Olena is described to me as a military woman who is “crazy about animals”. “She used to serve in our unit, and she always had animals with her. She took a lot of them home to Kyiv,” her brother-in-arms tells me. When I contact her, I am filled with surprise. It turns out that she is the Olena Bilozerska, who has been inspiring many with her bravery since 2014. Olena is a former journalist and a blogger. She first served as a sharpshooter in the The Right Sector Ukrainian Volunteer Corps was founded on July 17, 2014, as one of the volunteer battalions. It was created as a response to the rise of pro-russian separatism and the russian intervention in Donbas. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Right Sector Ukrainian Volunteer Corps. Later, she joined Ukraine’s Armed Forces after completing artillery training.

She loves poetry and painting, and she always has companion animals by her side. Many of them were rescued by the soldiers, and taken out of the war zone.

I spoke with Olena about the animals that accompany her on the front line and away from it.

Dogs on the front line

Are there any animals on the front line?

Yes, I have many stories about that. The most dramatic one is about a Cane Corso dog named Vasia. His human was part of the 503rd Separate Marine Battalion, where I was stationed at the time. The dog accompanied this guy everywhere, even in the trenches on duty. The dog even carried some stuff. One day, Vasia vanished. Soldiers were searching for him. They raised the drone and discovered something they’d rather not see. Vasia got into a trap. He became entangled in the wire near the trenches. It was nearly impossible to save him since you couldn’t slip in unnoticed. The recon guys were planning to evacuate the dog at night, but they did not manage to do it…

Because Vasia came back! He chewed off his paw and ran back on his three. He did not want to stay in captivity. He was sent to his human’s parents, and then I made Vasia famous by writing about his fate. His story got a lot of publicity, everyone admired him. Eventually, he received treatment and a prosthetic at the best clinic in Poland.

Does it happen that animals help you in combat missions?

In the fall of 2014, an old dog came to us in the village of Vodiane near the Donetsk airport. He went with our recon group on all the trips to the gray zone. Of course, we didn’t want to take the dog with us, so we shushed him away. He ran away at first, but then somehow knew which way we were going and waited for us at some crossroads. This dog ended up helping us a lot. He ran 20 meters ahead of the group and removed the tripwires. A human would have been, at the very least, seriously injured, but the dog was fine, because he is short compared to a human and runs fast. When he heard the “pop” of the detonator capsule, he managed to escape from the area hit by the debris 3-4 seconds before the explosion. So everyone was safe, both people and the dog.

How Efka was exchanged for F-1 grenades

You have a lot of photos of a red puppy. What’s the story here?

That’s Efka, the Belgian Shepherd mix. My friend and I found her beneath a kiosk along the highway in the summer of 2016. The guys named her Efka because when she was a small, round puppy, she resembled an F-1 grenade in her body form.

She went with us to the battlefield and was wounded. We rescued her as we would a wounded soldier. We drove her to the hospital at night, got a vet out of bed, took care of her, changed her bandages, and gave her injections… When I went on military duty, Efka had to be on a leash so that she wouldn’t run after me.

One day I was lying sick at our base near Mariupol, and my husband left early in the morning to go to another city to run some errands. Efka followed him to the bus stop. There he got on the bus and left, and she stayed there. He was sure that she would return to the base by herself.

By the next morning, she was gone. My husband and I went to that bus stop, asked people, put up posters — half the city was covered with them. We bought a battery-powered loudspeaker to drive around in the car and play announcements about our missing Efka… She was found three days later. Realizing that she was not going to get home, she followed people in military uniform and came with them to the military base of the Azov brigade. They left her there, and then they saw the poster and brought her. Of course, they didn’t want any money, but I gave them a few F-1 grenades for taking care of my Efka.

The silver one, the whiny one and the artillery one

And what about your relationship with cats?

The very first cat I had was called Vatnik, also called Komochok or Komtsia, a black kitten with a short broken tail. He was named Vatnik because in 2014, all the animals picked up in the Donetsk region were named either “Separ” refers to russian separatist troops in Ukraine, namely in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions. They were also known as russian proxy forces. This term carries a negative meaning and is commonly used to convey outrage, condemnation, or disapproval. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Separ or The word "Vatnik" refers to avid supporters of russian propaganda. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Vatnik. He arrived at the rear base and then accompanied me everywhere, including several advance bases (a few kilometers from the front line). When I went on military missions, he remained at these bases. He didn’t want to let me leave. When he noticed me getting ready to go, he grabbed my legs and yelled. When we were under fire, he’d drag me to safety by my leg. He went with me through many very dangerous places, but died on peaceful territory. He died after catching a poisoned rat. The rest of my pets are luckily still alive. 

A few months after Efka, Silver, a kitten of the Neva Masquerade breed, appeared. A soldier found him somewhere, and we took him. He was a very smart cat, but he was also sick.

Another dog, Shkavulik, grew up with the cat. In early December, a stray dog brought puppies to our basement. All nine of these puppies got sick with enteritis. On New Year’s Eve, my room at the base turned into a dog hospital. We managed to save only four of them. I decided to keep the smallest puppy.

I named him Shkavulik (in Ukrainian, “the whiny one”) since he was constantly crying pitifully. Shkavulik grew up with Silver, they adopted each other’s behaviors. Silver growled and tried to bark, Shkavulik chased after mice… And when other people’s cats came into the yard, the trio would chase them away. Efka and Shkavulik would chase the bird into a tree, and then Silver would climb up to deal with it.

All three of them, big Efka (weighing 30 kg), Shkavulik, and Silver, slept with me in my bed. There were rugs, but they wanted to sleep with me, and it was impossible to keep them away.

It was very difficult to feed them, because we were unpaid volunteers who did not have salaries. It got to the point where we had to take the other two dogs that came to our base and give them to other soldiers who lived better than we did.

Later, while I was an artillerywoman in the Ukrainian Marine Corps, I discovered a three-colored cat on a training site near Melitopol. I named him Busol (or Busia). Busol literally means “artillery compass”. She traveled with me to Exercise Sea Breeze, and there, American marines wanted to get her from me and take her to their ship. Busia is a Maine Coon mix. She weighs 6-7 kilograms. She’s also a really picky lady. She lets you pet her only when she wants to.

When the full-scale invasion exploded, the dogs, Efka and Shkavulik, were living with my father-in-law in the Cherkasy region. The cats, Silver, Busia and Kasia, were living at my home in Kyiv. I sent them to my father-in-law as well. When the war is over, I will take them back. In the meantime, they are growing up and getting older without me.

What do cats write in secret chats?

How do other soldiers behave towards your animals?

They are mostly animal lovers. However, there are people with different household habits. One of my now deceased brother-in-arms, for example, was a clean freak. We used to sleep on mattresses on the floor, and my dogs would go on those mattresses with their dirty paws after the rain. So many guys were grumbling about that, especially the one that loved cleaning. The animals and I even had to relocate to a different home. It was a risky maneuver because everything was taking place in a village on the front line that was frequently bombarded by the russian troops.

Do cats and dogs disrupt your work?

No, not in combat missions because we don’t take them directly into battle. And if they are in the trenches with us, they sneak away when it gets hot, as if they are not present. But when you work on a laptop, not even the greatest cat bed can match the excitement of a keyboard for cats. Their life revolves around lying on the keyboard. No amount of treats will distract them from their laptop. They don’t just lie there; they type messages in secret military chats, such as “trrrrrrrr” and “aaaaaa”.

When the commander reads this, he asks, “Have you been drinking there, or what?”. And among those reading this, there will definitely be a soldier who knows what’s going on. He will write plainly, “That’s the cat”.

I have also stories of cats running somewhere at night, and you take your rifle with a thermal imaging scope and go “hunting” for your own cat.

Can an animal somehow improve your mood or the mood of the people around you?

Oh, they’re experts at this Simply petting a cat or a dog makes you feel better. You kiss the fluffy one or the plushie-looking one on the forehead, one of them licks you, and you feel like you have something to live for.

A woman in a uniform gets out of a car. “You are early,” she says to me. She’s got soft features but looks confident and even strict. Meet Pilla Osborn, a dog behaviorist and the chief administrator at an animal shelter in the city of Tartu, Estonia. 

You can’t hear barking in the parking lot, as it would be in Ukraine. You can’t really tell that there are dogs’ enclosures behind the fence. The entrance is a clean glass door. To get inside, one has to call the administrator first. Usually, Pilla comes and brings a guest inside the shelter. 

Don’t you think that it’s easy to get an animal if you come to adopt! First, you have to pass Pilla’s test. 

Pilla Osborn told UAnimals media about the life of Estonian shelters, whether they rely on charitable donations, and how cat Tikku found a new family. She also explained why it’s not always easy to take good photos with friendly cats and what you need to do to adopt an animal from an Estonian shelter.

Stray animals in Estonia: 3 animal catchers for half of a country 

Is there a problem with stray animals in Estonia? 

Not so much with dogs. Most dogs have their people. Right now, basically, all the dogs in our shelter came from their owners, who gave them to us. But there is a problem with cats. We are doing a lot of spaying here, and we promote spaying and neutering. But we don’t see any dropping of levels that way. Somehow there are still cats wandering in the fields, countryside, bringing tons of young ones. All these animals end up here.

Who brings cats to the shelter? 

People are calling us when there is a situation. These cats are not friendly. If they get feral for a couple of generations, people usually can’t catch them. This is an animal catcher’s job. 

We use the traps for that. We haven’t used an animal capture gun for 7 years for sure. The gun works with dogs. You can’t use it with cats. Besides, we need to have a veterinarian. You have to guess the dog’s weight to know how much medication to put in that gun. The animal is far away from you. How much does it weigh? You can approximate, but you can’t know for sure. So it’s a life-and-death situation. Maybe you hit the animal in the wrong place. Maybe you put in too much of that medication. Because of that, we don’t use it at all. We do have one gun here, though.

What happens after you receive a call? 

We want to know everything from the person who called us: When they saw the animal, how often, and where the animal usually goes. That is so we can plan out catching ways or time. 

So animal catchers go on long trips to cover several places at once?

Yes, exactly. We have a schedule for that. Earlier calls get responded to earlier, and so on. The catchers work every day, and not just in Tartu. Every county needs to deal with the problem of stray animals, so they need to hire some shelter to do the work for them. Our shelter is prominent in Tartu County, but we are hired by half of the counties in Estonia. We have 3 catchers.

3 catchers for half of Estonia?

Exactly! We plan a lot. Even if the animal catcher is in a faraway county, we need to cover Tartu city first. We must respond to Tartu city calls in one hour because we have a contract with the city. 

Shelters in Estonia: How Do They Work?  

What happens to a cat when it comes to the shelter?

First, we have to see if the animal has a microchip. If so, we can call the owner immediately. They can come to pick the cat up. In Estonia, we can’t have any animals walking outside by themselves. If that is the case, we need to talk with the owner. That would be the best situation. 

If there’s no chip, we take pictures. We put it up on our webpage, and for the first 14 days, we need to wait for the previous owner to notice that animal on our webpage. By law, we need to keep the animal here for 14 days. 

A cat lives in a cage. Cats need to feel that no other cat can come into their territory. But the territory is small. It’s just that cage.

After 14 days, the cortisol levels are dropping. Cats get used to a cage life and surroundings, so they are not acting in defensive aggression. 

We have different rooms for cats. At first, they are in a quarantine room. If the cat doesn’t have a microchip, a veterinarian comes here and does the procedures: vaccinations, dewormer, and flea medication. After 14 days, if the cat is friendly and happy, it goes to get spaying/neutering in the clinic. 

The clinic needs to make sure that the cat doesn’t have FIV (feline immunodeficiency virus), which is like HIV for people. For that, they are taking blood. 

If the animal has FIV, this means euthanasia. Lots of stray cats in Estonia have that. Cats get it through bites in catfights. We don’t have any cure for that. On average a cat lives 6 to 7 years after that bite. It’s contagious to other cats. When the disease progresses, organs shut down one by one. With the blood test, you can say if it has it, but you can’t say how long it has had it. Before everything goes bad, we think it’s humane to do euthanasia.

If the cat doesn’t have the disease, we come and collect it. Then the animal is waiting for adoption. 

Dogs that had an owner, do not need all the veterinary procedures. The only thing is that we still have to wait 14 days, and then the dog can live in a shelter in a kennel until possible adoption. We have volunteers coming to walk the dogs. There’s volunteer schooling once a month.

How many animals are there in the shelter now?

Right now, we have 33 dogs, and the cats … exactly 100. So that’s 133 animals.

Is your shelter considered to be small or big in Estonia? 

I have no idea about other shelters. We are very transparent, but I know shelters that don’t even let you in. It’s hard to get the information. 

Who owns the shelter? 

Tartu City does. This is a municipal shelter.

Are there private shelters in Estonia?

There are some private shelters popping up here and there. People are trying to do the same thing we do in their living rooms. It’s not really in the law, what is a shelter and what isn’t. So any activist can start saving animals, hoping for donations. 

Was this place designed as a shelter?

Yes, it was. We have worked here since 2006. This building that we are in right now is a year old. Before that, we had a 4 square meters office here, which wasn’t built as a shelter. The city actually built that house.

Does a vet or a nurse work here?  

We have contracts with 2 veterinarians. One comes once a day. An animal caretaker from the shelter helps instead of a nurse. 

Do you receive donations?

We do need donations. The city does not pay for spaying and neutering. Donations are very important for veterinary care. My paycheck is from the government. The city needs to provide money for each animal for 14 days, and then we are all alone. This is when donations come in.

Who usually donates?

Ordinary people, who see our work and the passion that we are doing it with. 

Do you organize any fundraising campaigns? 

No, we feel really bad about it because everybody else is gathering money, mostly these independent pop-ups. They are also exploiting animals that are really sick. For example, an animal needs a heart transplant. It has to pull human strings. We believe that people are getting tired of all those “help me” things. So we try not to do that at all. We want to provide the best life for animals here, the best service to the community. We try to get specialists who want to learn more. So people see it all and donate with free will. And we try to make tomorrow a better day than yesterday was.

A Look Inside: Unneighbourly Dogs and Individualistic Cats

To get to the courtyard, we pass the staff room. The girls are having lunch, and next to them, there is a big red dog. They decided to give him some individual attention. He comes and licks me.

Each dog has a kennel in the yard. Pilla explains the nuances of choosing how to fit the dogs next to each other.

 “They live separately but the communication is still intense. So we have to see who fits next to whom.”

I know that time is of the essence here, so I move quickly. At one point, I start running with a camera to take a picture of a dog.

“Never, never run in a shelter!” Pilla stops me sternly.

Next, we go to the cat house. There are two rooms: one with larger cages and another with smaller cages. The one with the smaller cages houses cats following surgery. The other features a larger two-story residence.  

“Each cage is divided into two floors. Upstairs is the space for living and resting, and downstairs is the kitchen and the toilet in the other corner. Although the cage is relatively small, the cat feels safe, because no other cat will enter the territory. Only one cage is cleaned at a time. The cat is out for a little walk through the room. Usually, the cats jump on the windowsill and watch what the dogs are doing outside.”

Each cage has a card with a name and different markings. “On a diet” is written on one.

“Each card has a number on it. It’s an animal’s serial number. It indicates when the animal came to the shelter. We also often write ‘reserved’ here. It means that someone has already decided to take the animal home.”

I try to take pictures of the residents of the shelter in Tartu, but the cats turn away.

“The camera is like a big eye looking at them. So they can be uncomfortable. Friendly cats, shy cats would turn around and hide, but aggressive cats would stare at it and kind of attack it. So there are usually better pictures with aggressive cats.”

