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.

Natalka is sitting on the porch of a village clubhouse in Novoosynove, Kharkiv region. The roar of the frontline echoes in the background. Smoke rises on the horizon.

“What are you doing now?” I ask.

“Preparing a solution. There’s a dog feeling unwell over there. We’ll give it an IV.”

A massive dark dog is sleeping in a cage under a birch tree. An IV is set up and hung from the tree’s lower branch. Nearby, cages hold animals awaiting surgery in the UAnimals veterinary vehicle.

We speak with Natalka during a UAnimals veterinary mission in the Kharkiv region, near Kupiansk, where veterinarians have long been absent. Here, Natalka and her team sterilize animals and provide medical assistance.

— The locals in Novoosynove seem to recognize you. This isn’t your first visit, is it?

— We were here in the summer, and people have gotten somewhat used to us. Back then, this place was much livelier: stores were open, and there were more residents. But since then, the situation has worsened. Fewer people remain, and the atmosphere has grown more somber. The store that used to operate now serves as a temporary shelter for animals.

— When you chose this profession, did you imagine your life would look like this?

— No, not at all! No veterinarian envisions their life this way!

My mother is a doctor, and I also considered a medical career. However, I didn’t want to work with people and chose veterinary medicine instead. Turns out, veterinarians often work more with people than with animals. There was a time when I doubted my life choices. I left university in my third year. Later, I returned with a clear purpose and have been dedicated to this profession ever since.

Nowadays, everyone does what they can. Through the Accessible Sterilization project, we can sterilize stray animals and vaccinate them against rabies. That’s what we do. The project’s goal is to make sterilization and rabies vaccination accessible for stray animals and pets belonging to low-income families. We also want people who take care of street animals to have the opportunity to sterilize them.

A long time ago, around 15 years ago, I began visiting animal shelters. At the time, I was working at a clinic and was invited to help at the Hostomel shelter. The conditions there were, to put it mildly, poor. I saw animals giving birth within the shelter because they weren’t sterilized. Many puppies and kittens had illnesses and died. That’s when I had the idea to make animal sterilization more accessible.

— Why sterilize stray or street animals?

— Many animals are born uncontrollably.

Why do we encounter cruelty toward animals? I believe the main problem is that there are too many of them. People commit various acts that degrade human dignity — like drowning kittens or puppies. Additionally, kittens, puppies, and mature animals get sick when there is no one to take care of them. It is an endless cycle of suffering.

There are no laws regulating animal reproduction. Often, people refuse to sterilize their pets. Usually, it’s an immature attitude. They claim to feel sorry for the animal but then go on to kill kittens or puppies. This is the cruelty we strive to curb.

— What does your work look like?

— My colleagues — Yuliya Tkachenko and Lolita Polishchuk — and I have a stationary office in Kyiv where we perform surgeries on animals a few times a month.

However, most of our work is done on our trips. We operate in frontline towns as well as in the Kyiv region. We perform surgeries in Novi Petrivtsi, north of Kyiv, and Ivankiv, near Chornobyl. There, we rent spaces and sterilize cats and dogs brought in by low-income residents. We invite people via various social media groups. We also assist the Sirius shelter, which is struggling financially and lacks a veterinarian.

— Do you remember your first field mission?

— We started operating in villages before the full-scale war. However, I distinctly recall one trip already during the invasion. We traveled north of Kyiv to Kukhari, a village by the Teteriv River. Our army was holding back the advance on Kyiv there. Tanks passed through the village, and a major battle took place. The village was completely destroyed — only chimneys remained standing. It looked like a scene from a World War II film. It was deeply disturbing. We worked in a clubhouse that a caretaker was trying to rebuild, even though his own house had also been destroyed.

When we arrived, it seemed like no one lived there anymore. The reception was scheduled for 10 a.m., and suddenly, people began appearing from all directions.

Despite their destroyed homes and shattered lives, they came to sterilize their animals!

