How Ukrainian pets provide comfort to some migrants while causing heartbreak to others

He was in horrible shape when he was abandoned near the Hungarian border, shaking and shivering and barely able to walk.

That morning, the Golden Retriever appeared out of nowhere, traveling through no man's land to rest his tired head on a patch of covered asphalt just past the Csengersima checkpoint on the Hungarian-Rumanian border.

They summoned a local animal shelter to take him up when a woman from the Hungarian Red Cross bent down to offer him food, drink, and a nice word, but he was too frail to reply. He was still there six hours later.

It was a heartbreaking sight, but one that contrasted sharply with the wonderful care that Ukrainian refugees had shown for the pets they had carried with them to flee Russian bombing.

We had seen this during the invasion's second week at various crossings on the Polish-Ukrainian border, and again in the last week at the Hungarian border – and many informed us of the grief they felt over having to leave behind larger pets, especially dogs.

We observed as refugees who had queued for hours on foot with their small children and worldly belongings still found the strength to physically carry their pets, frequently in pet carriers with heavy amounts of pet food.

Young children were frequently the ones carrying the pets. Nobody knows how many of the country's 4 million refugees brought their pets with them, but pet travel specialists PBS Pet Travel estimate that over 1.25 million pets have crossed the border.

One of the hidden war stories is undoubtedly how caring for a beloved pet through a period of personal and collective suffering can be beneficial, even therapeutic.

We observed Olena Boiko, 39, emerge from her 20-hour journey from Kyiv with her Chihuahua, Dolores, peering out of her coat at Kroscienko on the Polish-Ukrainian border, when refugees faced sub-zero temperatures.

We observed Vatazhok, 87, on crutches, and Zhanna Zabrodska, 85, in a wheelchair, muster the stamina to carry their respective cats, Syoma and Masha, at the same crossing.

Come feel Masha shivering with cold through my knapsack, Zhanna whispered, tears running down her face as she thought of her frightened feline buddy. The intrepid octogenarians had fled beleaguered Kharkiv in the north after 11 days of sheltering in a frigid cellar, and in fleeing to rescue themselves had thought to save their cats as well.

There was also anguish for the pets who had been abandoned. After a four-day journey fleeing Irpin and leaving her husband at the border, Sasha Bubnovska, 28, crossed into Poland with her daughters Sofia, 6, and Mia, 2, and pug, Bella. Her relief to be safe was palpable, but her thoughts were for her black Labrador, Clode, who was too big to fit in their car.

She showed me images of Clode, who appeared to be in mourning when they left him alone in front of the sofa. It's difficult to look at these images, Sasha stated.

They left the house keys with a neighbor and requested him to set out food and water for Clode, but Sasha didn't know the neighbor and couldn't be sure if Clode was still alive with Kharkiv under siege. I'm not sure I'll see him again, she expressed her uncertainty. We brought Bella with us, but Clode was already a member of our family. I'm afraid I've deceived him.

A small girl arrived with her mother after a long journey from eastern Ukraine to a local refugee reception center in Lodyna, just over the Polish border, and the first thing she did after being given a camp-bed was to feed and comfort the rats in her pet carrier.

They became a focal point and a way of interacting with other refugee youngsters at the shelter very immediately. We observed several hamsters and even mice elsewhere.

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