Attila By R.K. Narayan In the quiet town of Malgudi, the youngest son of a modest family wanted nothing more than a dog. He begged his father for weeks until, at last, the old man gave in. “All right,” he said with a sigh, “but get something fierce. I want a dog that makes thieves think twice before they touch our gate.” The boy ran off excitedly and returned with a large black puppy. He had long ears, sad eyes, and a soft body that didn’t look dangerous at all. The family stared at him in disbelief. “This is fierce?” the father muttered. “He will be!” the boy insisted. “I’ve named him Attila —after Attila the Hun!” Though the name was terrifying, the puppy was not. He grew fast, becoming tall and strong, with a bark that could rattle a window—but he never showed a hint of aggression. He wagged his tail at postmen, nuzzled strangers, and once even followed a beggar who had stolen the family umbrella, as if seeing him off. The father was furious. “Five rupees’ wo...