When the street is filled with people fleeing from a war, bags become too heavy, clothes fall to the floor, objects lose importance meter by meter. Then they remain: the old dog picked up, the cat closed in the carrier, the rabbit stuffed in a backpack. The images that came out of Ukraine in the first days of the invasion had already told everything: personal possessions remained along the corridors of the exodus, while the animals left with the people. AP it spoke of abandoned clothes, vehicles left along the road, fleeing families who continued to keep dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters and birds close by; in one of the documented cases there was also Antonina, 84 years old, evacuated from Irpin with twelve dogs.
A work published on Journal of Religion and Health examines the role of pets in preserving the emotional and spiritual well-being of Ukrainian residents during Russian hostilities: that bond also impacts decision-making during the war. Inside an escape, the animal brings with it habit, responsibility, a living presence, even a form of domestic continuity while everything else breaks down. In the paper on Ukraine the vocabulary revolves around wellbeing, family bond, choice to stay or leave. Saving the animal often coincides with the attempt to also save the mental structure of the person who keeps it with them.
When a family escapes from bombs, the dog and cat are part of it
This is the part that is often lost when viewing the scene from afar. Carrying an animal under missiles seems like an impulsive gesture only to those who observe from the outside and have time to think in the heat. For those who flee, that animal is routine, responsibility, a living presence, a creature that continues to ask for water, hands, voice, contact. It keeps a part of the head occupied that otherwise risks ending up entirely in fear. In a word: it’s home. Also the testimony collected by AP goes in the same direction: a woman who escaped from Kyiv said she felt the duty to protect her daughter, mother, dog and cat together, in the same gesture.
A second study, published in Animalsworks on people who have gone through different crisis situations and arrives at a very clear result. The human-animal bond is described as highly valuable during the crisis; the animal’s company strengthens mental health and the ability to cope with the blow, while its absence increases stress. In the same study, an even more concrete passage appears: the safety of the pet becomes a decisive factor when a person has to seek help or refuge. Without assurance that the animal is safe, many people postpone, avoid, or block requests for help altogether.
If the shelter accepts the animal, the person enters. If someone takes care of that dog or cat for a few days, the person manages to have surgery, move around, sleep, stop looking at the door every two minutes. The study also says that separation from your pet during the crisis produces stress and anxiety, and that in the post-crisis simple routines such as feeding, cleaning a bowl or going out for a walk help recovery, give structure to the days and even get self-care back into motion.
Contingency plans treat animals as a logistical detail
The third piece comes from public health. Robin Chadwin, onAmerican Journal of Public Healthwrites that during a disaster, many owners want to evacuate with their pets and find transportation or shelter options limited or non-existent. From there, very clear consequences arise: people stuck at home, evacuation orders ignored, attempts to return to dangerous areas to recover animals left behind. The thesis of the paper is all here: excluding animals from evacuation protocols creates public health consequences and reduces overall resilience.
Placed next to Ukraine, this literature helps to better read certain images that are otherwise archived as easy emotion. The leash on the wrist, the carrier clutched to the chest, the cat kept under the jacket are not color details. They are pieces of a real escape. They hold together the possibility of moving, the minimal clarity to decide, the need to still feel like someone and not just a body dragged out of the house. The images in Ukraine speak of family, of orientation, of nervous endurance, of that tiny daily discipline that keeps a human being alive while everything around him falls apart. The leash tightened around the wrist, in those passages full of thrown away suitcases, holds more than a dog or a cat. It holds the person holding it.
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