Perhaps my first solo adventure happened when I was a toddler of two years. A cat had wandered into our front yard, and while my mom was busy tending to my baby brother, I followed the cat on his meanderings down my street, around the block to the house which stood directly behind ours. Luckily for me, the little old lady who lived in that house recognized me. She brought both the cat and me inside her home and called my mother. Those were the days when we had our neighbor’s phone numbers. The days of block parties and drinking water from the garden hose. I had no idea how far I had traveled, only that I wanted to pet the pretty little kitty. 

From that moment, my bond with animals became woven into the very fabric of who I am—I cannot remember a self without that connection.

I still recall the days I lived in a humble mud hut along the Malabar coast of South India, when stepping outside my door brought me face-to-face with a tiny life in need. A small puppy, whimpering and wriggling, had appeared as if summoned by some unseen hand. She bore a raw, infected wound on her back, was riddled with parasites, and dangerously dehydrated. I spent months nursing her back to health, and slowly, gently, I convinced my landlord’s family that she would be the perfect companion for their dog, Raja. It seemed an invisible sign hung above my door, readable only by creatures in need because once the puppy thrived, Raja arrived seeking care for an infected wound, and soon after, a third little puppy appeared. In those moments, I felt the quiet magic of trust and kinship, and I awakened to the call to help animals. 

Because of their purity, their innocence, their loyalty, their unconditional love, and because they are so adorable in all their wild ways, I wish to help them and the humans they have chosen to love.