It takes a free, happy man to love a dog that has no home. On the hilltop of affluent Walkeshwar (where it’s rumoured that there is no soul), there is one man who will do anything he can to stretch the lives of the loathed dogs. There is an almost militant attachment between him and dogs. A few days ago, around midnight, he and his newly acquired wife (who had many personal debates in her mind before she accepted the ring) were in their car when they saw a man hit a stray dog. Cyrus got out of his car, flexed his systematically built biceps, shoulders and chest—which he sometimes calls breasts—and caught hold of the man’s hand. And said, "Hit me, hit me, hit me. When you want to hit a dog, you come hit me instead." His wife found it hilarious but the shocked pedestrian felt so bad he kept apologising even as he tried to free himself. "I am a mongrel myself," Cyrus says, "being half-Goan and half-Parsi." There should be some logic, he says, to why he feels so strongly towards stray dogs. There should also be some reason why man would want to kill a harmless animal. "I have seen a shirtless kid in heavy rains, covering a pup with his body. It’s the middle-class that has become heartless".