Next to the room with the cages, there is also a separate room with a cat den and photos of tigers on the walls. One or two cats who have been in the shelter the longest live here. The previous resident has just moved out, so now the next one is moving in, the one on a diet.

The kittens have a separate house. At the entrance, there is a sanitizer for both feet and hands. However, the kittens are not touched so that they do not catch diseases. On the wall, there is a board with kittens’ names and flags pinned to it. The kitty with the blue flag is sick, and the one with the yellow flag needs medication.

“I am a professional in dogs’ behavior,” Pilla says, “but I am an enthusiast in cat psychology. I am excited about them, and I even take work home! We have lots of kittens, and they are feral. I take kittens home to socialize them so they have individual attention, and I can turn them friendly so that they can find homes better. But I don’t get paid for that at all.”

How does your family react?

I have a dog and a cat. And I have a husband. My husband thought that he had not liked cats at all when we got married. That was 9 years ago. And now he is asking me, “Hey, which one are you bringing home tomorrow?” He is working from home. So I need to train him to train the kittens.

Tikku is leaving for a new home 

As we talk, an elderly couple comes to the office with a pet carrier. A big furry cat sits inside. 

Pilla makes some notes.

“This cat’s name is Tikku. He has been living with us for the longest time, since my birthday on November 26. He lived in a separate room.”

There were 2 outside cats in a summer home, Tikku and Takku. Both were brought here. People took them into an apartment. There they had a female cat. Catfights started happening because the people didn’t do the introduction perfectly. Fighting over the female cat, Takku got beaten up by Tikku, who’s a really big cat. The people didn’t want to deal with the fights. Today Tikku goes to a new home. The couple takes him. They have had cats before. It’s not their first visit here. If you want an animal, you have to come here multiple times to get to know each other.

Is that a rule?

Yes. From an animal’s point of view, it’s important. They haven’t been in your place, so it would be best if they knew you ahead. In that way they have a comfort person already. That is animal psychology that we are learning a lot about.

How does it work if someone wants to adopt an animal?

They come on visiting hours and tell us what cat or dog they are interested in. I’m walking with every person so I can read their energy and the animal’s energy and say if it is a good or a bad idea. I want to know everything about them. We can ask if they want an outside cat. Then we can say, “I’m sorry, we don’t give cats outside. It works the other way: We are taking cats from the streets.” I ask if they have other animals at home. There are some cats who don’t tolerate any other animals. They think they are the only cat on Earth. Maybe that cat is not right for you then. Do you have little kids at home? What is your daily schedule? How much time can you have with this animal? How can you help this animal to socialize better? When we put up dogs for adoption, sometimes there are several candidates. We even decide who will take the dog. It’s a lot of paperwork. But with cats, there’s nothing like that. Many people don’t want to deal with problems and just bring them back.                  

Does it happen that people return animals?

Exactly, for whatever reason. Taking an animal is not a fairytale. You need to go to the dog school. You need to be financially in a good place. You need to think about 15 years of the dog’s life being with you, not just take this puppy at random. Or giving animals as gifts. We don’t approve of it here.

When you handed Tikku over, you crossed something out on a piece of paper over there, on the wall. It looks like a detective board! 

We do an advertisement on our webpage. We put pictures there, and Tikku’s picture had been there for the longest time. Since they have been there for so long, we promote them to get to new homes. We know more about them, and we make little stories about them. Maybe people can see something that pulls at their heartstrings and think, “This cat is for me.” I’m crossing over whoever goes home.

It seems to me that everyone is crossed out, right?

Not yet, but most of the cats are! 

This should have been a place filled with children’s laughter, the sound of a ball bouncing on the floor, and the teacher’s whistle stopping running exercises. Instead, for four consecutive days, veterinary consultations, procedures, and surgeries were taking place here. This is a school gymnasium in Vozdvyzhivska hromada (a basic unit of administrative division in Ukraine), where the UAnimals team temporarily set up a “veterinary clinic”. 

Medical help is provided not only to stray cats and dogs but also to animals from local residents. People from the hromada bring their pets for check-ups and consultations.

Roman Bidnenko, an animal catcher, is responsible for catching as many stray animals as the vets can provide medical care for. Moreover, during this mission, Roman managed to find a family for some stray puppies.

The family adopted the puppy after she was spayed, treated for parasites, vaccinated, and microchipped. This medical help was provided to all animals that came into the UAnimals “veterinary clinic” set up in the school gymnasium. The only exceptions were tiny kittens and puppies that were too young to get spayed or neutered. 

Some animals require treatment, and others need surgery.

In total, 379 animals received medical help.

The grumpy hen Baba Zina, the dogs Romka and Hraf, Mike and Gina, the pig Dusia, and the goat Marta live in shelters or with families across Ukraine. Most likely, these, and thousands of others, animals would not have survived if they hadn’t been taken in, evacuated, or treated in time by the people honored by UAnimals at the Animal Protection Award. 

These people experience every layer of society’s attitude toward animals on a daily basis. They know how often indifference is intertwined with compassion in the story of an animal.

We asked them about the moments that left the strongest impressions on them, and here’s what they’ve told us.

“No one expected he would survive” 

Anastasiia Klimniuk, the founder and the head of Animal House Rescue NGO

Kharkiv/Poltava region

This memory is from February 26, 2022. Animal food was hard to come by in Kharkiv. You couldn’t buy natural food, and all pet stores were closed. A warehouse with pet supplies opened in a garage. We were in a queue for dog food with 60 other people. It was a moment I’ll never forget. A man approached us with a cat in a carrier. His house had been destroyed, his wife had evacuated. He decided to go defend the country and had nowhere to leave the cat. He asked the people if anyone could take the cat in. No one responded. My husband and I exchanged glances and almost instantly decided to take the cat. That’s how we started taking in animals.

Later, we found out that the cat belonged to that man’s son. He and his wife had just had a baby, who was just two weeks old when the war began. So they decided to leave the cat with the grandparents for a month. When the man came to that line, the young parents were under russian occupation. Later, I received a message from them asking, “Do you still have our cat by any chance?” They sent me a photo of him as a kitten. So when we took him in, he was still very young. In 2022, the cat returned to his family.

There are examples of very caring attitudes toward animals in our area. Once, people saw a German shepherd lying near their yard. At first, they thought the dog was dead since he didn’t even move his ears. Eventually, they realized the dog was breathing. The people contacted us, and we took the animal to a veterinary clinic. There was very little hope of him surviving. The dog had no sensitivity in his body at all. An MRI showed a dislocation in his cervical spine.

When we picked the dog up at the clinic, he was already eating and going to the toilet on his own. The people who found him agreed to take in the dog with a disability and care for him. They named him Hraf. Now he can crawl, lie in a sphinx pose, and sit up for about 40 seconds, and he doesn’t need anyone’s help to eat. They built a wheelchair-like device so he is able to move around.

She fled on foot with a child and a puppy from shelling 

Olena Rusina, the head of Pegasus shelter

Malozakharyne, Dnipropetrovsk region

Recently, we were asked to go to a village because there was a large injured dog there. He had just appeared on the streets, even wearing a collar, but no one knew where he came from.

Local elderly women noticed him. These weren’t young people, skilled at using the Internet, yet they still tried to post his photo on social media to look for his family. The women even chipped in to buy parasite treatments for the dog.

We got a call after he got into a fight with another dog. We arrived and were met by these women, all with canes. These were civilized people who didn’t abandon the animal. They didn’t say, as often happens, “The dog’s lying around somewhere, go find him yourselves.” They followed our car, led us to the exact spot where the dog was. They cared for us, the volunteers. That was very heartwarming. The dog is still being treated and now lives at Pegasus shleter.

There was also a case when the offensive on Vovchansk began. Some people even fled on foot. A woman contacted us, asking if we could help provide shelter for a puppy. We didn’t want to, as our shelter was overcrowded. But it turned out this young woman was fleeing shelling on foot. She only took her child in a stroller. Just imagine the state she was in at that time! On the road, she saw a small, exhausted puppy. He was in the same circumstances as she was. The woman picked up the puppy and placed him at the bottom of the stroller! 

She made it to Dnipro, but didn’t abandon the puppy in the city. Then she contacted us, saying, “What do I do with a puppy and a child?” I posted the story on social media, and a family immediately responded and adopted the dog.

“Forgive me, Mike”

Serhii Ludenskyi, the founder and the head of Save Animals Ukraine NGO

Dnipro

Not long ago, I was asked to evacuate two Rottweilers from the frontline village of Oleksandropil in the Donetsk region. An elderly man was still living there, with a granddaughter waiting for him in Poland. The only issue was the dogs: two Rottweilers, 7-year-old Mike and 5-year-old Gina, lived in his yard. Traveling with such large dogs would have been difficult for the elderly man. It was because of them that he hadn’t left.

On the day of the evacuation, the elderly man arrived at his yard by bicycle. He had come from a small neighboring village, which was hit less often by artillery. A field behind his house was burning after a strike. All of this was happening under the thunderous sound of artillery.

The most heartbreaking moment was the man’s goodbye to his dogs. He hugged Mike’s head and said, “Forgive me, Mike. I have no choice.”

That video on my TikTok got a million views. I think many Ukrainians could relate to that pain.

We knew that Mike was aggressive. I had to climb onto the roof of the van and pull him up by the leash to get him inside.

The elderly man asked us to leave quickly, to avoid prolonging the goodbyes. So we did.

We brought the dogs to our shelter near Dnipro. It turned out that Mike was only aggressive toward other dogs. Both Rottweilers were soon taken in by lovely families. I’m very happy there are people who don’t abandon animals and others who are willing to take them in.

Two skeletons on chains

Tetiana Nelha, the founder of Zoofamily charity fund and shelter 

Pavlysh, Kirovohrad region

I always see both sides of the coin in how people treat animals, and it shocks me. I look at the soldiers, the rescuers who evacuate animals from combat zones while risking their own lives. They’re amazing. On the other hand, there are people in our area who don’t sterilize their pets, who cruelly dispose of puppies and kittens in trash bags at garbage dumps or in treelines. Some head into shelling to save animals; others kill them.

In our area there were people who would frequently leave their homes, abandoning their animals in chains and not feeding them. By law, we don’t have the right to enter someone else’s yard and take the animals. We had to push to get the police to go in with us and remove the dogs from their chains. These were already two skeletons. There’s currently an investigation against those people, so I can’t say more. I took the animals for treatment and rehabilitation at Zoofamily.

When a vet becomes an animal volunteer

Aliona Hrinnyk, the founder of Give a Paw YU NGO

Pivdennoukrainsk, Mykolaiv region

One day the phone rang, “Hello, I’m a veterinarian. I googled ‘volunteers Pivdennoukrainsk,’ and your number came up right away. I want to be useful, by giving advice at the very least.” It was Oleksandr Sokolov, who had relocated from Enerhodar. We met, and I immediately invited him to join our sterlization projects.

Before that, I had rented a house in the neighboring village of Kostiantynivka for animals to be housed temporarily. Well, calling it a house is generous; it was falling apart. There were walls, piles of trash, and grass up to our waists. My husband, my father, and I started fixing it up. People helped. Someone brought a bucket, someone brought a broom. A few volunteers came to clear weeds. We made sure the house was in order and set up a temporary place for animals to stay in. 

When Oleksandr arrived, with other volunteers, we chipped in to buy thread, anesthesia, and to set up an operating room. We began sterilizing stray cats and dogs there.

Time passed. I changed jobs, and our financial situation improved. We invested money, and in September 2024, we opened a clinic in the city.

There, we treat pets for a fee — to help strays, you need resources. Soldiers and internally displaced persons get discounts; some even get treatment free of charge. If an elderly woman comes with a pet, we treat it at a discount or free of charge. Plus, we do free spaying only of female cats so far. Our city has a shelter. By agreement, we operate on their dogs. Sometimes animals are brought in for treatment and we don’t charge for that. For strays under care of volunteers, we only charge the cost of materials.

We run campaigns for the free sterilization of strays. Our city is small, and there are more animals here than people. So we focus on sterilization. 

That village house now serves as a post-op recovery space and houses animals with disabilities. And Oleksandr Sokolov still works with me at the clinic.

“It wasn’t the shelling that killed them, it was hunger”

Alina Ostapenko, a member of Sumy Animal Home 

Sumy

I hardly remember life before the war. February 24, 2022, was a turning point in my mind. That’s when my real test as an animal rights defender began. It seemed that after the liberation of the Sumy region, life should have gotten easier, but then came the shelling of border areas and mandatory evacuations.

A year ago, in Yunakivka, a border village in the Sumy region, a local woman found eight dead dogs in different yards. It wasn’t the shelling that killed them, it was hunger. Most of the animals remained chained up until they died, unable to find even a scrap of food. All of them had been left there by people.

We had to go there to save the chained-up animals. On our first trip to the border area, we evacuated two dogs, Bruno and Alex, from Yunakivka.

Bruno’s survival was nothing but a miracle. We found him tied up in a yard where two other dogs already lay lifeless. Alex survived by eating raw corn.

After Alex and Bruno, we evacuated around 15 more dogs from Yunakivka.

Bruno is now at the shelter, and we’re still looking for a home for him. Alex found a loving family last year.

After meeting these dogs, we began actively evacuating animals from the border areas. Few people wanted to go to the villages of the Sumy region, so I decided to learn how to drive. That’s how a new chapter of spending weeks in remote shelled corners of the region began. Sadly, we couldn’t save them all.

In three years, we’ve found homes for about a thousand animals. No more abandoned animals is the result I strive for.

Neighbors so unalike

Olha Volkova, the head of Soul of a Tramp shelter 

Lupareve, Mykolaiv region 

This happened in the village of Lymany, before my trip to the Animal Protection Award. There, one woman poisoned about 20 dogs.

An acquaintance came to me and said, “Imagine, Olia, while you’re saving animals, this woman asked me, ‘Are you going to the city? Then buy me some rat poison, I didn’t have enough. I’ll poison the dogs.’” When I heard that, I went to the village. But the dogs were already dead, I couldn’t do anything. I saw the woman who poisoned them. I asked if she didn’t feel sorry for the dogs. She replied, “No. I poisoned them, and I’ll keep poisoning them.”

Olha has passed her testimony to the legal department of UAnimals and hopes to bring that woman to justice.

Roman Oleksandrovych, Baba Zina, Dusia, and the others

Viktoriia Zhydkova, the founder of Virnist animal protection society and of Human Rights Initiative NGO

Dobropillia, Donetsk region

In August 2019, my husband went to take out the trash. There was a bag with puppies in the dumpster. Only one was still alive, it was just two hours old. That’s when our fight for its life began. My husband made a special box for the puppy, basically, an artificial mom. We fed it by the clock, woke up at night. One time, my husband suddenly yelled, “Come here!” I thought something bad had happened. I came over and the puppy had opened the eyes. I’ve never seen my husband so happy. And now that dog is our famous Roman Oleksandrovych. Little Roma.

Another real act of humanity was when a whole chain of kindness worked together to rescue a farm in Udachne. I’m a vegetarian, and it was essential to me to save the farm, not to slaughter the animals. I wanted to create a shelter that would take in farm animals, and I shared the idea on social media.

That’s when a man from Udachne called me. He had a small farm. I must’ve asked him ten times, “Are you going to eat the animals?” He said no, and that their goose was 15 years old, the goats were 17…

Many people were involved in the farm’s evacuation. And now the animals from Udachne live at my shelter. We have Dusia the pig, who gives you her paw. There’s Marta the goat, she always greets you, bleats in her own way, and stretches out her front leg. There’s a chicken we call Baba Zina because she’s always grumpy. The moment you walk into the coop, she clucks as if to say, “You’re walking wrong, standing wrong, doing everything wrong.” Her beak won’t ever close. 

