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Tamang, 57, has always been fond of dogs.

Two years ago, he was crushed when his wife told him a leopard killed his 10-year-old dog, Putle, in his home village, a six-hour drive from the capital. After mourning his faithful companion, he stumbled upon a rough-looking dog in a garage where he parks his cycle rickshaw.

It was love at first woof.

“He never leaves me alone,� Tamang says with a smile. “Living in this city, away from my family, Shyam has become my closest companion."

Shyam, a name for the Hindu god Krishna, goes to work with his human every day. When Tamang gets a passenger, Shyam trails behind the rickshaw, drawing smiles and pets from passersby. As soon as the ride is over and the fare paid, Tamang signals for the pooch to hop onto the rickshaw.

Now that it's peak summer, Shyam seeks shade beneath the rickshaw during the midday heat. “He gets oil stains from the chains, so I have to give him a bath,� Tamang says laughingly. “But he doesn’t like it, and we often get into a little fight over it.�

Tamang shares a small apartment with two other rickshaw drivers who accept Shyam’s constant presence.

The only time he is separated from his canine best friend is when he visits his village.

“Dogs are not allowed on public buses, so I have to leave him behind in the garage with a mechanic friend. It makes me sad,� Tamang says.

As the sun sets and the lights come on at the end of a long workday, Tamang's rickshaw slowly makes its way back with reliable Shyam following closely.

"He’s not just a dog, he’s my family.�

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This is a documentary photo story curated by AP photo editors.