Dogs are loved for many reasons, but arguably one of the most cherished traits they possess universally is their loyalty. Whether you leave them for some time, mock them or abuse them—and while they may fear you—they will remain loyal to you, and leave you they won’t. They will continue to love, obey, and cherish you, as their human, owner, and master. Does this sound familiar? Does it remind you of the trauma endured by our ancestors, indigenous land, and the remnants of our colonial past?

No wonder Pakistan’s Eurocentric elite love dogs so much.

I grew up with dogs, mostly Golden Labradors (arguably one of if not the most popular in-demand breed in Pakistan). We kept dogs both at home and on the family farm. We once had a black German Shepherd, colloquially known as an Alsatian, named Hector. Hector would receive compliments and flattery far and wide from our fellow dog-walking diplomatic neighbours in E-7, the sector in Islamabad known for its embassies and foreigners, and where I spent most of my childhood and adolescence. Hector was tragically maimed to death by a feral dog, but he was much loved by us all.

We had a handful of other dogs as well, most of whom were either taken care of by the stewards of our farmland in Barakahu, or our chowkidar at home, Shah Ji. Shah Ji was a retired soldier and taught one of our dogs, Stinger Missile, how to shake, sit, and even hold a bamboo stick like a rifle. A beautiful ‘desi kutta,’ I loved Stinger Missile with all my heart, and I loved that he wasn’t some fancy breed who had to suffer through genetic health issues.

Shah ji taught him how to be such an immaculate guard dog, that once a neighbouring ambassador’s dog was being walked a little too close to our gate. Stinger Missile, staying true to his name (which was chosen by my grandfather, a retired PAF Air Commodore), shot himself out of the seven-foot gate and ripped the female dog’s stomach apart, killing all of her unborn pups while she, thankfully, made it out alive.

After covering the dog’s surgery expenses, we sent the ambassador a bottle of wine, as these conflicts among upper-class dogs were commonplace, with established protocols.

Our household certainly wasn't unique in Pakistan for having dogs. In Islamabad, it was commonplace to see exotic, pedigree dogs, and even domesticated street dogs being walked on the polished, pristine, and petunia-laden pavements. Most of my peers whose families have been acquainted with mine for decades also owned dogs. Many opted for breeds such as pugs and punch-nosed Persian cats, both known for their undeniable ‘cuteness’ and less known for their respiratory issues and genetic maladies.

This reflects a preference for aesthetics over well-being, and perhaps the reason why so many have turned to pet breeding as their side or full time income in Pakistan. And these animals often receive better treatment and care than the domestic workers who involuntarily become their primary caregivers, like Shah ji, while facing exploitative pay and conditions.

This differential treatment of dogs versus humans within elite circles highlights a broader societal issue: the selective application of loyalty. Dogs, valued for their unconditional devotion, particularly those of pedigree or exotic breeds, become status symbols of capitalist pride, while human loyalty requires monitoring, payment, or even coercion. This disparity underscores a troubling truth about privilege and power in Pakistan's social hierarchy, and highlights the discrepancy in some humans’ humanity.

This hierarchy can be witnessed clearly in the so-called Islamic Republic of Pakistan, where the majority of the population problematically views the dog as an ‘unclean’ and ‘unIslamic’ animal, and where dog poisoning, abuse, and homicide occurs at alarmingly high rates.

This cultural divide between the views of the religious masses and the normalization of dog ownership amongst the elite is stark and portrays the selective nature of loyalty and its association with privilege, and how the “rules” decided by the qaum don’t apply to the rich (this also reminds me of the concept of sifarish, which erupted as the result of two centuries’ worth of British nepotism and Indian feudalism).

Perhaps the unwavering loyalty the elite admire in dogs mirrors some of their loyalty, one that is not so cute, fluffy, and loving, but classist, selective, and even immoral.