Kolia and the puppies 

Inna Borodulia — founder and the head of Happy Cat CSO

Zaporizhzhia

I work closely with a soldier named Slavik. He has evacuated a large number of animals and finds people to take them out of the combat zone. He pays for sterilization and treatment out of his own pocket. I’m actually about to head out to vaccinate puppies where he’s stationed. I’d love to take them all to the shelter, but that’s just not possible. To me, he’s a human with a capital H.

But I have another hero. Kolia, a tall, easy-going guy who works at a factory. Honestly, at first, I thought he wasn’t the brightest. But things aren’t always what they seem at first glance. The summer before last, Kolia found newborn puppies in a dumpster. Not afraid of the challenge, he took them in and raised them. All by himself! And this while working shifts at a demanding job! Every one of those puppies survived. He found homes for them all and kept one for himself. Ever since, I tell him, “Kolia, you’re my hero.”

***

After receiving their awards, the winners of the Animal Protection Award are quick to step out of the spotlight and return to their animals. At home, they change back into work clothes and roll up their sleeves. For three years of full-scale war, these people have been taking in dogs and cats, farm and wild animals, those evacuated from the front line or nearby areas, and sometimes they evacuate them on their own. That’s hundreds, sometimes thousands, of new animals each year. Animals keep arriving because the war continues. However, we can at least make sure these animal defenders don’t have even more work because of abandoned and mistreated pets left behind in safer regions of Ukraine.

“All night, I packed every crevice of the car with supplies and dog food. I was afraid to close the door in case it made too much noise. Outside, there was the crackle [of gunfire] and machine-gun bursts.” This is how Maryna from Kherson, the owner of eight dogs, prepared to leave the occupied territory. She had no intention of abandoning any of her animals.

NGOs often retrieve pets left behind by their owners in frontline areas — sometimes still tied up. Yet, some people are capable of heroic feats to keep their animals fed during the occupation and ensure they’re brought along when escaping. Which cases are more common? We can’t quantify it, but we can share a few stories of people who evacuated with their pets.

Escaping Occupation with Eight Dogs

A house in northern Portugal near a eucalyptus forest. Not long ago, it was uninhabitable, but Maryna Skrypnychenko and her husband have already made significant repairs. Their first task was fencing the yard to prevent their dogs — Yolkin, Yozhyk, Yoryk, Martyska, Mukha, Motya, Mysha, and Chucha — from running off. All of these dogs were once strays roaming around the outskirts of Kherson. One by one, Maryna took them in. But when the occupation began, her home city turned into a living hell. For her own safety, she needed to leave. With eight dogs, though? Here is how she did it.

A House Outside the City

We had a large, beautiful home near Kherson on the banks of the Inhulets River. I organized yoga seminars and art plein-airs there. It was truly a bright, welcoming place. This winter, it served as a shelter for our soldiers.

Recently, we learned that our home no longer exists: it took a direct hit and burned down.

Living on the outskirts of the city, I often saw packs of stray puppies, and I would take in the weakest ones. I first adopted one dog, then another, and eventually, I ended up with eight. My husband built them kennels and enclosures, and they had everything they needed.

A Month in the Basement

When the war began, russian forces immediately entered Kherson. My husband, a sailor, was away on a voyage. I took my mother from Kherson, thinking it would be safer outside the city. But on the very first day, we had to move into the basement. We didn’t know it yet, but missiles and drones were already overhead… And so we spent a month in that basement with the dogs.

They reacted badly to everything. They were terrified of explosions and still hate loud noises to this day.

About a week into the occupation, I saw russian paratroopers — they seemed to emerge from the ground. In full gear — it looked like something out of a movie! One of them asked, “Why haven’t you left?” I was too scared to respond. Then he said, “Get back in the basement and stay there.”

Neighbors gave me some fish, which I boiled and fed to my dogs, both the house pets and the strays outside. Now, my dogs refuse to eat fish at all.

Sometimes, I would go to a neighbor for eggs. Once, I pretended to be going for eggs again but actually went to spray-paint something on a garage. I called a friend to talk with me on the phone — if they shot me, at least she’d hear it. My first canister ran out, so I pulled out another and finished writing: “russians, go f*** yourselves.”

The Departure

The invaders had taken vehicles from everyone in the area. My car survived only because the garage was part of the house, and they hadn’t realized it was there. But if I wanted to leave, I’d need to get the car out without drawing attention. I hesitated for fear they’d seize it, as they had others.

A friend found a farmer who was trying to protect his fields and had managed to negotiate a work permit with them. He called and told me, “Be ready.” All night, I packed every crevice of the car with supplies and dog food. I was afraid to close the door in case it made too much noise. Outside, there was the crackle [of gunfire] and machine-gun bursts. Who or what they were shooting at, I had no idea.

Around six in the morning, the farmer called again, “Pull out of the garage but don’t open the gate. Wait until you see an armored vehicle with the letter Z, then open it.”

The farmer somehow persuaded the invaders to send an armored vehicle to the dacha [summer house] neighborhood, supposedly to “pacify” the soldiers who were causing destruction everywhere. When the personnel carrier arrived on my street, he called again, “Go now.”

By then, I had collected all eight dogs. Half of them had never been inside a car before. I stuffed them in, layered blankets on the back seat, and my mother lay across them because there was no room to sit. The dogs, frightened, sat still and quiet.

It was “fun”… I drove through twelve invader checkpoints! At each one, the soldiers inspected the cars. As I approached a checkpoint, I rolled down the windows. Eight snouts would immediately stick out, and the invaders would just say, “Get the f**k out of here.”

I reached Kherson. By a supermarket, women with children would gather each day in cars to form a convoy — it was less frightening to travel together. I joined the convoy. As soon as we left Kherson, we got stuck; a battle was underway, so we couldn’t move. There were about 200–300 cars, full of children and dogs… Eventually, the entire convoy turned back.

But I thought, “To hell with it. If I die, so be it.” And I went on.

It took us twelve hours to reach Koblevo — a drive that would normally take two and a half hours.

The dogs sat quietly like mice in the car. Only in Koblevo did I let them out for the first time… But I was still scared; there were explosions even there. Well, it was insane. No romance to it at all!

To Portugal With Plywood for a Window

At the customs checkpoint on the Romanian border, I rolled down the window and got out. Two of the dogs immediately jumped out. We had already been waiting in line for 3–4 hours. People were bored, so my chasing after the dogs entertained everyone, and at least we got a bit of exercise.

In Romania, I was met by so many volunteers! When they saw the animals, they started taking pictures and giving me food for them… I told them I had no space left to carry it. “Take it anyway!” It moved me to tears, I still remember it.

The first night, I planned to sleep outdoors. I set out eight bowls for the dogs, but the police came over, asked me not to sleep outside, and escorted us to a hotel. There, in the restaurant, they moved all the furniture, laid out mattresses, and set up beds for refugees.

I thought, “If anyone makes a sound, all eight dogs will start barking…” So I decided to sleep in the car near the hotel. I started the engine to charge my phone, then someone came over, and I got distracted and stepped out. The car had a button on the armrest that locked the doors. The dogs pressed it, locking themselves inside a running car! Until four in the morning, I tried to coax them to press the button again, but nothing worked. Finally, the volunteers broke a window so I could climb in. I patched it with plywood and continued across Europe.

Since then, the dogs have refused to get into a car. I don’t force them.

I remember sitting in that basement when my husband called and said, “I can’t live in a world without you.” That gave me the strength to leave. If they kill me, then so be it, but hiding in the basement, trembling, and waiting for them to come for me was too much. So, I gathered everyone and started the car…

Our home is gone, but the animals are safe. I’m happy that all our dogs are still with us. 

Six People, Five Dogs, Four Cats, and a Turtle

A family from Selydove in the Donetsk region is a large family with quite a lot of pets. Sviatoslav Torkhov worked in the mines while his wife Yuliya raised their three children: Oleksandr, Artem, and Alla. Yuliya’s mother lived nearby. This summer, they were forced to make drastic changes to their lives.

After the Airstrike

Yuliya: On June 23, there were two strikes on our town. Around 4 a.m., a shell hit the garden. Our roof only had some tiles slide off, and parts of the ceiling collapsed. It was still fixable, so we started repairs. My husband was on the roof, and the children, my mother, and I — with the dogs — were in the yard. At 5 p.m., there was another strike, this time hitting just beyond our yard. The windows shattered, and the ceiling collapsed. My husband fell from the roof, sustaining head and rib injuries. We were standing below, shielded from the debris by the garage, but all of us suffered concussions. The news said it was an aerial bomb, though we don’t know exactly what kind.

Our dog Stitch hid with us behind the garage while his mother, an Alabai named Lavyna, was near the fence with her little puppy, Misha. From a distance after the blast, I saw Lavyna lying there. I was afraid to approach, thinking she might be dead. But then the rescue workers checked on my husband and asked, “Would you like to check on your dog?” I finally went over and realized she was still breathing.

I called her name, “Lavyna, Lavyna,” and began petting her. She had hidden her puppy beneath her. She was badly concussed but had no other injuries and gradually started to come around.

Then, we began considering where to relocate and started searching for a place to live. We traveled a lot, and it was heartbreaking to make the animals wait for us for so long each time we left.

Aside from Lavyna and her puppies, we also have Stella, a mixed breed, and Nora, a shepherd dog, plus four cats — Busya, the Scottish Fold, Alisa, and her kittens, Borysych and Bagheera. And there’s also Burger the turtle.

Finding a way to transport all of them was a real challenge.

Sviatoslav: Finally, we found a contact for UAnimals and arranged for help transporting the animals. Volunteers Mariya Holovina and Andriy Zhdanov came. We remember them fondly to this day.

They prepared crates and laid hay in the car. I placed the animals in the crates, and Mariya and Andriy helped get them into the car. The animals didn’t whimper or try to escape — it was as if they understood everything would be okay.

In Petropavlivka

Sviatoslav: Few places allow families with children to stay, let alone with pets! With our large family, it was tough to rent a place where we could live with both kids and dogs.

I’m a miner, so we needed to be close to a mine. We finally found such a place.

Yuliya: We moved to Petropavlivka in the Dnipropetrovsk region. I arrived three days early to settle in and prepare to welcome the animals. I waited for them and settled them all in. Now they’re doing well.

The cats, who always lived in our trees, are still up in the trees. Lavyna adores our children but barks at strangers. If she runs outside, she won’t harm anyone, but people are still afraid of her — she’s huge. So she stays in an enclosure.

Stitch also wanted to run around freely and couldn’t be made to stay in one spot, so we had to add him to the enclosure. Still, the dogs found a way to sneak out to the yard.

Nora, the shepherd, is also a guard dog but is attached to us, having been with us since she was a puppy. Stella, an older dog, will give you her paw if you approach her — she loves attention.

How could we abandon them? We love them and didn’t bring them into our lives just to leave them behind. That thought never even crossed our minds.

Sviatoslav: Soon, we’ll bring my mother-in-law here; she’s still in Selydove. Then our family will be even larger. If you’re in a similar situation, don’t give up. Take your pets with you since pets are family members.

The Cat Who Celebrated Kherson’s Liberation

Yevheniya Akubekova lives in Kherson. Before the full-scale invasion, she worked as a cashier in a shopping mall. When the full-scale war began, the mall was destroyed, and she lost her job. Yevheniya had two cats, and just before February 24, 2022, she gained a third — the cat was left temporarily by her sister, who went to work in Poland. As it turned out, all three cats weren’t afraid of water: they traveled by boat and even went fishing. Yevheniya shared her experience of moving from place to place with her three cats.

The Start of the Occupation

We had two cats — Zoya and Varyushka — and in 2022, we also had my sister’s cat, Joey. He stayed with us through the war and occupation but is now back with my sister.

When Kherson was occupied, my husband and I didn’t leave the house for two weeks. Then, the cat food ran out, and our human food supplies were also running low. I was baking bread at home, but we were out of oil and sugar. So, we started going out to buy food. On April 9, we left for our dacha.

The left bank of the Dnipro is dotted with river channels and dachas on islands. We stayed there up until December 5. We planted a garden and caught fish. There was no electricity in the city, but we had it at the dacha.

The cats were terrified of the shelling. They still get scared and hide. It was horrifying when the orc [russian] planes flew overhead to bomb us. They flew so low, right above the power lines. The poor cats didn’t know where to run, and neither did we, crouching down in fear. I called for the cats, but they were panicked. When they heard a plane approaching from afar, they would dart inside the house.

Apart from that, the cats had a wonderful time there. My husband would fish and feed both our cats and the neighboring ones. The price of pet food skyrocketed. At first, locals raised prices on the remaining supplies, then the russians brought in more and sold it at triple the price.

Our biggest softie is Joey. He is affectionate and friendly. He followed me all over the island; everyone knew he was my cat. Liza was a stout little thing, bustling around chasing snakes and mice, getting leaner and more agile. Varya, the oldest, loved sitting in the attic — she had her own little sanctuary up there.

The cats even started bringing grass snakes into the house. They knew all the little holes and cracks where the snakes hid. I yelled at them to stop dragging those poor snakes inside!

The cats loved it there, and it was hard for them when we returned to the city. Joey didn’t eat for a week out of sadness.

Every weekend, I would take a boat to Kherson to buy essentials — oil, grains, or sugar — the things we couldn’t grow ourselves. My husband and I would pass through the Ostriv microdistrict. The orcs had a checkpoint there. They’d check our bags and phones. Once, we were boarded by an orc boat, they searched us and checked our passports and phones.

Liberation

I remember when Kherson was liberated. I went shopping by boat. We all knew each other, everyone else was also going. So we hired a taxi, we were on our way, and we saw a pickup truck with Odesa license plates and a guy in camouflage waving at us. I thought, “What a bastard, they’ve seized another of our cars, and he’s even waving.” I was so stressed I didn’t even notice his uniform was different! I arrived at the market, and it was buzzing: “They’re here, they’re here!” We’d been warned not to gather in groups because it might be a trap — the invaders could be disguising themselves… I said, “People, don’t gather!” They asked, “Don’t you want it to be true?” “Of course I do,” I replied, “but we were warned it could be a provocation.” I didn’t believe it. And Kherson was abuzz.

When we returned to the island, the talk was the same: “Did you hear?” “Is it true?” When it became clear that our forces really had come, we gathered everyone on the island and celebrated. Each family brought whatever they had, and we sat together, sang, took photos, and cried. Even the cat found us and sat at the table with us!

Then, the islands became a target for shelling. They used drones to watch where people were moving and fired at those spots. Soon everyone had fled, and we left in a hurry too.

We left our belongings behind but took the cats. Three carriers, two backpacks.

The dacha is now under orc control. We don’t know if we’ll ever return. Is it mined, is it destroyed? At least we have our animals with us. 

“Kupiansk Rai”: several concrete letters have fallen from the district sign, leaving only “Rai” [“rai” means “paradise” in Ukrainian, while the original word on the sign was “Raion,” meaning “district”]. It’s hard to imagine anything more ironic.

Flags flutter in the wind. Fading inscriptions left by passersby shimmer on the painted concrete. The wind blows in our faces. My fellow veterinarians step out of the vehicle, and the dogs follow — beautiful Lyman and impossibly funny Ritchie. I capture them all on camera. A minute later, we’re back in the cars.

We dive beneath a tilted railway bridge; pieces hang over the road like something out of a movie with explosions and high-quality CGI. The car veers onto a dirt road, jostling us as clouds of dust rise.

