Around New Year, there is a slew of horoscopic posts and no astrological sign is left out, or singled out, or spared. There are blanket predictions of rosy love lives and overflowing wealth for all and sundry. This is wonderful considering there are approximately 8.3 billion people on the planet where almost all of them desire, among other things, rosy love lives and an abundance of wealth. Of course, the lives of some are rosier than others, Mr Epstein and his ever-widening circle notwithstanding. But be that as it may. These hard-wearing predictions carry on till Valentine’s Day when love forecasts and rainbow predictions reach a crescendo and ably assist the market of the lovelorn.While the elements and stars may well combine to create our lives, Chinese astrological signs are based on animals. This is the year of the Fire Horse that comes once in 60 years. It is supposed to bring intense changes on the personal and global levels. Those who read the signs say that it is a paradoxical year that can bring great success, but can become challenging should one err and not embrace the demands it will bring.As per the Chinese system, some are born, among others, in the years of the ox, rabbit, dragon, snake, pig or rat. I happen to have been born in the year of the rat. And should things become unpleasant, it is well known that rats are the first to desert a sinking ship.But let’s turn back to love for a moment, minus Valentine’s Day and all those misty predictions. It does not have to be human love. Nor love of, or for, the Divine. It has been well said that you’ve never truly loved till you’ve loved an animal. There have been remarkable cases like those of Jim Corbett and ‘Billy’ Arjan Singh; the latter let big cats like leopards and tigers roam freely around his house. Romulus Whitaker has done exceptional work in the conservation of snakes and crocodiles. These examples of conservation and perhaps, of love, are beyond the capability and comprehension of ‘rats’ like me. We settle for pets like dogs and cats. And if we have it in us, we give them love that is as unconditional as what we may receive.When our last dog died, I did not want to get one again. She was a gorgeous Tibetan terrier who, with her long hair and considerable attitude, lived and controlled us for a full 17 years. At one time, the little son of a friend came by and took a look at her basket of playthings — a chewed-up bone, a few balls, a battered plastic soap dish and her favourite, a rag that she chased. Appreciative of the collection, he asked: “I have seen her toys, where are her books?”It was her routine around which the household revolved. My father took her for the morning walk, and I did the evening one. Then, one day, my wife and I had gone out and on our return, our young son opened the door and said that our dog was lying on the kitchen floor and not getting up. She was still breathing. I picked her and she died in my lap. That death impacted me as much as that of any humans one has loved and lost.It is after several years that we have a dog again. The family has pre-empted me. I was in another town and one evening was sent the picture of a small puppy. “Very nice,” was my casual and rather unthinking reply. “But why are you sending this?” “He is the latest addition to the family,” I was informed. And that was that.Some months back, the little chap arrived in the hills and took it upon himself to overhaul the household’s daily routine and alter it to his requirements. No more late mornings and no more travelling whenever you want.He is also making his presence known. In our neighbourhood is a small girl who comes by regularly to ask for him. She plays with him and now, recites him poems that she has learnt at school; this is done, approximately, to the rhythm of his wagging tail. She has asked if I am ‘his Papa’, and well, one might as well accept that role with a modicum of grace. This is a moment when affection pushes biology aside.The puppy is approaching his full size and is of a rather lean and active breed. I have been accosted and asked if we don’t feed him enough as he is so skinny.Somehow, I don’t like the phrase ‘dog/pet parent’, nor do I care much for the word ‘owner’. But, honestly, I don’t have a substitute for either.— The writer is an author based in Shimla