Our first mission to a frontline area was to Lyman after its liberation. It was winter, and we worked in an abandoned veterinary clinic. Seeing it was heartbreaking because it had been someone’s business. [During the occupation], Russian forces used the clinic — they vandalized everything inside.

The city was in ruins. We watched as our military vehicles and soldiers moved toward the front line… but we didn’t see them returning. The rumbling was constant. The sky glowed orange. It felt as if there were some big millstones where the frontline was, grinding people.

— How do people usually react to your work when you visit them?

— Soldiers care a lot about the fate of animals. They ask us to evacuate them, treat them, and bring them in for sterilization. All those who have already been affected by serious military events understand why sterilization is necessary and why animals should be vaccinated against rabies. After all, they are the ones who feed these animals and take care of them. 

For example, in the Zaporizhzhia region, particularly in Orikhiv, there have been recorded cases of rabies, and there are many foxes. We traveled there to vaccinate animals from rabies, and many people willingly came forward to get vaccines. There’s no resistance — on the contrary, people are grateful for the opportunity to vaccinate their animals.

— And who’s this joining us?

— These are Lyman and Richie — my dogs. They work here with us.

Richie is a dog from Kukhari, that heavily devastated village we visited after the Kyiv region was liberated.

We collaborate with a volunteer there who is very committed to preventing stray puppies and kittens from being born. However, due to the full-scale war, she couldn’t keep up, and Richie was born. We had to take the puppies for rehoming, but I decided to keep Richie.

And it’s clear where Lyman comes from! He’s from Lyman.

We were going on a trip to collect puppies that a soldier had asked us to evacuate, but we accidentally went to the wrong checkpoint. We explained, “We’re here for the yellow puppies.” They brought out Lyman. He’s black! A tiny puppy with no teeth. We said, “We have nowhere to take him…” and they replied, “Take him, or he’ll die here.” So we brought him with us and had to bottle-feed him. I thought about putting him up for adoption, but this little dog made me feel happy. Now he’s with me.

— Do you feel your work is making a difference?

— In Ivankiv, where we systematically sterilize stray animals, there are no unsterilized strays left. In fact, there are very few animals on the streets altogether. There were even a few seasons when people couldn’t find kittens to adopt. That’s an excellent indicator.

We’ve been to Lyman three or four times, and we’re quite pleased with the results. Most of the dogs there now have ear tags, which means they’ve been sterilized.

I also feel that our work is not in vain when people say “thank you.”

“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.

Our first attempt to talk with Viktor Vorotnikov, a veterinarian and head of the Veterinarians Without Borders organization from Krasnohrad, Kharkiv region, was put off. “I have surgeries starting soon, sorry. They will take the whole day,” explained the doctor. However, we managed to connect the next day. “Convenient or not—if I promised, I have to keep it,” Viktor laughed.

On the day we couldn’t speak, he was in Izium, where he, along with two assistants and another veterinarian, performed around 70 surgeries. Last year alone, his clinic team sterilized up to 15,000 animals. Since the start of the full-scale war, Viktor and his colleagues have operated on over 5,000 animals rescued during sterilization missions and UAnimals evacuation trips.

What is it like, to save animals affected by war? Does the veterinarian witness more humanity or indifference? Viktor shared his experiences.

— How did you connect your life with veterinary medicine?

— I have dreamed of saving animals since childhood! Even in play, I pretended to treat rabbits—one had an “earache,” another had a “sore leg.” As I grew up, these games became my daily reality. I first studied at a vocational school in the veterinary department, then graduated from the Kharkiv Veterinary Institute. I’ve been in this profession for 42 years.

Now, I work in my own clinic and in the field. We have two mobile surgery units, so we travel to frontline areas. In 5-6 days on such a mission, we manage to operate on at least 300, sometimes even 600 animals.