At one point, the car dips down, leaving a few weary soldiers behind on the side — and I see water all around. Rusted remnants of the bridge jut up from the depths like the spine and ribs of a skeleton. Oskil [River]? I pull out my phone, recording a few seconds, but all that’s visible is dust, and all that’s audible is a tune on the radio, “Your heart will tell you, for it has sight. It’s him! It’s him for sure!”

Together with the veterinary team, we head toward Kivsharivka, where they will sterilize and treat animals. Thus begins the diary of these eight incredible, smoke-filled days.

Characters:

o   Nataliya Sokolova (Natalka) — Head of the Accessible Sterilization project, veterinarian.

o   Lolita Polishchuk (Lola) — Veterinary assistant.

o   Yuliya Tkachenko — Veterinarian.

o   Roman Bidnenko (Roma) — Animal catcher.

o   Oleksandr Pohrebnyi (Sasha) — Driver of the UAnimals veterinary vehicle.

o   Olha Slynko (Olya) — Volunteer.

o   Andriy Kharchyshyn (Andriy) — Manager of the UAnimals rescue department.

o   Liliya Florynska (Lilya) — Animal welfare volunteer from Kupiansk.

o   Ranok the Dog.

o   Village Council Head Vasyl Bokov — Head of the Osynovo Village Council.

o   Aunt Valya, Zina, and others.

Tuesday, September 3

The car sways wildly between the pale chalk hills, the landscape resembling a sliced Kyiv cake. 

Ahead, the Kivsharivka sign appears, painted blue and yellow. The flag flutters on it, too, though faded to a lavender hue. We head a bit south to the first spot where the mobile clinic will be set up — the village of Novoosynove.

At 2:02 p.m., we arrive. The unknown soldier [Soviet-era monuments present in virtually every village] bows slightly under an old birch tree. We park the veterinary vehicle there, hanging branches around it for cover, and carry our supplies into an abandoned outpatient clinic. In one of the rooms, military call signs and code words are pinned up. I drop my backpack there.

The clinic wall has a gaping hole, and beside it, a rose bush blooms. The roof is shattered, and torn wires dangle like garlands here and there. I walk further in. Shattered windows reveal smiles of jagged shards, and blackened streaks make it appear as if something hot has scraped the building.  The fence is scrawled with messages for the enemy. Finally, I see people — women sitting on benches surrounded by cats. “Are you a volunteer? I’d like to speak with you.”

I barely manage to explain the type of our volunteer mission before the women start sharing stories about their animals.

“Who wrote on the fence?” I ask.

“Oh, Valya wrote it while Kostya dictated. She really shouldn’t have! There are four mistakes in every word.”

On the way back, I indeed spot the inscription, “ruskiy korabil.” When I return, Roma, the animal catcher, has just arrived from his first round. Dogs and cats “spill” from the car like out of the mitten [reference to a Ukrainian fairy tale]. Well, it just seems that way — they’re actually secured in cages. These are strays that will be spayed, neutered, and treated for parasites.

One puppy is too small for a cage, so it was let to wander on the grass, waddling between the cages with little, wobbly steps. Wobble-wobble, wobble-wobble.

“We’ll vaccinate this one soon,” says Natalka. “Let’s get it on video. Can you hold it…?”

“I just need to grab my mic,” I say, but I can’t bring myself to set the puppy down.

“Hand it over here; I’ll hold it,” offers Andriy, our manager.

I start to feel a pang of jealousy.

“Why don’t you two go together?” Natalka suggests, ending the debate.

I hurry to the clinic to fetch my mic, still holding the pup. The little one shivers like an aspen leaf but obediently sits on the couch while I search for the equipment. Once ready, we vaccinate and microchip him. I capture the process on film and already feel like I’ll never let this pup go.

Meanwhile, Natalka, Lola, and Yulia begin sedating the animals in the cages and starting the surgeries. Later, these cats and dogs will be vaccinated for rabies and treated for parasites. Roma and volunteer Olya are preparing for the next round of captures. I grab my camera and barely manage to jump in the car with them.

“Turn around so it doesn’t see me!” seems to be the mantra of the day. Roma shouts it to everyone helping bring a cat or dog to the car. He holds that if the animal doesn’t see the catcher, he can safely take it from its owner and quickly place it in a cage.

We gather cats around Novoosynove and Kivsharivka. Some people hand them over; others, Roma catches with a special trap cage baited with fragrant kibbles. Some are caught barehanded, while others need a net. By dusk, we’re back with 18 cats in cages.

The veterinarians finish their surgeries: 15 animals sterilized on the first day. It may not seem like much, but we still have plenty of time ahead.

The frontline rumbles, making it impossible to sleep in the clinic tonight. We gather our things and head to the basement of a five-story building. The building seems empty, but suddenly, a woman materializes near the entrance with a bicycle. “You all need a place to wash up! There’s an empty, bombed-out apartment with a water supply. The soldiers used to go there to bathe. Oh, how long we have lived with them here! They left at one point, then returned because they were afraid Aunt Valya wasn’t around anymore. But here I am. They meet me, they wheel my bicycle up… Second floor, there’s a spoon sticking out of the lock.”

Wednesday, September 4

In the morning, I head out again with Roma, the animal catcher, and Olya. Roma drives, while Olya keeps tabs on requests coming from Andriy and occasionally Natalka, jotting them down in her notebook and managing calls on her phone. After returning animals to their owners in Novoosynove, we set off to the village of Podoly to follow up on more requests. We bump along the dirt road like wandering Bedouins on camels, the air thick with smoke.

In Podoly, we’re met by Zina, a local volunteer who shelters abandoned dogs and knows where others might be found. She’s essentially our diplomatic envoy in this village. Zina hops into the car and confidently extends her tanned finger from the window, directing us.

Our first stop is with a woman picking up her already-sterilized dog, Pushynka. The woman cries with joy when she receives her dog and again when handing over Pushynka’s puppies for sterilization. “You’ll bring them back tomorrow, right?”

Our car crawls over sand dunes left by military vehicles, reaching a neighborhood where many residents remain.

“Where’s your other cat?” one woman asks. “My comadre is still trying to catch her,” another replies. “Those are my cats,” waves a woman in a snow-white headscarf. “They’re displaced. They used to live in the military’s house over there, but then they came to me. A cat and three kittens. The soldiers left, and nobody was feeding them.”

Our conversations with people go smoothly until we arrive at the home of some local drinkers, where dogs cluster outside. Despite our diplomatic envoy doing her best, we couldn’t break through the wall of incomprehension. A man and woman shout and tell us, along with Zina, to go away. We manage to take only one dog for sterilization.

Today, we sterilized 46 animals and distributed rabies vaccines and parasite treatments — items unavailable for purchase here.

Thursday, September 5

Emerging from the basement, my eyes take a while to adjust to the light.

A rumble starts: two helicopters soar overhead, their heavy bellies skimming above me, only to return minutes later. I spot blue and yellow insignias. Hopefully, they accomplished what they set out to do.

Everything around is humming and vibrating. At the mobile clinic, our first client is Simka, a cat brought in by an older man, Oleksandr Vasylovych. He tells us he has another cat, Bilka, along with three kittens. Maybe we can catch and vaccinate them? We head to his yard together.

Under the grapevines, the kittens huddle on the seat of an old rusted moped.

“I could leave here,” Oleksandr Vasylovych laments. “I’d let my little dog go. But what about these ones? I’m in a deadlock! I don’t know what to do with them! I’ve got nowhere to go, let alone take them. If I leave, it would be to the Sumy region. But they’re not wanted there.”

We manage to catch two and carry them back. Another cat comes out. “Murchyk, come along! Today’s my birthday. I didn’t know since there’s no power, and then I charged my phone and saw that it was today.”

Meanwhile, locals continue arriving at the mobile clinic, some women bringing cats quite literally in sacks. Everyone discusses last night’s shelling in Kivsharivka. One shell hit the bus station near the kiosk where we bought food yesterday.

By late morning, I set out with Roma again to Kivsharivka and Podoly. After the strikes, the smoke was thicker. The bus station is blackened and destroyed, and patches of grass are still smoldering.

At 12:01 p.m., one of the busiest episodes of the veterinary mission begins. After returning sterilized animals to Podoly, we set off to locate a collapsed house rumored to be sheltering seven puppies. All feral, and they need to be caught to vaccinate them.

We finally locate the place: a sieve instead of a fence, and the house missing an entire wall. Piles of bricks cover the ground, while shelves stocked with canned food and household items are visible inside. Roma and I enter what used to be the kitchen — it’s dark and disorderly.

We shine our flashlights around but manage to locate only two puppies. The others dart under a gap in the floorboards, and the next 20 minutes are filled with dust and chaotic scurrying. Roma uses some kind of a rod to pry up the floor, reaching into the holes to grab the puppies by hand. They whimper, but eventually, we catch them all.

Back in Novoosynove, I set off on foot to find another store. A dull thud echoes in the distance. At an intersection, a burnt car lies under a wooden sign labeled “Store” with an arrow pointing left. I follow it. The houses along the way have warped walls, and on one, with relatively fresh pink paint, someone has scrawled, “Glory to Ukraine, death to enemies!”

“Do you have any bread?” I ask.

“No bread delivery today. Tomorrow.”

Apart from bread, they seem to have everything else.

By day’s end, we had operated on 37 animals, most of which were captured strays. We continued distributing parasite treatments.

As the sun sets, I step outside to take in the village. Tended but empty gardens stretch before me. Corn and unharvested tomatoes. Marigolds bloom everywhere.

Friday, September 6

We’re at a new location, though the village name isn’t much different — Osynovo, now on the right bank of the Oskil. Once again, we set up the mobile clinic near the village council and community center, where a crowd has already gathered. Some wait with cats and dogs for sterilization, while others simply want to chat. They sit beside us on the bench, talking, and talking, and talking… The common theme for everyone here is their dogs and cats.

Midday, soldiers bring in a dog named Sandy, who resembles a husky, for sterilization.

“She’s our sister in arms,” says Sasha, a soldier, squinting in the sun. “She’s been with us in the dugouts, the trenches… always hiding with us in the shelters. She’s been with us since she was a pup.”

Roman turns to me and asks, “Shall we head to the dump?” I nod, “Of course.”

The local dump is said to be a goldmine for catching stray animals. We arrive during the golden hour when everything is bathed in the warm glow of the low sun. Golden-tinted trash blankets the hills.

We’re followed by a man of remarkable erudition: “I know three languages,” he declares, “Ukrainian, russian, and Romani! And here’s my dog. Bomba, come here!”

Our trip to the dump is only partially successful; we manage to pick up just one dog there and another on the way back.

But today, more owners have started bringing their animals for sterilization. Altogether, we sterilize 59 cats and dogs: 33 brought in by their owners, with the rest from our animal catching rounds.

We settle in for the night at the village community center. The head of the village council brings us blankets; I lay mine beneath a poster of a Soviet soldier. There’s no Wi-Fi or phone signal here, so to catch an internet connection from the Starlink, we have to step onto the council’s porch. However, the community center houses a small library with relatively modern books. A red-painted sign above reads, “Kupiansk District! Our homeland.”

Saturday, September 7

“I brought seven cats from Kupiansk,” says volunteer Yulia, setting seven carriers in a row. “I collected them from people who can’t bring them here for sterilization on their own. Many people have left, abandoning their animals, who can’t fend for themselves. I’ve taken in one cat and four dogs. Some others, we go and feed.”

Today, animals are brought in from Kupiansk, a soldier and a few villagers come by. Later in the afternoon, I head to Kupiansk myself with Roman. We’re not alone: volunteer Lilia joins us, her notebook filled with addresses.

“How’s veterinary care here?” I ask. “Nonexistent,” Lilia replies. “It’s been about ten months without any help. Sometimes, people contact veterinarians in Kharkiv online or take animals themselves to Chuhuiv or Kharkiv. There used to be a clinic in Shevchenkove, but it’s gone too. Now, it’s only phone consultations.”

By the end of the day, the vets sterilized 67 cats and dogs.

Sunday, September 8

“This here is Sofa. She’s a sweetheart, never causes trouble,” a local woman, a mother of three, tells me about her dog. “Either way, she needs to be sterilized. It’s better for the dog and for us — otherwise, we’d have way too many dogs. I also have Lyalya. When the explosions are close, they run everywhere, barking. Sofa sleeps under my car because she’s scared of explosions.”

The wait is long, and soon, the woman shifts to sharing memories of the occupation.

“They took everyone to the basements, forced us to sing the russian anthem. Some made it out; some didn’t. It was terrifying when planes flew over the rooftops. At first, I’d huddle in a corner, clutching my head… I don’t know how I managed to pull myself together. It took them a long time to push them out of the woods. Now that our troops are here, it’s not as scary. God forbid it happens again.”

A clear autumn sky with thin, transparent clouds.

This is Prystin, the third village on our route. Here, too, we’ve set up the mobile clinic beside the village council and community center. Beneath a bench, a neat pile of shell fragments is stacked — smooth metal with jagged, torn edges.

At 5:37 p.m., the air thickens with smoke. The first puppy vaccinated during the mission sleeps, unbothered by any explosions. In Osynovo, I’ve already named him Ranok [“Morning”]. Some people sit “under the Starlink,” trying to pick up a signal. Andriy is on the phone with UAnimals manager Nastya: “I’ll text you every hour, ‘All good, all good.’”

This reassurance is necessary because it was whistling and falling nearby recently. We ducked behind a wall, though who knows what good it would’ve done.

Just afterward, our driver Sasha calls out, “Drone!” and we crouch near a birch for a few minutes.

I see people outside the village tying three cows to graze. The young women continue their surgeries while Roman is on a capture round.

In the evening, the village council head stops by again. “That drone dropped something near my house. There was some kind of another thing,  it fell in a woman’s yard. I’ll go visit her and tell you what that was. Will this one here turn out like marble?” He nods at Ranok, who indeed has a reddish coat with faint marbled patterns.

The veterinarians work late as usual: today, they’ve operated on 41 animals.

To keep the light use minimal, only the vet van stays illuminated. Once that light goes out, everything is swallowed by thick darkness. Only the sky over Kivsharivka continues to flash.

Monday, September 9

Early in the morning, something hit nearby again. I hear the village head on the phone, asking, “Could you bring a couple of canisters of water, at least? There was a strike, and we don’t want the fire spreading to the sunflowers…”

It’s the second-to-last day, so, together with Andriy, the manager, we record a video summarizing our efforts. He holds the shaggy Lyman in his arms. “The Grads [MLRS] last night were memorable,” Andriy says with a half-smile.

But it’s time to take stock for real: the vet mission has provided aid to 390 animals, most of them strays.

Tonight, there are few stars, but the moon is visible. It’s waxing but no longer a thin crescent. Its broader shape glows in the sky — a strange, blood-red hue.

Tuesday, September 10

We pack up, load Ranok into the car, and begin the slow drive back to Kharkiv with Sasha in the vet van. The veterinarians, Roma, and Andriy take a second van. The vet van has some mechanical issues, so we can only drive in second gear, giving us ample time to take in the sights of the Kharkiv region — beautiful and smoke-filled. russian radio occasionally breaks through the static.

In Kharkiv, I stop by a pet store, buy a dog carrier, and head home.

We arrive in Kyiv that evening, all of us — the veterinarians, Andriy, Sasha, and us with the dog.

Just before arrival, I text Natalka: “How are you?” “All’s well,” she replies, sending a photo from the van with a glass in hand. “Celebrating life.” And the little “marbled” dog is giving me a hard time to finish this text.

