Dubai’s pet abandonment begs a crucial question for Indians: Are we animal lovers or are pets just our status symbols?

In luxurious cities of glass domes, tall towers, where the desert wind of ambition and success blows all around, it could have been easy to believe that life is comfortable. At least, for the ones with high paying white collar jobs, living in skyscrapers and gated 5-to-7-star communities, going out for leisurely strolls with their dogs in the morning and/or posting motivational quotes on Insta reels with their cats.But things changed. Drastically. Over a week. The US-Israel war with Iran has innumerable casualties. Over here, we are focusing on how Indians’ relationship with pets is evolving—with some good changes, and some, catastrophic. On quiet streets in Dubai, cardboard boxes have appeared almost every morning since the past two weeks. Inside would be kittens or puppies. A note says: “Sorry. I cannot take them with me.

” Then there are dogs tied to poles. More cats left in crates. Rabbits abandoned in parks with their hutches. In recent weeks, animal rescue volunteers say they have documented hundreds of cases of pets left behind as their parents scrambled to fly out of Dubai.However, we can hardly say that this problem is new or restricted to the UAE. It persists all over the world and has gone up manifold in the past decade due to rising cost of living, say several studies.

In India, the problem is on the rise. On one hand are people who are genuine animal lovers; on the other, are those who treat their pets as status symbols. It may or may not have started with the famous pug ad by a telecom company but we have seen far more pets on leash roaming the streets or in animal shelters in India over the past decade.

Reverence and neglect co-exist in India

India has always been a country of paradoxical animal relationships. Reverence and neglect often coexist.

Cows are worshipped in many communities. Elephants appear in temples and festivals. Monkeys roam freely through cities like Delhi and Varanasi. Street dogs are tolerated in neighbourhoods where residents feed them every evening. At the same time, India has one of the largest populations of stray animals in the world.

According to government estimates, there are over 60 million stray dogs across the country.

The pet boom in urban India

India’s pet care market has exploded over the past decade. Industry estimates suggest that over 30 million households in India now own pets, and the pet care industry is expected to cross ₹20,000 crore in value within a few years.

Mumbai, Bengaluru, Delhi and Hyderabad have witnessed the emergence of an entire ecosystem around pets — grooming salons, luxury boarding services, organic pet food, veterinary chains, and even pet cafés and resorts.

For younger urban Indians, pets increasingly represent companionship in an otherwise fast-paced, often isolating city life. Many millennials and Gen Z professionals are delaying marriage or living alone in big cities.

A dog or cat fills emotional space that extended families once occupied. But the pet boom has also created another trend: pets as markers of lifestyle and status.

The prestige of the pedigree

Walk into a pet shop in an affluent Indian neighbourhood and you will see a familiar set of breeds. Siberian huskies. Saint Bernards. Golden retrievers. Shih Tzus. French bulldogs. These dogs are not native to India’s climate. Huskies evolved in Arctic conditions. Saint Bernards were bred for alpine mountains. Yet they have become wildly popular in Indian cities. Why?Part of the answer lies in aspiration. Pedigree dogs carry an aura of global lifestyle — something imported, rare, and often expensive.

In some social circles, the breed of dog someone owns has quietly become another status indicator, much like a luxury car or designer handbag. This has fuelled a “pedigree obsession”. And social media has amplified the trend. Across Instagram, petfluencers are everywhere—dogs wearing sunglasses, cats sitting in strollers, puppies posing beside luxury apartments.

For many urban pet owners, animals are part of the curated life they present online.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this. But it can reduce pets to aesthetic objects—cute, photogenic, and highly visible symbols of lifestyle. When pets are treated primarily as props, the responsibilities of ownership can fade into the background. That is where problems begin. Also, this trend has sidelined Indian native breeds such as the Rajapalayam, Mudhol Hound, or Indian Pariah dog; all healthier, more climate-adapted, and easier to care for.

But the problem is they are rarely seen as fashionable.

The dark side of the pet boom

Animal welfare organisations across India report a worrying pattern. Many pedigree dogs are abandoned once they grow large, fall sick, or require expensive care. Some owners underestimate the time and energy dogs require—daily walks, training, grooming, and veterinary visits. Others struggle when life circumstances change: relocation, marriage, children, or housing restrictions.

During the COVID-19 lockdowns, India saw a surge in pet adoption as people sought companionship at home.

But animal shelters later reported a spike in abandoned pets once offices reopened and life returned to normal. The problem becomes even more troubling with climate-inappropriate breeds.Yet focusing only on status-driven pet ownership would ignore another powerful reality: India also has an extraordinary culture of grassroots animal care.

Across the country, thousands of individuals feed stray dogs daily, organise sterilisation drives, or rescue injured animals from roads. Most do this without institutional support. India’s animal welfare ecosystem—NGOs, rescuers, veterinarians and volunteers—has grown rapidly in the past decade.

Adoption campaigns encourage people to adopt Indian breeds rather than buying a breed not suited to Indian climes.However, it's not doom and gloom everywhere. India’s relationship with pets is also changing; slowly, but it is. Largely because India itself is changing. Urbanisation, smaller families, and rising incomes have made pet ownership more common than ever before. But with this shift comes a cultural adjustment. Historically, animals in India were often seen as part of the environment rather than part of the household.

Dogs guarded homes, cats controlled rodents, and cows lived in courtyards. The Western idea of pets as emotional companions is relatively new. As Indian society absorbs this idea, it is also negotiating the responsibilities that come with it. This transition is messy, uneven, and still unfolding. Ultimately, the difference between loving animals and displaying them lies in one simple factor: commitment. But perhaps the question—are Indians animal lovers or status-seekers?—is not really about animals at all. It’s about who we are, and about what kind of society we are becoming.