We sterilize some, while others need treatment for injuries. I also provide consultations during these missions, advising people on how to care for their animals, what vaccinations they need, and when. Outside of surgeries, I see up to 80 patients a day. I often help animals with concussions. It’s similar to treating humans—they need rest, care, and medications that relieve pain and symptoms.

— Do you notice how animals are treated in areas close to the combat zone during these trips?

— I encounter a lot of human indifference. Sometimes, for example, animals are left chained up. I understand that in wartime, anything can happen—perhaps the animals’ caretakers were caught in shelling or had to leave quickly. But at least unchain the dog! 

Still, there’s more kindness. 

I’m always struck by the soldiers who bring us cats and dogs. Recently, they brought us a cat named Vasya with fractures of everything that could be broken. He’s currently living at our clinic, receiving treatment, and waiting for his caretaker to return from the frontline.

Soldiers risk their lives, but don’t forget to help the most vulnerable. Then, they call us to check on the animals because they worry about them. 

Sometimes, I think this helps the soldiers themselves, too—it distracts them from the horrors of war by allowing them to focus on helping.

— Over your 42 years in this profession, have you noticed changes in how animals are treated?

— Absolutely! Especially towards stray animals. The attitude used to be very harsh—they could even be shot. Now, there are far more initiatives to control their population humanely. Our organization, Veterinarians Without Borders, was one of the first to implement such a program. Since 2017, we have been catching, sterilizing, vaccinating, and microchipping cats and dogs and then releasing them. We’ve done this in seven regions in the East of Ukraine, and I’ve personally participated in these missions.

— What advice would you give to those who rescue animals near the frontline?

— It’s very simple: safety first. When rescuing animals, you must think about your own life, too. 

I conduct first aid training for volunteers and always urge them to plan everything in advance. You need to be prepared for any unforeseen situation and know how to help an animal in those conditions.

Consider the types of injuries animals might have (gunshot wounds, concussions, fractures) and have all the necessary supplies with you. Also, keep in mind that sometimes animals need to be rescued from water or may flee into mined areas. In such cases, special equipment will be needed. 

This is serious and dangerous work, not just a “photo op.” Even a sincere desire to help isn’t enough. So if you plan to volunteer there, consult with professionals—those who have already worked near the frontline. This will help you avoid mistakes that could cost you your life.

— From your experience, which animals are the hardest to evacuate?

— Evacuating any animal is challenging in its own way. There are frightened, aggressive dogs that need to be unchained first. Sometimes an animal has to be pulled out of a pit before it can be evacuated. 

But in my opinion, the hardest animals to save are those with underlying health issues. Sometimes we find animals with anorexia or starving from hunger. Transporting them is extremely difficult—you must carefully plan the evacuation, ensuring access to oxygen and water.

— Do you have any pets of your own?

— Of course! I treated them myself, too, by the way.

— Розкажіть про них, будь ласка.

— Please tell us about them, please.

— There’s my cat, Harik, a Sphynx who was evacuated from Vuhledar. He’s a large, dignified cat with a stern look but very gentle and well-mannered. 

I also have a wonderful little dog, Tobik. He was hit by a car, and this little guy—a toy terrier—had a pelvic fracture and a prolapsed intestine. There was little hope that we could save him. But Tobik survived, and now he’s such a great friend!

— Lastly, could you share what discourages you in your work and what inspires you?

— Well, what inspires me, of course, is when a difficult surgery ends successfully.

What discourages me… It’s the indifference of people towards animals and nature. 

For example, in 2020, we rescued a bear that an oligarch had “played with” until he got bored. The animal lived in a cramped enclosure. When we saw her, the bear was already paralyzed in her hind legs and was extremely emaciated. We consulted with colleagues from other countries on how to help her and shared her test results. Everyone unanimously said she wouldn’t survive. But we managed to stabilize her enough to place her in Natalia Popova’s Wild Animal Rescue Center. The bear lived there for another two years before passing away just before the full-scale invasion began.