One of the most pervasive myths about the Middle Ages is the claim that cats were treated horribly during that era. Of course, the image of black cats suffering in the flames alongside their witch owners provides a compelling representation of the so-called “Dark Ages.” However, like many other myths, the idea that medieval people universally hated cats does not hold up under the scrutiny of historical sources. These sources, in fact, reveal evidence of tenderness, care, and genuine curiosity with which Europeans treated cats of all breeds and colors. Through these sources, I aim to demonstrate that the notion of widespread demonization of cats in the Middle Ages doesn’t hold any more water than the contemporary belief in a flat Earth.

But first, let’s take a closer look into the demonization itself: it was during the medieval period that black cats began to be associated with evil forces. The most well-known example of such superstition is Pope Gregory IX’s Papal Bull Vox in Rama, issued in June 1233, which was aimed against the heresy of Luciferianism. The bull described an initiation ritual that involved kissing a giant black cat under its tail—a variation on the theme of worshipping Lucifer, with whom the cat was identified.

Due to this association of black cats with demonic influence, historian Donald W. Engels concluded that the spread of the plague in Europe was caused by the mass killing of cats. Supposedly, many cats were put to death, leaving no one to catch the rats that were considered the main carriers of the plague.

Indeed, from the late 15th century, after the publication of Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches), large-scale witch hunts began, with cats (particularly black ones) being considered their essential companions. This belief was likely fueled by cats’ nocturnal lifestyle. Nighttime activity, as with owls and frogs, was seen by medieval theologians as evidence of connections to evil forces, which were believed to manifest primarily at night.

However, there was no widespread mass killing of cats in the Middle Ages. The closest historical event to the myth of a “great cat massacre” actually occurred in the early modern period, not the medieval one, as described by historian Robert Darnton. In Paris, on the Rue Saint-Séverin in the late 1730s, printing apprentices, furious at the appalling conditions of their lives, captured, beat, and eventually hanged their masters’ cats. The cats suffered because their owners had provided them with a much better standard of living than the poor apprentices had. This “great massacre” was confined to a single street and, as far as I know, was the largest such event recorded by historians.

The “cruel” Middle Ages are often contrasted with cat-loving ancient Egypt, where the goddess Bastet, with her feline head, and cat mummies, now showcased in the great halls of museums, are commonly cited.

But recently, I came across a record from 899, widely shared online, from the diary of the 17-year-old Japanese Emperor Uda, who wrote about his black cat. “My cat,” Uda wrote, “moves silently, without making a sound, like a black dragon above the clouds.” On one occasion, the emperor addressed his beloved pet with these words, “You possess the forces of yin and yang and have a body that is the way it should be. I suspect that in your heart, you may even know all about me!” To this, Uda noted, “The cat heaved a sigh, raised his head, and stared fixedly at my face, seeming so choked with emotion, his heart so full of feeling, that he could not say a thing in reply.”

These words are filled with love and gentle irony. They show that in the Middle Ages, the emotional bond between cats and their owners was not so different from today, even though this example comes from an Asian source. Moreover, evidence of affection for cats can also be found in European texts from that period.

Let’s start with encyclopedias, whose authors attempted to organize and explain the world around them. In his multi-volume Etymologies, Isidore of Seville sought to explain the nature of things through their names. He links different names for cats to certain traits, “Common people call it the cat (cattus) from ‘catching’ (captura). Others say it so named because cattat, that is, ‘it sees’ — for it can see so keenly (acute) that with the gleam of its eyes it overcomes the darkness of the night. Hence ‘cat’ comes from Greek, that is. ‘clever’“

Thomas of Cantimpré, in his encyclopedia De Natura Rerum, describes cats as follows: “It is very easy for people to provoke them to play; they delight in flattery. They love warm places, where they sometimes burn their fur out of sheer laziness. They have long fur on the sides, and its removal leads to a loss of courage. They are happy when touched by a human hand, and they express their joy by singing… The cat is spoiled by such an amount of love for it.”

Bestiaries—medieval collections of stories and legends about animals, birds, plants, and even stones—visualize the descriptions from encyclopedias. They depict cats with mice in their paws, grooming themselves and even wearing crowns. All these depictions are not much different from modern Instagram photos.

As we can see, much of what was written about cats was based on observations of their natural behavior. Unlike lions, cheetahs, dragons, or unicorns, cats were an integral part of everyday medieval life. The same monks who wrote encyclopedias and adorned manuscripts also kept cats, even allowing them near their most precious possessions—books. There is ample evidence of this, the most striking being the paw prints left in manuscripts.

In an English copy of the aforementioned Etymologies by Isidore of Seville, one can see the prints of dirty cat paws. Judging by their placement, the cat walked onto the page (the first print is very clear) and then made itself comfortable there—this is evident from the subsequent smudged prints on the page. Interestingly, the material of the manuscript allowed for these marks to be erased, but the monk chose not to—perhaps leaving them as a fond memory of his beloved pet.

In contrast, a 15th-century treatise from the Dubrovnik State Archive bears traces of how a cat first stepped into ink and then walked confidently across the pages of the manuscript. This confirmation of cats’ love for interrupting our work was discovered by historian Emir O. Filipović. He didn’t expect his finding to cause such a stir, but mentions of the cat’s paw prints in the treatise quickly spread across the internet—from Twitter to personal blogs. The story was even picked up by well-known online publications, including The Guardian, The Atlantic, and Smithsonian Magazine. For some, this discovery was a revelation: the cats lying on keyboards in today’s photos have direct predecessors in the Middle Ages!

Cats were not only physically present in manuscripts but also appeared in miniatures (illustrations) and marginalia (drawings on the edges of pages). The most popular motif of cat “iconography” in marginalia was a scene where a monkey feeds a cat. Artists often depicted these scenes as a parody of nativity images: a kitten swaddled in a manger while one or a pair of monkeys hover above it.

Cats also made their way into the workspaces of saints. In a 16th-century Book of Hours from Bruges, while Saint Matthew is writing the Gospel, a cat sits behind him with a silent reproach in its eyes, evidently waiting patiently for the work to end so that its owner might finally feed it.

The love for cats among monks and nuns was sometimes so intense that it provoked criticism. The Dominican friar John Bromyard, in his 14th-century sermon, addressed the monastic elite, reproaching them for their excessive fondness for cats. He wrote, “Cats, as the learned doctor says, can indeed rid our homes of parasites, but as life has shown, they cannot be trusted. I once heard of a fool who found that mice were eating his cheese in a wooden chest; so he placed a cat in the chest to protect the cheese. But what did the cat do? It ate not only the mice but also the cheese.”

So, was love stronger than prejudice? Despite the superstitions and myths about cats that formed on the pages of medieval encyclopedias, treatises, papal encyclicals, and eventually in popular oral culture, there is more evidence of love for cats. One only needs to look at the miniatures in medieval Books of Hours, where cats and their owners are depicted in affectionate embraces. This love for “dragons above the clouds” in the Middle Ages united East and West, clergy and peasants alike, just as it unites us today. The notion of unrelenting cruelty towards cats in the Middle Ages is more of a myth than a historical reality.

“Is that a bang,” asks the bearded man sitting in the dugout. “Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you… You’ll be safe and warm here.” He is talking to a kitten. You might recognize this scene. The soldier shared the video on his TikTok page, where it has already garnered nearly three million views.

The man in the video is Vitaliy Petrov, a tank platoon commander. Before the full-scale war, he lived in Kyiv, working as a driver—first as an employee and later as an entrepreneur. His family dog, Aiza, stayed behind in the rear. While on the front lines, he found himself caring for a cat, who soon became a social media sensation.

Vitaliy adopted the call sign “Joker,” after the DC Comics villain, who had a companion named Harley Quinn. Fittingly, Joker’s real-life black kitten is named Harley.

At the time of our conversation, Vitaliy’s unit had been holding the same frontline position for five months, with Harley living there for four of those months. 

Joker mentions that Harley “spiced things up” on TikTok, where he now has over 125,000 followers who offer tips on cat care and even send food for her. Our call connects. Joker’s camera shows us his dugout.

— Is the cat with you now?

— Yes, she’s having lunch over there.

— I’ve rewatched that video of you holding her as a kitten about 15 times…

— Yeah, there were some heavy shellings back then. I found her terrified and brought her into the dugout. I talked to her, and she listened so intently—it was unbelievable. Even after the shelling ended, she didn’t leave the dugout for another hour.

— How did she find you?

— When we first arrived at this position, there was a pregnant cat here. One of our unit members is a vet, so he helped deliver the kittens. Once they grew up and started running around, I took a liking to a little black one. That’s how I got her. 

Joked had his Harley, so I named her the same.

Harley has lived with us in the dugout all her life. The other kittens run around outside, and she used to run off with them, too, but now she’s become quite the house cat. 

I feed her, and she eats with the other cats while we leave for work. When we return, the other four cats scurry off, but Harley sits there like she owns the place, totally unbothered.

— How did you manage to tame her when the other cats stayed feral?

— Harley’s a bit of a disaster, to be honest. If there’s wire anywhere, she’ll find a way to get tangled in it. I’ve had to rescue her countless times.

Once, I’d just returned from my post and was resting when a comrade burst in, shouting, “Grab a knife and come with me!” I said, “Why a knife? I’ve got a rifle.” He insisted, “No, grab a knife!” I said, “Let’s do the rifle! Are we going into hand-to-hand combat or what?” He said, “Your silly little thing hanged herself, come quick!” I ran after him, and sure enough, Harley was hanging on the net. She was above the dugout, fell down, and was caught by her neck. I cut her free, she was trembling all over. I took her into my arms, and she calmed down.

I don’t know exactly how I managed to tame her. Maybe she lets herself be touched because I kept finding her and showing her love.

— Does she show you love in return?

— Oh, it’s incredible. Every morning, there’s a whole ritual. When I get ready for work, Harley comes over and starts meowing. She won’t stop until I pet her and let her rub against my face, like giving her a kiss of sorts. She just can’t let me gear up and go to work in peace. She demands attention before she’ll let me go, like, “Fine, you can go, but not for long.” She also goes to the other guys for a pet, but when I lie down to rest, she comes to my bed only.

— What’s a typical day like with her?

— Some days, there’s a ton of work and others, you just get up and monitor the perimeter of your zone of responsibility. There are firefights, fending off attacks. During those times, I don’t lock her away because if I do, she gets even more anxious.

She mostly stays in or around the dugout. Meanwhile, we do our job a little away. Once, I was on my post, and she came to visit. I was shocked. I petted her, but then I took her back because we don’t need that—she could give away our position. 

Orlans [Russian drones] can see everything very well with their cameras. If they see dogs or a bunch of cats, they know there are people nearby. We don’t need to let them know it.

— Does Harley have a favorite spot?

— When I’m lying on the bed, her favorite spot is on my chest, just near my shoulder. She lies down there and goes to sleep.

— How does she react to the shelling?

— She was scared as a kitten, but now, not so much. The only time she gets fussy is when she sees me putting on my armor and grabbing my weapon. She knows I’m leaving, and she shows her displeasure.

— Does she affect your mood?

— Definitely! When I used to be looking for her when she was a kitten, I was beside myself with joy when I found this little ball of happiness. 

During shelling, it was the other way, I’d worry that something could hit her…

— Can she cheer up others?

— Without her, it would be duller. We reminisce with the guys about how we were scrambling under fire to find Harley.

When I couldn’t find her for a week, it really got me down. But then I’d see her mom, and I’d think, “Okay, they must be nearby.” That cheered me up.

Sometimes, we’ll be sitting together with the guys, and Harley will come over, bothering everyone, meowing. Once someone acknowledges her and talks to her, she’s happy. She’ll either curl up somewhere or sit and listen.

— In the videos, you talk to her so sweetly. Don’t your comrades tease you about it?

— At first, they joked, “Did you replace your wife’s attention with that of a cat?” They even called me the “cat dad.” Think what you will, let it be so. But frankly speaking, you can’t endure war without humor.

“I saw a Facebook post by a veterinary clinic about a blind kitten that had been brought in to be euthanized. I couldn’t sleep all night thinking about Mokh and finally decided to take him. He was my first pet with a disability. I didn’t know what I would do with him at home — I was scared,” shares Iryna Yakymenko.

Now, she has eight cats, half of them with disabilities. Two have coordination disorders, another has only three legs, and one cat, Mokh [which means moss in Ukrainian], the one saved from euthanasia, is both blind and deaf. He’s now 11 years old.

Caring for animals with impaired vision often involves rescue stories. People find an animal on the street that has developed an eye infection and can’t leave it to die. This was the case with the kitten in Kateryna Semeniuk’s family.

“I hesitated for a long time about getting a pet. But fate brought me the cat I was ready for. My boyfriend’s mother found her as a kitten, and she already had eye problems,” recalls Kateryna. Due to the infection, small Savannah had to have an eye removed. After the surgery, Kateryna and her boyfriend took her home.

Kateryna says she had considered adopting an animal with a disability from a shelter even before Savannah, “Most people are hesitant to take home an animal with disabilities. But it gives you the opportunity to become a better person. All animals deserve love.”

However, caring for an animal with impaired vision isn’t always a family’s choice. Sometimes, after many years together, blindness can develop with age. If this happens it’s essential to show responsibility and love, never abandoning a sick animal. 

Yuliya Vedmova had a healthy and active dog — a spaniel named Lola — for seven years. Then Lola developed an ear infection, and Yuliya immediately took her to a veterinary clinic. It turned out that the clinic was only reducing Lola’s symptoms without treating the cause. Another clinic later informed Yuliya that Lola needed an ear removed. However, even more problems arose after the surgery.

“A red lump appeared on her eye. The vet said it wouldn’t affect her vision. But one day, during a walk, I noticed that Lola didn’t understand where to go. I was shocked. We started looking for other vets again,” says Yuliya.

Eventually, another clinic discovered the inflammation, but it had already caused irreversible changes. Lola lost her sight.

“Lola was suggested to have her eyes and another ear removed for aesthetic reasons. We didn’t want to torture the dog for the sake of appearance,” recalls Yuliya. “One woman even asked if we wanted to euthanize the dog. My husband replied, ‘I won’t put down a healthy dog.’ She eats, plays, and sleeps like any other dog.”

Causes of Vision Impairments in Animals

Olena Kuznetsova

Dr. Olena Kuznetsova, an intensive care and resuscitation specialist at the Hels Veterinary Medicine Center, explains that problems with any ocular structure can affect vision — eyeballs, eyelids, tear glands, eye sockets, muscles, and nerves. These can be congenital conditions, traumatic incidents, or infectious systemic diseases.

Congenital issues include developmental anomalies and breed-specific traits. A prominent example of breed-related vision problems is the heavy, drooping eyelids of shar-peis and sphynxes, which can cover the eyes.

“Among developmental disorders leading to eye problems, the most common are microphthalmia and anophthalmia, which are underdevelopment or complete absence of one or both eyes. In particular dogs with the currently popular merle coat pattern can inherit these issues,” says Olena.

Certain dog breeds, including pugs, shih tzus, and others with unique eye socket structures, are at higher risk of severe eye injuries.

“Eye injuries are a common reason for veterinary visits,” Olena notes. “These can include scratches from claws or bites, bruises from collisions with bicycles, cars, or other vehicles, and foreign objects in the eye such as splinters, insects, or plant thorns.”

Some infectious diseases also affect vision. Olena provides examples: “Herpes in kittens can cause not only inflammation but also complete eye destruction. Diseases like ehrlichiosis in dogs, feline infectious peritonitis, or feline immunodeficiency can damage specific ocular structures and blood vessels and cause chronic pain.”

Lastly, age-related vision deterioration in animals, such as cataracts or glaucoma, can result from the aforementioned causes.

Olena advises pet owners to be attentive to their animals to detect early signs of vision problems. Seek veterinary assistance if you notice a change in eye color, confusion, stumbling, or bumping into objects.

