a broken biscuit for that street dog? It chose its master instantly. Wagging its tail, it followed me all the way home. I shooed the dog away but it never relented. It waited at the gate panting with hope that I would accept it. I thought it would leave after a day or so. Day after day after day, it stayed there. Wherever I went, it accompanied me. Whenever I rested on the verandah, it would twine around my legs and cuddle with affection. I never gave food and it didn’t seem to bother. I thought the dog led a useless life. One night, when I was mugged by a fellow human being, there was no guarantee for my life. It barked at him, pounced on him, and chased him away. That incident didn’t change my life but my view on the dog’s life. All I did to earn its faith was throwing a biscuit but how much had the dog done back to earn my care and shelter? I came then with a plate of milk for my new master. Who was the real master when I was a slave to its faith?