What discourages me now is how all living things are suffering because of Russia. What can I say? If we save the natural world, we save ourselves as well. That’s what I believe.

The UAnimals volunteer community is celebrating its first anniversary! Today, it boasts over 2,300 members, each contributing uniquely to animal protection. Volunteers assist in shelters, participate in nature clean-ups, evacuate animals from dangerous areas, or distribute food in frontline cities and villages.

Viktoriya Ovsiannikova recently returned from such a trip. She distributed a hundred kilograms of cat and dog food in the Kharkiv region, including in Zolochiv and the villages of Hubarivka and Kalynove, which have been ravaged by shelling. In these cities and villages, residents care for many animals abandoned by their previous owners.

Viktoriya lives in Bohodukhiv, Kharkiv region, where she works as a secretary in a medical institution. Her husband, who initially helped with animal volunteering, joined the Armed Forces this year.

Outside of her work with UAnimals, Viktoriya leads an active animal protection life. Thanks to her and her friend Yuliya Kachkariova, many homeless animals find new families. They also ensure these animals are sterilized, aiming to reduce the number of stray dogs and cats in Bohodukhiv. Viktoriya shared all of this in the interview.

Operation Puppy Rescue and Animal Protection in Bohodukhiv   

I have always felt sorry for stray animals, but what could I do? I would feed them and move on. I lacked the resolve to do more until one particular incident.

In 2019, a video appeared on our community’s social media about a homeless dog in Bohodukhiv that had given birth to ten puppies. The video urged people to adopt them. In our town lives a veterinarian, Yuliya Kachkariova, who had previously given me advice over the phone when my cat was sick. We have kept in touch on social media. Then, we both saw the post about the street dogs at the same time and decided to go see if we could help.

In the meantime, the puppies had become a bit too popular: many people approached them, scaring them into hiding. Yuliya and I spent two months catching them from under concrete slabs and giving them away. It was an entire operation that brought us closer together.

This friendship gave me the strength and support to help animals more actively. Yuliya already had experience finding homes for stray cats and dogs, but now we do it together. We also often temporarily take animals in because there are no shelters in our town.

Yuliya spays and neuters stray dogs and cats for free. We also have a charity account where residents of the Bohodukhiv community can donate money for spaying and neutering or treatment if they want to support stray animals.

Previously, Bohodukhiv residents were wary of sterilization, especially the religious ones. They believed it was a sin. But recently, a local priest had his dog sterilized and told his congregation about it. Since then, their attitude has changed. They say: sterilize your pet and have a clear conscience!

Practically all the stray animals in our town are now sterilized. I believe this has led to fewer aggressive animals in Bohodukhiv. They roam the town peacefully, and no one chases them away. On the contrary, lately, I’ve seen people placing water for the animals in the park and near various businesses. Many people at the market take care of the strays. Attitudes toward animals in Bohodukhiv are changing. I hope that in the future, conflicts between people and animals will be minimal.

Legal Victory  

In June, a person in our community was punished for animal abuse. I spent seven months visiting various authorities to make it happen, and I was the one who reported it to the police.

In a village near Bohodukhiv, there is a man who kept animals but didn’t feed them. We believe he took his dog to the forest, put it in a sack, and abandoned it. The dog chewed through the sack and survived, later found by people. However, there was no direct evidence that the owner did this, although neighbors had long known about his treatment of animals. Later, this same man got a puppy and chained it up. After some time, the puppy died from the cold.

I didn’t know how to proceed. I should have called the investigative team, but a patrol arrived instead. Again, it was impossible to prove that the owner’s actions led to the animal’s death. But I am sure that was the case.

The owner was fined for improper animal care (under Article 154 of the Code of Administrative Offenses). Previously, no one in the community dealt with such cases. If someone beat a dog or took it to the forest, people would say, “Well, it’s their dog, they can do whatever they want.” Now, we have a precedent where the owner was punished for such actions.

And now, I know how to act in such cases.