“In addition to a general clinical and ophthalmological examination, additional diagnostics are needed to identify the root cause and understand how the disease progresses. The vet will ask many questions, and it might seem like they are unrelated to vision. However, please provide complete and accurate information — sometimes it can substitute the need for tests,” Olena says.

When Ears Are Eyes and Nose: How Blind Animals Cope

There are three animals under Darya Buhayevska’s care: a dog, a cat, and a kitten. The first family member was a dog named Busia, and two years ago, Darya adopted a cat named Vanga from a dog shelter.

“My husband and I sometimes visited the dog shelter to help out. One day, someone left a cat with kittens there. We looked at her, and Vanga immediately touched our hearts with her uniqueness,” Darya recalls.

Vanga is indeed unique: she is blind, her front legs are shorter than her back legs, and she has no tail. Vanga has only a part of one eye left; she lost the rest due to an infection or injury. That’s what the doctors that Darya consulted suspected. Darya had long hoped that Vanga would regain some vision, but her hopes were dashed. However, Darya says Vanga leads a full feline life even without her vision.

“Blind cats respond very well to sound: their ears are their eyes. Vanga almost never bumps into anything and can climb onto the couch on her own. She uses the litter box perfectly and knows where her dish and the dog’s dish are. She even catches sparrows! And her most mysterious ability is finding boxes. As soon as a box appears in the house, Vanga is in it within 10 seconds,” shares Darya.

Iryna, Mokh’s caregiver, notes that animals with impaired vision have a well-developed sense of smell, which helps them navigate their environment. Mokh finds the toilet, water, food, and toys through his sense of smell.

“Compensation of sensory functions through other senses is a crucial survival mechanism,” says the veterinarian. “However, owners should not rely solely on this. We must maintain the quality of life of a sick animal at a proper level. They are only part of our lives, but we are their everything.”

“A Little More Attention”: How to Care for Blind Animals 

“Mokh was initially sickly, but not because of his blindness. Even animals without vision impairments have their health issues. Now, Mokh and I have annual blood tests to determine if he needs vitamins or special food,” says Iryna.

Concerned about her cat’s comfort, Iryna researched how to care for blind animals. She found out that it’s important to limit the space so the animal can gradually get used to the home. At first, when she was leaving home, Iryna used to designate an area for Mokh in the apartment with napkins and a small fence.

“Anyone considering a pet with impaired vision must understand that the cat will initially have difficulty finding its way around. Sometimes, they might meow loudly when lost, but this is temporary. I also avoid sudden movements to prevent stress. I approach Mokh slowly, let him sniff my hand, then start petting him before picking him up.”

On the other hand, Darya says there’s usually no need for special accommodations for her blind cats. After adopting Vanga, the family also took in Liokha, a kitten with an eye infection that Darya found near the dumpsters. Both Vanga and Liokha rarely bump into things. If they do, they adjust their route for next time.

When the family moved to a new two-story house, they worried about the cats navigating the open staircases, fearing they would fall down if they were not careful. “We entered the house and immediately placed their paws on the stairs so they could feel them. It took just a minute. Now the cats run up and down the stairs without any falls,” Darya recalls.

To create a comfortable environment for blind animals, Olena Kuznetsova advises, “Close your eyes and think about what would be convenient for you in that state. This helps you understand the sick animal better. Of course, everything must be in its place, remove obstacles on the way to the water bowl, food, pads, and resting areas. Let everyone who visits know about this. During walks, keep the animal on a short leash. It’s preferable to walk in secluded areas.”

For animals with one eye, Dr. Kuznetsova says they adapt quite well, but there’s always a risk of not seeing something. Kateryna confirms, “Sometimes, Savannah bumps into surfaces, especially when she’s very playful. But she’s very active. She even jumps from door to door when they’re open. I’ve never even seen a two-eyed cat do that!”

However, the vet emphasizes the importance of daily hygiene for one-eyed animals, “Consult your vet for proper care instructions. And no wiping with tea!”

As for Lola, who lost her sight at 8 years old, Yuliya used to take her for frequent check-ups post-surgery, but it’s no longer necessary. Occasionally, the dog receives injections to reduce inflammation and is given moisturizing eye drops. Yuliya also takes Lola for grooming every three weeks, where she gets washed, trimmed, and her ears cleaned. Yuliya noticed that after losing her sight, Lola needs a bit more attention and tactile interaction:

“We sleep in the same bed. Before, Lola would come to me on her own, but now I carry her to the bed. She snuggles up to me and falls asleep. When I cook, Lola leans against my leg and sits there. We do everything together.”

Like any other, animals with visual impairments can be just as fluffy (or not), calm or mischievous, affectionate or independent. They, too, need caring and responsible caretakers.

Kabachok used to live in Donetsk region. Where exactly is classified as the militarymen found him on a mission. He’s a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig by breed, but more like a dog in his behavior. Out in the field and on the road, he used to live in an empty ammo box. Now, he has a much more sizable home. On his way to the shelter, Kabachok was accompanied by eight soldiers and two journalists.

“He’s completely tame. Eats everything, but we’re watching his diet so he doesn’t gain too much weight. Kabachok should be ‘sportivo’,” says Andrea Cisternino, owner of the Rifugio shelter in Lisovychi.

This svelte Italian in rubber boots used to be a fashion photographer. Now, he has chosen a different mission — taking care of hundreds of animals in northern Kyiv region.

For nearly a decade, Rifugio has been a place for homeless and poorly-treated animals to find a new home. It recently had many new arrivals from Kherson oblast, hotspot towns and villages, and also — pets of soldiers who had to leave for the front lines. Right now, the shelter is housing approximately 500 animals. Nobody knows the exact amount — once the number broke 400, the workers simply lost track. 

NOSE TO THE GRINDSTONE

“At six in the morning I light the wood stove by the kittens and puppies,” tells Natalia from Liubymivka, “while another coworker heats up the one in the kitchen and starts making porridge. Then, I clean up and go help her out. We give the porridge to the dogs, then feed the pigs and clean their enclosures. And the other person goes to wash the dishes, while I go wash the eyes of our kittens. I do whatever other procedures the animals need. After that, we go to clean the dogs’ enclosures. Switch out their water and all that.”

Work continues deep into the evening.

Natalia and her colleague take care of pigs, cats, and dogs. Three other men work with horses, goats, and sheep. The owner also often takes up the pitchfork, but he also has other duties, such as looking for funds to support the shelter. Andrea says, “My main mission is to make sure all of these animals are well-fed.”

FROM ITALY TO LISOVYCHI

Next to the enclosures at the edge of the forest, Andrea also built a photo studio. There’s not much to show right now: the corkboard only has two pictures pinned to it. One of them depicts the dogs Chupi and Bruno, the other — the supermodel Helena Christensen. Both photos were taken by Andrea. In Italy, he took pictures of top models and sportscars. Right here is where he keeps the old and weathered photographer passes for “Formula-1” and various runways.

In 2009, fashion photographer Andrea married Vlada, a Ukrainian, and moved to live with her. By that time he was already involved with animal rights activism, and he was shocked by the scale of dog hunting in Ukraine.

Back then, Kyiv was preparing for UEFA Euro 2012. In order to “clean up the streets”, homeless animals were simply put to death. Andrea says that politicians turned a blind eye to dog hunters — what’s more, the government at the time was directly complicit in animal extermination.

In Kyiv, Andrea got in touch with volunteers who took care of homeless animals. “There was one time I got a call from a volunteer who was taking care of 35 dogs. That day, 20 of them had been brutally killed. And this is just one of dozens of cases that I have documented. Every day, I brought more evidence to Ukrainian politicians, and each time they shrugged and said they knew nothing about it,” says Andrea.

After that, he began publicly protesting animal cruelty in Ukraine. In response, dog hunters published Andrea’s private information on their websites. Since then, the Italian Embassy has assigned him a personal bodyguard.

Andrea and his wife Vlada set one question for themselves: what constructive steps can be taken to rescue homeless dogs? That was when the couple decided to create a shelter — but founding a shelter required massive funding.

What happened next was something straight out of a movie.

On Christmas Eve in Milan, Andrea met a woman who read one of his interviews and asked to meet with him.

“We had coffee together and talked for an hour and a half. Then she asked me if I had any pressing concerns. I said that we had many, but the most important was purchasing land so we wouldn’t get kicked out. She immediately wrote out a check for the required sum. It was a Christmas miracle.”

Rifugio began construction in 2014. At first, Andrea started taking in homeless dogs.

In the very first year, the shelter was struck by a fire. 71 animals died that day. Andrea shows a tattoo on his arm. “Always in my heart.” It’s dedicated to the dogs who passed that day.

The police found no signs of arson, and so no case was opened. But eventually, the culprits came forward of their own accord with an apology. They said they didn’t know what Andrea was doing and why. This apology confirmed Andrea’s suspicion that arson had indeed occurred, but his lawyer convinced him not to sue.

Andrea did not give up because of the tragedy. On the contrary, Rifugio now houses five times as many animals as back in the day and not just dogs. The shelter gets by mainly thanks to Italian sponsors. The shelter also established connections with Ukrainian volunteers. The townspeople, Andrea says, help out as well.

“The locals nowadays see our shelter very differently, all thanks to years of hard work. With our Italian friends, we organized free sterilization days, and people would bring their pets to us. Some of the townsfolk work here, too. If all I used to see before in Ukraine were dog hunters, then now we get daily phone calls asking for help, or people bringing in homeless animals on their own,” Andrea tells us.

And to think that very recently, the shelter had a very real chance of disappearing for good.

40 DAYS OF OCCUPATION

“I was cleaning the stables when I heard two russian fighter jets overhead. One of them started descending. I thought it was going to shoot, and that’d be the end of our shelter. The jet got so low to the ground I could see the pilot,” Andrea says as he describes the spring of 2022.

Later in the afternoon of February 24th, the shelter was abuzz with fighter jets and helicopters. Aircraft battles took place right above the village. Andrea shows us an audio recording of the explosions, “Day and night it was like this, day and night.”

“One of the worst moments happened when we heard that russians were running out of food,” says Andrea. The shelter ran out of food too, on occasion, whether for humans or animals. Even though the staff were making stockpiles a month before the invasion, by the middle of March they had nearly run out.

Andrea lost 12 kilograms and even broke two ribs.

“I was cleaning the stables, slipped, and broke two ribs. Naturally, I couldn’t just go to the russian or chechen soldiers to get patched up. I grit my teeth and waited for Ukrainian soldiers to liberate our territory.”

Natalia lost weight too: she gave part of her rations to the dogs she was taking care of. The shelter staff knew that aid for animals was coming through to Kyiv, but between Lisovychi and the nearest blockpost lay thirty kilometers — a distance nobody could risk braving at the time.

Andrea received offers to evacuate on more than one occasion. Even during the occupation, the Italian embassy insisted he leave the country, even going as far as to develop a plan and receive approval from the military…

“I asked, ‘Will you take everyone — my employees and animals, too?’ They said no, just me. So I stayed with my animals,” tells Andrea.

In total, Andrea spent 40 days in occupation, though he only managed to count that after the fact.

On April 2nd, he says, at a very unusually quiet time he heard a car horn. Strangers were at the shelter. Did the russians climb the fence? One of them shouted in Italian, “Andrea, hello, it’s me!”

“Russian soldiers speaking Italian? Impossibile!” recounts Andrea.

In reality, standing by the gates were the Italian journalist Claudio, translator Tetiana, and a Ukrainian volunteer. Waiting by the fence was a car with supplies — and a Ukrainian flag flying on the roof.

“I thought I was dreaming. Only when Claudio hugged me and I felt the pain, I remembered my broken ribs and understood — this is real.”

MEET THE VIPS

The first large animal at the shelter was a cow by the name of Margo. Now, she also has company in Mikaela. And right next door are two more esteemed signoras.

“Frieda, Frieda, Kapla!” Andrea calls out. Finally, two considerably-sized pigs waddle out of the barn, squinting from the sun. “Oh, buongiorno!”

Above all else, these refined dames love getting mud baths and scratches. The pigs can tell people apart and even respond to pet names.

Aside from domestic pigs, there are also two Vietnamese ones: the already familiar Kabachok and Harry. Though he is Kabachok’s closest relative, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Harry can only be found in the barn, sleeping in the hay. He’s chewing in his sleep, showing off his sizable tusks. Sleeping is his favorite hobby.

“Harry befriended a duck around here,” says Andrea. “Other ducks were bullying her, so she found safety in his company. They sleep and eat together.”

Marcio, Ser, Mina, Mami, Annushka, Roza, and Lola are the sheep community at the shelter. They arrived here from large farms where animals are raised for meat. That’s also how the shelter found their chickens, geese, and ducks.

The goats peek out from the barn. It almost looks like they want to give an interview of their own — and boy, do they have stories to tell. Take Berbek, for example this billy was wandering on his lonesome by the belorussian border when the locals found him and suggested Andrea take him in.

Mary the pony was on her way to a slaughterhouse when Andrea picked her up. Later it was found that Mary was pregnant when she got rescued: she gave birth to Op, and he is no pony at all. The stallion lives in the same enclosure as his mom and is nearly thrice as big as she is.

The racehorse Voron would have similarly ended his career at the slaughterhouse were it not for the shelter’s staff. Thelma and Louise came under Andrea’s care from the mounted police. Another mare by the name of Tatanka used to live in the same pasture with them — she died in 2023 because of a russian rocket that fell next to the shelter. Tatanka’s heart stopped then and there.

“And this one here is from Lisovychi,” Andrea shows us the gray Baron. “He spent his whole life as a workhorse. A woman from the village brought him in because two of her sons enlisted in the army, and she couldn’t take care of him on her own. Careful, he bites! Though… seems like he’s in a good mood today.”

Cats’ apartments

The cats have a separate space from the other animals. Here we can find former strays: some were brought in by Andrea, others by volunteers. As soon as I step in through the door, they cling to me and start purring. Some are trying to climb into my lap, some — onto my shoulders, and all of them are sniffing me curiously all over. You can pick them up by the armfuls, that’s how many there are. 

The feline enclosure is comfortable and fully furnished. People from Lisovychi donated a sofa for the cats specifically. Andrea points to the WC sign: “Our cats can read.”

Outside, Natalia is hard at work. “Cats were trying to drink from the mop bucket, I took it outside,” Andrea says in Italian. “Ah, I had to run to break up the dogs and forgot all about it,” Natalia replies in Ukrainian. “I understand his Italian,” she says. “How? Sometimes through a translator. And then, after a while, you learn to understand each other bit by bit.”

She picks up a stick off the ground and leads me to a completely different world — the world of dogs.

POTAP, DON’T BOTHER BABAIKA!

“Everyone! Quiet down, kids!” Natalia waves the branch around in front of the enclosures.

“You call them ‘kids’?”

“I mean, that’s what they are. Though we call some by their patronymic, too. We’ve got Dina Nikolaievna and Tamara Petrivna.”

The dog enclosure reminds me of a long apartment building, full to the brim with canine residents of all kinds — cheerful and melancholic, friendly and not so much. I can point at any dog here at random and Natalia will know its story from beginning to end:

“I assign them enclosures by personality. Here we have six dogs, and they all get along just fine. We could probably add another calm dog here no problem. When Harold moved in, he was an instant leader. Doesn’t bully anyone, it’s just that he might go around sniffing everyone’s bowls — and only when he’s done, everyone starts eating… And the more aggressive ones, you need to group them up with dogs that have character. They set each other straight. Dina Nikolaievna, shush! Potap, don’t bother Babaika! And this one is Hera. Hera, come here. She’s really smart. Hera, who was making all that noise in the enclosure, hmm? Who did that?”

