They rest where the sea meets the street: white coats dusted with sand, brown flanks warm against the ground. One watches the water with a curled tail and an open face. Another blinks in the shade, tongue soft, paws settled. Farther along, two more stretch in the afternoon light, as if the sand has made room for them.They are not pets. They are neighbors of the promenade and the rocks, known to fishermen and early walkers, part of the ordinary life of this coast. Their ribs show the honesty of street living. Their calm shows the trust that comes when a place is kind often enough.May the tide stay gentle. May the shade find them. May this town keep seeing them as they are: not a problem to be moved, but a living part of Puducherry’s everyday grace.
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