Evacuating Animals from Kharkiv: Combat Parrots and Other Rescues

At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, my husband and I transported many animals. When serious shelling began in Kharkiv, it was quiet in our area. We understood that many people would leave Kharkiv, and there would be trouble with animals there. I was subscribed to many Kharkiv groups, and people started posting, “Take our dog” and “Looking for families for our puppies.” We brought animals from Kharkiv to Bohodukhiv and found owners for them. I was most surprised that in difficult times, people were willing to take in animals, some even multiple ones.

On our first trip, such exotic animals were in the car! Five puppies were in two boxes in the trunk. Two cages with parrots were on the back seat, and a guinea pig was in a small carrier. When we approached a checkpoint, the soldiers looked into our car, and my husband said, “Do you need combat parrots?”

The emotions are hard to describe… I remember now with tears in my eyes. It was scary then, but everything worked out thanks to people who were willing to take animals into their families.

Violetta Tohobytska, a doctoral student at the National University of Civil Protection of Ukraine, helped us a lot in Kharkiv. She sheltered many animals. Violetta lives in the Kholodna Hora area (a locality in the western part of Kharkiv). She went to Saltivka (the eastern part of the city), which was heavily shelled and took animals to her place. We met her in Kholodna Hora, took the animals, and transported them further. There were people in Kharkiv who went to dangerous areas to save animals.

Sara the Shepherd Dog

In the early days of the full-scale invasion, when Kharkiv residents were hiding in the subway, a woman called me. She said, “I’m a veterinarian. Yesterday, a dog was brought to me in the subway, and they asked me to euthanize it. Now I’m sitting in the underground with a shepherd dog. Can you find it a home?” It was a generally healthy shepherd dog named Sara. The people said they were leaving and couldn’t take Sara with them, “If you want, we’ll leave her with you, or we’ll inject her with something, and that will be it.” Of course, the doctor refused. These people came back the next day and said they tried to poison the dog, but the poison didn’t work. They just left Sara there and went away.

Sara was 9 years old and, though not ill, had poor eyesight. It was wartime, people were leaving… And here was an old shepherd dog — who would need her?

It was February 26, 2022. People were afraid to go to Kharkiv. Even my husband refused. I found a driver in Bohodukhiv who still went and picked up Sara.

I was worried because she was an adult dog, and I had only dealt with puppies before. But it turned out that Sara was very smart, well-behaved, and calm. We concluded she was a service dog because she knew all the commands.

My friend Olha agreed to take her. She prepared a place in the boiler room with good conditions. But soon, she called and said, “You know, the dog is missing. “How could she get out of the boiler room if you have a door there?” We started searching. The shepherd dog had poor vision, and there was a lot of traffic in the city center! I had already lost hope, but the next day, I saw her at the market. We found Sara.

There were cameras in that room. We reviewed the footage. It was interesting to see how the dog got out. It turned out Sara approached the door, pressed the handle with her paw, and went out.

Olha had taken the shepherd dog temporarily but decided to keep her permanently. So, Sara still lives with her.

To the Shelter with Puppies, But Without the Husband

Over the past two years, we have found homes for about 300 animals. Even I am amazed by these numbers.

At first, I was scared to take in new animals. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I had five puppies at home. I thought, “If we have to hide quickly, how will I get all the animals to the basement?”

Later, when we experienced explosions, my daughter would be the first to run to the basement with two dogs, followed by me with a box containing the five puppies. Once, I got stuck in the doorway with this box. My husband stood behind me, unable to get out because I was blocking the way. He said, “You see, you saved the animals, but you forgot me here!” There were times when my husband was already in the basement, and I was still running around the house, collecting the puppies.

I am always filled with joy when I find a home for a cat or a dog. If I have helped some living being, I tell myself, “Vika, you didn’t live this day in vain!” I have found my purpose in helping animals. A person can help themselves, but only a person can help an animal. 

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