To feed them all, the workers cook 300 liters of porridge every day. 

“Two of us use mopeds to get around, takes about 40 minutes to feed everyone. And this enclosure we call Verkhovna Rada. Liashko, come here! He’s the most talkative of the bunch. That one’s Poroshenko — the chubby one,” Natalia introduces us to the rest of her dogs. “Behave, I said!” she shouts to the “deputies”.

Many of the dogs here were brought by volunteers from frontline territories. For example, this shepherd from Mariupol was found among ruins by a couple driving out of the city. They just picked it off the road and took it with them.

There are also arrivals from Kherson. Andrea already arranged for four Kherson dogs to be transferred to Italy. Two more are getting ready for their trip.

“We had two dogs come in from Kherson recently,” says Natalia. “They lived in apartments. Enclosures like this were foreign to them. Stasik here… He spent all his time in his dog house, curled up and crying. So we brought him a proper bed and made a little room for him. Two others from Kherson are going to Italy soon. Stasik is already there.”

Later we run into Cefina, an American Staffordshire terrier, who made herself at home in the boiler room. There’s also the playful Lulu and the giant, though no less playful, Lucky. In Rifugio, these dogs are waiting for their masters who are defending Ukraine on the battlefield.

“…I remember he was small because we put him in my small backpack. He was sitting there drooling, maybe he was hungry. We brought him home, and he peed like all little puppies. He cried a lot the first night. We made him a separate place on the floor, but then we took him into our bed. And he calmed down. He was very emotional.”

Yulia from Kharkiv remembers her dog. His name was Tymchyk. He hated fireworks, shed a lot and could hardly tolerate car rides.

When the full-scale war broke out in Kharkiv, they had to leave. Combat actions are not limited to one day, like fireworks on New Year’s Eve.

The family stopped in Kremenchuk and stayed in an apartment not very suitable for living. But they were happy they got out. And that they were together. All of them. With the dog.

“You must take the dog with you. Any animal, you must. A dog is a part of the home. When you take your dog with you, a part of the home goes with you,” Yulia recalls.

And then Tymchyk got sick and died. The family’s memories are tightly intertwined with a sense of guilt.

“I think the move affected his health. Moreover, he picked up a tick, and we didn’t notice and treat it in time. We are guilty too. Because we missed it, he got very sick. We barely saved him then. But there were still consequences for his health, from which, in fact, he got sick again and died,” Yulia recounts.

Guilt is what weighs heavily on the loss of a pet. And it’s something that almost all grieving caretakers remember.

Ruslana lost her cat, Pyrizhok, a few months ago. He was often ill, but then the worsening of his condition came like a bolt from the blue. The girl assumes that anesthesia during dental cleaning triggered a pancreatitis flare-up.

“I still haven’t come to terms with it. I have so many questions. I think only a professional psychologist can help me overcome this. It was not just the doctors who made the decision. In many ways, it was my responsibility, and I often wonder if I have made a mistake somewhere. Yes, we all make mistakes, but a mistake at the cost of an animal’s life is too much to bear,” she says.

The hardest part for Ruslana was the decision about euthanasia. While the cat was sick and in the hospital, he was getting worse. So the family was waiting for that very call. And one day it came.

“We were in the subway. They told us he couldn’t be kept suffering any longer. We went to the clinic, expecting to see an exhausted animal. He was lying down when we arrived, but then he got up. He recognised us. However, it was the effect of the medication, nothing more. It was time to make the hardest decision,” Ruslana recounts.

Due to the russian aggression, we lose animals in situations where we could supposedly save them. Our actions are limited by shelling, fuel shortages, conditions of extreme stress.

Journalist and blogger, known to readers as Yuri Koshmarchenko, wrote a lot and humorously about his pug named Agamemnon. Many people visited Yuri’s page to read about his dog. But in March 2022, Agamemnon died. Yuri couldn’t get him to the vet in time due to shelling and fuel shortages.

“I have thoughts that I could have gone to the vet earlier. Could have found fuel faster. Or a detour route (at one point, a bridge blew up right in front of our car). Or something else. It still hurts me because of this. I don’t know what to say. Just take care of your own ones. Whoever these ‘own ones’ may be,” he says.

Oksana Zinko, a psychotherapist, says that the feeling of guilt is one of the hardest experiences. It applies, of course, to the period after the death of an animal. This is a state in which people often get stuck in their grieving.

“This situation can be explained by the fact that there is a great responsibility on the person for the fate of the animal. And caretakers cannot forgive themselves for how everything turned out,” explains the psychotherapist.

Moreover, people who have lost a friend — a dog, cat or another animal — often don’t feel they are understood and supported as they wish. So how to cope with the loss of someone who became so dear to you?

The loss of a person or an animal is often not radically different.

According to Oksana Zinko, downplaying the significance of the loss of an animal and comparing it to the loss of a person are categorically unacceptable.

“Just like between a person and a person, a relationship is built between an animal and a person,” she explains. “And often animals give us something special: unconditional love and devotion. After the loss of an animal, its caretaker goes through the same stages of grieving as in the case of the death of a loved one. This includes denial, shock, guilt and depression.”

Yulia remembers that she felt the urge to return to the rituals of walks: “I even thought about posting ads saying that I would walk with any dog. And I replaced it with just walking. At first, I took a leash, put it in my backpack and walked to our, with Tymchyk, places. I sat on a bench, talked to him, remembered, cried. It lasted about a month.”

Yuri says that he even misses what used to annoy him: snoring, piles in the corners where there’s a risk of stepping into. But the most painful thing is that nobody welcomes him at home anymore: “At first, the absence of those jumps on my head hit me straight in the heart every time.”

Ruslana also speaks about this: “When you come home and no one welcomes you, you feel like it can’t be real.”

Often people don’t understand another person’s grieving for an animal. In particular, they compare this loss to the loss of material things. But Oksana Zinko explains: when we lose someone we had a close relationship with, we grieve for our own condition as well — for how we felt when our dog, cat, friend or father was alive.

How can you help yourself to cope with and accept the loss?

“The animal gave us a lot of love. And now we face a difficult task — to give some of that love to ourselves, to take care of ourselves,” notes Oksana Zinko.

She explains that there’s a classic dual model of grieving. What is its essence? We have to allow ourselves to grieve, to cry, to be angry at this injustice, regardless of other people’s thoughts or criticism.

Tymchyk’s former caretaker rightly points out: “If a person feels that this is a significant loss, they have to go through it. From the outside, it might have seemed that I was grieving too much. I remember our friends came over, and I burst into tears when I said ‘we explained to the little one that we buried Tima in the sand.’ I think it’s not necessary to pay attention to how people will perceive it from the outside.”

But at the same time, it’s important to help yourself with the desire to live.

“Explore new things, make new plans, talk to people. It’s normal if at some point you fall back into sadness and withdraw from active social life again. Your support should remain, or rather, be strengthened by your personal forms of support — the ability to rely on yourself,” explains Oksana Zinko.

It’s also helpful to find a community of people who have gone through similar experiences.

Yuri says that he has always received sincere support from others:

“I think this is one of the important traits of Ukrainians — the ability to appreciate any life. Pay attention: when we read about rescuing operations from under rubble after shelling, there is always information that so many people were rescued, as well as a cat, dog or a parrot. Every life is sacred. Ukrainians don’t even know this as much as they naturally feel it. But I felt it myself — with the sincere condolences of many people.”

Thematic groups, chats, a friend or an acquaintance who has experienced the loss of an animal as well — they will help you go through this path a bit easier, without getting stuck in a feeling of guilt. By the way, how not to get stuck in it?

Feelings of guilt often arise regardless of how and why the animal died.

“Many people feel regret and anger at themselves, even if they know deep down that they did everything possible to save the animal,” says the psychotherapist. “Of course, when a person faces a situation, they need time to accept what happened, to get over it, to grieve. However, guilt left unchecked can gradually destroy lives. We have a choice: to control these feelings and emotions or to allow them to control us.”

Ms. Oksana explains that feelings of guilt are not just emotions. Essentially, guilt is the belief that you have done something wrong and deserve to suffer for it. The only way to influence this belief is to change what we believe in. There are several options here.

Observe your feelings of guilt. Do you notice that you’re repeating the same guilty thoughts over and over again? Choose the “stop” signal to get off this painful mental path. It could be a physical action, like taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply. Then consciously focus on something else, like your plans for tomorrow. This way, you’ll remember that there is something positive ahead in your life, not just negative things from the past.

Choose the courage to accept what cannot be changed. Repenting of mistakes doesn’t change or compensate for the past. It just drives you into a dead end. The only thing you can change now is your future. Accept this fact.

Choose balance. Feelings of guilt make us focus on the times we perceive as failures — when we were “too busy” to walk, play with or hug our pet. Or when we couldn’t take them to the vet earlier, pay attention to symptoms of illness. This prevents us from objectively seeing all the other time we spent with our pet. So the next time your mind dives into these unhappy thoughts, decide to refocus. Actively remind yourself of the good times when you were a truly responsible and caring pet owner. Most likely, this was a significant part of the time.

How to help a person next to you grieving for the loss of an animal

“The worst thing that can happen is belittlement. If you don’t know how to support, it’s better to keep silent than to say that I ‘can just get another cat’,” says Ruslana.

If you want to support someone who is grieving and avoid saying the wrong things, it’s best to inquire about how they’re feeling.

“Our idea of how we can help sometimes differs significantly from what the person needs. Some people want to be alone. Someone needs to go to a place where they have spent special time with their pet, someone needs to talk. Allow them to express their needs. If we can’t help, it’s very important not to harm,” says Oksana Zinko.

The psychologist suggests a few universal words of support: “It must be very difficult”, “I can’t even imagine how hard it is to go through this.”

However, phrases like “I know how much it hurts” should be avoided. Because we can never fully feel another person’s pain. Everyone hurts differently.

The psychotherapist also advises being cautious with religious themes. Religion touches very deep values, so it can evoke strong emotions.

How to help a child comprehend the loss

“Tima died before our eyes,” recalls Yulia, “the little one was at home. He saw our reaction, but then he didn’t quite understand what was happening. He asked, and we explained to him what happened. We told him that Tima died and that Den (dad) buried him in the sand.”

Often, the death of a pet is the first death a child has encountered. And how adults help them through this can affect their future attitude toward death. The best thing you can do is to be honest with the child, says the psychotherapist.

“It’s important to explain in advance that every animal grows old and eventually dies. Tell your child the truth, but be careful. Never tell them about clouds or other fantasies. This creates distrust of parents and the world, which is very difficult to overcome later,” says Oksana Zinko. “When the pet’s death has already occurred, certain rituals can help say goodbye to the pet, cope with the loss and gradually accept it.”

When choosing a ritual, focus on what may resonate with your family. You can plant a tree in honour of the pet or write a farewell letter. Perhaps the ritual will be related to something important in the pet’s life.

“We cremated Pyrizhok and brought the urn home. Then we decided to scatter his ashes from the window. Pyrizhok adored windows, he could sit there for hours. It was a kind of feline Netflix. And we decided that such a farewell would be the most appropriate,” recalls Ruslana.

***

Soon after losing Pyrizhok, Ruslana’s family adopted a kitten from a shelter. The girl says it wasn’t she who saved him, but he saved her. Yulia isn’t ready for another dog yet, but she happily interacts with other dogs on the street, which somehow replaces the absence of Tymchyk for her.

It’s been a year without Agamemnon for Yuri, and he’s currently not ready to be responsible for another pet either.

Oksana Zinko explains that people choose different strategies: some immediately get another pet, while others close this question for themselves forever. There can be no universal answer here. Everyone has their own way of acceptance. But most importantly, it should bring peace to their souls.

Only 22% of apartments for rent in Ukraine are available for people with pets. This was found out by UAnimals and DIM.RIA during a joint study of the residential rental market in September 2023.

Meanwhile, due to the full-scale invasion of russia, internal migration continues in our country. People move from the occupied or frontline regions to safer places with whole families, often leaving their lifetime possessions at home but taking their pet friends with them.

Today’s article is about how they manage to rent housing in Ukraine and what helps in this. We share the stories of internally displaced pet owners and advice from people with experience in the rental market.

“Is it possible to live with the elderly?”: the story of Rudyk and Baghira’s owners from Bakhmut

Natalia Zubar evacuated from Bakhmut with her large family. When it became too loud in the city [ed.: due to shelling], everyone left: she and her husband, her sister with her son, elderly parents, a male cat, and a female cat. The male cat Rudyk is a village boy whom they took as a small kitten, and the female cat Baghira is a black beauty who came to them for a foster home and treatment after a serious injury, but she was never given to anyone. The pets arrived in ordinary bags to the capital itself, where Natalia’s son, Petro, lived and studied. There, the family started looking for a separate home.

“We tried not to get nervous — we didn’t even look at the ad that categorically stated ‘no pets’. But still, there were strange preconceptions. For example, one realtor said that traces of cat urine were visible under ultraviolet light. And if one of my little ones [ed.: pets] ‘messes up’, even if I clean it right away, it won’t be possible to rent out the apartment to anyone afterwards. I just imagined how people who want to rent an apartment walk around with ultraviolet light and look for traces of cats,” says Natalia.

Eventually, the family found a rather spacious three-room apartment – the kind of apartment that is usually described as “in need of repair”. In order to live in more or less comfortable conditions, they really made the repairs. But they still remember the process of looking for housing with a nervous smile. 

“We always asked cautiously: Is it possible to live with the elderly? And with pets? And with a disabled person?” says Natalia, who has been using a wheelchair for many years. “Sometimes the conversation didn’t even end with cats.”

Natalia says that anything can happen. Recently, a parrot flew onto her son’s balcony, which either escaped or was deliberately set free. There was no pet clause in the lease agreement, but the owner of the apartment was moved by the story that the parrot had chosen her apartment on its own and did not demand that he be evicted.

Advice

Antonina Semenova, a homeowner: “Look for different options. In my case, for example, tenants without pets and children consistently ‘killed’ apartments more than ‘a herd of horses with 3 senior kindergarten groups.’ Therefore, if in the future I rent out my apartment in the suburbs of Kyiv again, I will write ‘only with children and/or pets’.”

Kateryna Honchar, a tenant: “For these almost two years, I have changed housing three times. I have two cats. When I searched with the help of realtors, they asked for a deposit of $1,000 for the animals. Those, who did not plan to move but were forced to flee the war, do not always have such ‘extra’ funds. But this is not the only way. In the previous apartment, under the condition of a long lease, our pets were given a trial period of 3 months. They are well-behaved, so everything went well.”

“Oh, do you have cats? No way”: the story of owners of a cat and kittens from Siversk

In April 2022, Yuliia Deineko evacuated from the town of Siversk in the Donetsk region to the village of Horyn in the Ivano-Frankivsk region. And a year later, the family moved to the capital, as the children were enrolled to study there. They also took their big cat family to Kyiv — a mother cat and her newborn kittens.

“We knocked about hostels for a long time, moved and tried to rent housing. It didn’t always work out,” Yuliia recalls. “When we were looking [ed.: for the house], one realtor assured us that we would not find anything with cats. She told us to hand them over to a shelter, and there would be no problems. But I couldn’t do that!”

Yuliia calls those times of looking for a place to live the circles of hell because she was in despair from constant insults, hints about the possibility of getting rid of pets, emphatic refusals and scare stories about the inevitability of damaged wallpaper or destroyed parquet.

