Everyone thought that there was a special chemistry between Inspector Janardhanan and Victor, while the policemen who worked with them suspected that Victor had some secret connection to a power centre beyond that of the police camp. The policemen who took his food to his kennel, which was always left open, did so with trepidation as they believed his displeasure could cause major problems. Every time Victor made his appearance at the police camp, which was an exhibition centre of impotent masculinity, many of the policemen stood up in respectful embarrassment. Even those who had a sense of pride found themselves unconsciously shifting in their seats. A policeman who was nearing retirement had to salute Victor for almost a month as punishment, meted out by the inspector, for daring to speak up for a culprit of his acquaintance who was brought to the camp for questioning.

Inspector Janardhanan enjoyed watching animals mate, perhaps an interest he had inherited from his father who was a breeder of herd bulls and billy goats. He found a young German Shepherd female named Lilith for Victor. Lilith was a year and a half old in dog years—around eighteen years in human terms. Although Victor showed no interest in her, no one questioned his masculinity because they knew he was a special type of dog, one who had complete faith in the infallibility of his species.

When people heard about the arrival of a dog catcher, they expected a middle-aged, hairy man with big arm muscles and a strong body. But the four-member team of dog catchers, equipped with ropes and gunny sacks, was led by a fair-skinned young man who looked almost as handsome as the film star Prem Nazir. They set up camp at the church-owned lower primary school, which was closed for the holidays, and slept on makeshift beds of benches pulled together. During the day, they roamed the land with their nooses, with a sizeable chunk of the local population, including small children, following them. They deftly lassoed the dogs they came across, injected them with poison, and buried the dead dogs after cutting off their tails, which they saved in their gunny sacks. Egged on by the enthusiasm of the crowd, they made up reasons to catch even pet dogs that had been lovingly brought up by their owners. Their ultimate aim was to catch the troublesome and clever dog named Adam. Never before had their bosses received a complaint where a feral dog with no owner had been named specifically as the troublemaker.

Adam had been using his new-found freedom to make up for all the years of starvation. Pushing open their flimsy doors, he entered kitchens and scoffed the food, scared the hens off their roosts and ate them, and hunted small goats, pet rabbits and ducks like a wild predatory animal. Within a few days, true to his pedigree, he had grown into a massive dog that no one dared to accost.

Finally, after many days of fruitless search, the four-member dog catcher team received news that Adam was hiding in a small islet made up of a few coconut trees and shrubs in the middle of a field. ‘We’ll be done and on our way back tomorrow,’ they said. But that night, as they slept on the school veranda to escape the relentless heat, Adam and his friends set upon them, and by the time people heard the barks and screams and gathered with sticks and flaming torches, the dogs had done their job meticulously and were long gone. The four dog catchers were taken to the hospital in the nearby town. The handsome face of the young leader of the team was in tatters, his cheeks and ears shredded and his nose gone forever.