“These words are still in my ears: ‘Oh, do you have cats? No way…’,” says the woman. “I think we were lucky: the owner of the apartment was urgently renting it out because she was moving. I was constantly monitoring the announcements, and as soon as a new one appeared, I immediately called. We met, talked and agreed on the cat issue. She has a cat herself, so she treated our pets normally.”

The family rents an apartment on the left bank of Kyiv. They live together with cats that have not damaged anything.

Advice

Olena Vincent, a tenant of housing in Georgia: “In Batumi, there is much more housing than those who want to rent it. In new buildings, there are residents in at most one-third of the apartments. Over the past six months, a lot of people have left Georgia, the high season is far away, and it is not necessarily true that it will be at all. Therefore, the prices are falling, and the owners are happy to find people willing to rent their housing. Half of my friends rent apartments with dogs, two friends — with four cats, and I — with three cats and a dog. And we are talking about more or less new, good apartments. Housing in Soviet conditions [ed.: home improvements] or without appliances is rented out very rarely here.”

Olena Antipova, administrator of the Facebook group for finding housing for tenants with pets: “I would advise you to write as much detail as possible about yourself, your pet and the housing requirements in the ads. Tell where you are from, where you study or work, in which location you are looking for housing and how much you are willing to pay. If possible, add a photo of your pet. I remember one case when an apartment after renovation was rented with a “no pets” condition. A girl with a dog came to watch. After seeing her [ed.: a dog], the landlady agreed. Unfortunately, not everyone is so lucky. Finding housing with pets is very difficult, but possible.”

“We decided to take a puppy”: the story of a doctor and a soldier who travel around the frontline regions with a dog

Daria Volkova is the last doctor who left the semi-surrounded Soledar. She helped people who stayed in their hometown in shelters and basements. She already evacuated wearing a bulletproof vest, which her 13-year-old beloved cat Archie clung to. Daria recalls that this helped her pass the checkpoints quickly: a tired woman with red eyes and a frightened cat around her neck answered all possible questions only with their look.

“We drove to Pokrovsk, where a friend put me in an empty three-room apartment near the railway station, regardless of the cat. Archie survived a month with me in Pokrovsk. And then there were three more happy months with my parents at a rented dacha [ed.: summer house] in Poltava. One night he left and never came back. Perhaps his time had come. This is still my great pain,” says Daria.

Her husband Oleksii joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine. His path is also the path of Daria, who has lived almost along the entire front line over these two years.

“I changed houses every 2-4 months. I remember it like in a kaleidoscope. When I lived in Sloviansk, we decided to get a fox terrier puppy. We were looking for this particular breed because my husband has childhood and teenage unmet needs,” smiles Daria. “And Tobik turned out to be a salvation for both of us — for me, so that I wouldn’t go crazy from everything that was happening around, and for him — a kind of rehabilitation. The dog helps to survive everything. I can’t describe how he waits, meets and loves Oleksii!”

Daria says that renting an apartment with a dog is not easy. Especially considering the fact that it has to be changed often. Now they live in the Kharkiv region.

“It took incredible effort to rent a private house. We deliberately looked for a house with territory in order to let the teenage dog out and train it to use the toilet,” the woman says. “When we settled in, during the inspection of the house and territory, it turned out that only the concrete path to the gate was ‘fixed’ for us, and everything else belonged to the owner, who lived nearby behind the fence. Although the ad promised 3 hundred square metres of land. We had to look for another place to live.”

However, Daria recalls that incredible stories also happened. Once she rented a house on the territory of the manor the size of a recreation centre. The owners, a married couple, loved the dog as their own and allowed him almost everything. Daria remembers this sincere humanity with gratitude.

“I think we did everything we could for our pets. Sometimes I watch ‘dog groups’: people abandon pets and leave forever. Sometimes they leave them on a chain. Perhaps they are afraid, in particular, of these difficulties with finding housing…”

Advice

Olha Kononenko, a friend of a tenant with an animal: “My friend once submitted an ad on social networks on behalf of her cat, and everything worked out. He wrote something like this in the introduction: ‘My name is Dzhanho, and I am a cat. I’m a pretty smart cat as I manage my social media pages by myself. Yep, I know how to do it, and how am I worse than my human roommates who do just that all day long: tap-tap, tap-tap on a laptop keyboard?’. This text was funny, but it contained information that was usually of interest to apartment owners. For example, the cat complained that back in his early childhood he was deprived of the very thing that some people associated with dignity. Therefore, he does not mark the territory and smells only of shampoo. It was creative, original, and it helped.”

Natalia Adamovych, a tenant: “Hiding that there are pets, in my opinion, is not okay at all. The only thing is that it is easier to talk about them already during the meeting. When landlords like a potential tenant in communication, they become more accommodating in some matters.”

Comment from expert

Natalia Birova, Real Estate Management Specialist

For tenants

In our country, it is currently difficult for pet owners to rent housing, so I advise you to offer an increased guarantee payment if possible. In this way it is often possible to convince even those who write in capital letters “NO PETS” in the ad. It’s not just about the money — this way you’ll show a conscious sense of responsibility.

In my memory, no one has ever said: “Yes, my pet can damage something.” But I know such cases when pets that have lived in an apartment for 10 years and have never damaged anything, start to cause damage in new conditions. You should be ready, both morally and financially, to be responsible for the consequences. Even if the owner of the property is pet-friendly and does not demand a double guarantee payment or compensation for damaged property.

You can provide recommendations from your previous place of residence, which is a huge advantage. Sometimes people say that they are ready to invite [ed.: a landlord] to the apartment where they currently live, give the contact details of the current owner and even send videos and photos of the apartment. It works.

In no case should you persuade the owners. It is better for you to look for the right person. Because this violates the equality of relationship: people, feeling that you simply have nowhere to go, often start, as they say, “hoovering”. Even if you are really in a hopeless situation, don’t talk about it. You are not an unfortunate person who out of pity was allowed to live with a pet, but a tenant who pays for a service by mutual agreement.

For landlords (landladies)

I advise you to communicate with future tenants, be interested in their history and assess their adequacy and responsibility. In particular, it is worth learning about people from various sources — from open registers to feedback in groups. From my experience, it is people who damage property much more often than pets. The order in the house will depend on people, not on the pets.

Carefully prepare an agreement, with all the details specified. The agreement should protect both parties — you and the tenants.

Immediately arrange for regular visits at an agreed time. Once every month or two, you should check what is happening with your property, so that it does not turn out to be completely ruined in half a year. Usually, tenants with pets offer you to visit themselves to make sure everything is okay.

Specify mandatory cleaning after eviction. The next tenants may be allergic, and the previous stay of a pet in the apartment should not harm them and your business in general.

Blow pipes with a hypnotic, nooses, flashlights and treats are the things that stray animal catchers always have about them. Some of them also bring a shovel to get the animal out from under the rubble (if necessary), and cardboard to avoid lying on the cold ground during observations. All for the sake of sneaking closer and catching a street animal for sterilization.

Since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, the situation with stray animals has significantly worsened throughout Ukraine, especially in the frontline regions. This is evidenced by the results of a study conducted by  Socioinform Ukrainian Centre for Public Opinion Research. Thus, in the frontline regions, the number of cats and dogs cared for by animal volunteers has increased by an average of 60%, and in shelters — by more than 100%. 

We spoke with Khrystyna Drahomaretska and Serhii Abramov,  professional animal catchers in UAnimals sterilization missions in the east and south of the country, about why animal sterilization is the right decision in such circumstances and what is the role of catchers in this.

What is the professional path of catchers like?

Khrystyna and Serhii have in common not only cooperation with UAnimals, but also the fact that they came to the profession of animal catchers from completely different fields. Khrystyna comes from Odesa and was an architect in the past. She likes this work, but plans to return to architectural projects after the war.

Outside of work, the girl always volunteered a lot at the shelter, where dogs are fed and treated, sometimes she herself found a home for the animals or fostered them. After February 24, 2022, Khrystyna lost her job, so the girl had more time to help animals. This is how volunteering gradually turned into a new profession for Khrystyna — an animal catcher.

“A full-scale invasion began, and a lot of animals had to be evacuated. Later, we took them to shelters from the de-occupied territories as well. Then I started thinking globally about how to reduce the problem of the population of stray animals. Therefore, I got to know foreign volunteers who were ready to help with sterilization,” tells Khrystyna.

Mastering a profession that was new for her, the girl asked her colleagues about everything and also watched special videos on the Internet. Even at the beginning of her journey as a catcher, Khrystyna understood: it is very difficult to establish contact with most stray animals. Therefore, she bought the necessary equipment for catching and learnt in practice.

“I tried to say ‘come here, don’t be afraid’, but it doesn’t make sense. A wild dog looks into my eyes and sees a threat: I can catch it and lock it up somewhere. However, if it is very hungry, it will go to the smelly cat food, even in spite of its fear,” Khrystyna tells about her tricks.

The girl explains that it is cat food that most effectively attracts stray animals, even dogs. The secret here is the smell: the more fragrant the treat, the better it attracts the animal’s attention. According to this feature, even cheap sausage is superior to pieces of meat. And the consistency of the food is also important: the animal has to chew it for a long time on the spot, not grab it and run away. Therefore, catchers often use pates as bait.

Serhii is also from the south of Ukraine, from neighbouring Mykolaiv. Before the full-scale invasion, he worked as a photographer and videographer. He says that he could not even think that his life would change so dramatically. His path to becoming an animal catcher also began with volunteering.

“I came to my friend Anna Kurkurina and offered to help her with anything during the war. She had just begun an intensive process of sterilizing animals outside the city, and there was a problem: there was no one to catch them. Anna asked if I could do it, and I decided to give it a try. Experience came with time,” recalls Serhii.

The man says that the most important thing for him when catching animals is calmness. That is why he tries to clear his head of unnecessary thoughts when he goes to work.

“The animal feels your mood. Even from a distance of a few dozen metres, it understands what a person wants from it. If you are nervous, it will feel it and will not let you get close. If you know how to deal with emotions, then it is easier to catch an animal,” says Serhii.

Insights into the profession — from tools to risks

As a catcher, Serhii has already travelled all over the Mykolaiv region, helped animals from flooded Kherson and thus fulfilled orders in the east of the country. For example, in the Sumy region, he caught a huge Mastiff at the request of one of the shelters. It was this trip that the man remembers the most. He recalls that he had to drive almost across the country through snow and fog to fulfil this request. Several animal rights activists had already tried to catch the dog, but no one succeeded. Catching this dog really turned out to be an extra credit task. He even had to use a hypnotic: Serhii shot three times from a special anesthesia tube.

When catchers shoot hypnotics not from pneumatics, but from blow pipes, the animal can evade. It reacts faster than a needle with a hypnotic reaches it. Therefore, in order not to waste the drug, you need to get as close as possible to the animal. Serhii remembers: the first time he shot a dog, even with a hypnotic charge, he felt uneasy.

“I have the following point: if you can avoid shooting a dog [with a gun with a hypnotic], then I don’t do it. That’s more humane. The sound of gunshots can be traumatic for the animal, and it is better not to abuse of hypnotics,” says Serhii.

There is a detail in catching [an animal] with a hypnotic: a dog that has been hit does not fall asleep immediately. Meanwhile, the animal begins to run away, scared, and hides in places that are difficult for people to reach, such as in sewers or basements. Serhii says that sometimes you have to run a lot to catch the dog.

“Everything depends on the dog’s personality: some of them fall asleep instantly, and others run away, but there are still dogs “on adrenaline” — this hormone neutralises the anesthesia that we inject. Once I shot a dog three times with hypnotics, but it did not fall asleep. Then I couldn’t find it for a long time. Then I see: it is standing and looking at me, although by all accounts it should already have been lying down and sleeping,” tells Serhii. 

But for Khrystyna, it is mentally most difficult to work with nooses for catching animals. She says that a dog may bite its tongue or hit its muzzle in an attempt to free itself. It is difficult for the girl to look at it.

Khrystyna used to try to catch dogs with her hands, but now she has a lot of scars because of it, so she stopped doing so. She says: she was worried about every bite to avoid rabies. The work trip sometimes lasts up to a month, and the girl can’t go to the hospital there: there is not enough time or there is no hospital nearby.

“I barely convinced the doctors to give me a rabies vaccination. I told them that I worked in a war zone and caught animals biting me very often. The doctors replied: as long as there is no bite, we cannot vaccinate you. They said the drug was very expensive, and they didn’t want to waste it for no reason,” tells Khrystyna about her journey to rabies vaccination.

Fortunately, the girl eventually managed to convince the doctors with arguments that there were few people like her and every bite could be fatal for her.

Later, it saved Khrystyna’s life. Once she neglected the safety rules and did not wear rubber gloves while working with the dog. The girl touched its mucus and, without washing her hands, scratched her eye. The dog turned out to be rabid and eventually died, and Khrystyna received a new vaccination just a week after interacting with it. The catcher is sure: if it were not for the first vaccination, the infection could have already affected the brain during such a long period of time.

Even more than dog bites, the girl is afraid of cat scratches. She says that she does not understand this phenomenon, but their scratches are much more painful than dog bites. In addition, infectious irritations or purulent secretions appear as a result.

But bites and scratches are not the only dangers that threaten animal catchers, as they sometimes work just a few dozen kilometres from the places of hostilities. Therefore, in sterilization missions, you should not forget about your own safety: watch your feet carefully and react to extraneous sounds.

At the same time, Khrystyna says that sometimes it is easier to work near the demarcation line because there are no people. She explains: people often do not know about her profession and rush to protect animals, sometimes even with a fight.

“There was a situation when I shot a dog with a hypnotic. One old lady immediately ran up to me and cursed me for several generations,” says Khrystyna.

Serhii has the opposite opinion: “It is more difficult to work in frontline areas, as dogs are also stressed by explosions. They don’t understand what’s going on and panic.”

Dreams and senses in the work of catchers

Khrystyna emphasises: her dream as a professional catcher is to ensure that there are no stray animals left in Ukraine. The girl is convinced that people should adopt animals only after special training or surveys. A person must show that he/she can keep an animal and pay for its treatment. Sterilization also contributes to the reduction of stray animals. The girl had her own pet dog called Milady sterilized as well.

«I have a shepherd dog, and I sterilized her. I don’t need offspring from Milady. She is my friend, not a means of earning money on the breed,” explains Khrystyna.

Khrystyna and Serhii say that being a catcher is very exhausting. To stay in this business for a long time, you need to have stress resistance and endurance, and also understand the importance of your work.

“Few people are ready to do this job. There are people who do what thousands of others can do at work. And in order to become a catcher, you need more than just love for animals, you need a desire to understand how it works, an understanding of animal psychology,” says Khrystyna.

Serhii confirms the words of his colleague: “This is meticulous, dirty work. It takes physical and mental effort to climb through bushes, dumps and ditches to find dogs. But this is a way to help stray animals. As sometimes you see there are more and more of them, and you understand: you must solve this issue somehow.“

The man says that sometimes he has to perform more than his main duties: “Being a catcher means being a universal fighter.” For example, if a dog is injured or has an injured paw, the catcher also takes the animal to an X-ray.

It also happens that the work of catchers literally saves the lives of animals.

“Someone tied the dog’s muzzle with a piece of iron so that it could not open its mouth at all. Because of such a “muzzle mask”, the dog had not eaten anything for 2 weeks. The animal rights activists came, tried to catch it with their own hands, ran and fussed. The dog got scared and hid in an abandoned chicken coop. When I approached, the dog was sitting calmly, probably it decided to give up. We removed the piece of iron under anesthesia, and we saw that his face was cut to the bone,” says Serhii.

He is quite happy when such cases end happily: the dog not only survived, but also found a family.

The photoes of Serhii are from the photographer Gian Marco Benedetto