Near the front lines in Ukraine, Ukrainian and foreign volunteers risk their lives to collect and evacuate stray animals and those separated from their owners as people flee the area. This risky commitment not only saves the lives of the animals being helped but also opens the door for volunteers from animal protection organizations to connect with their fellow humans. A metal gate along a street that no longer sees much traffic except for military vehicles, hit by drone strikes; a dirt path bordered by trees that have not been trimmed for a long time; then an unending chorus of barking. Welcome to one of the last animal shelters in Kramatorsk, in the Donetsk region, where dozens of dogs of all breeds, ages, and sizes still reside today. Each has its own chain and shelter, made from whatever materials are available, sometimes from a box of ammunition, or its own cage. "Every time I come here, I want to cry," says Olga, the cheerful volunteer who guides us to Rima, a retired resident of Kramatorsk and one of the most loyal volunteers at the shelter. "As the front advances," explains Rima, "we are brought animals." First, there are those from internally displaced people fleeing the fighting and settling in Kramatorsk, in a home whose owners do not accept animals. Since the start of the large-scale invasion, this flow of people and animals has never stopped. "There," illustrates our guide, "are two small dogs to which their owners come to visit. [They] feed them and bring them treats." Her voice does not betray any emotion; her eyes tell a different story. "It also happens that soldiers [bring us animals found] on the front and ask us to keep them here until they return home [on leave, NDLR]. And until that moment, they come to visit them, they bring food and they cover the veterinary costs. Then they take them back home." For the soldiers, Kramatorsk is already the rear; but a rear that foreshadows hell: since August 21, the Ukrainian state considers the city as "an area of active combat," as explained by the Ukrainian media Suspilne Donbass. Under these conditions, it is understandable that the prospect of visiting a loved one, even one dressed in fur, brings some comfort. For the soldiers, clarifies Rima, their dog is "like a talisman." For several months, she adds, the shelter has also been welcoming an increasing number of animals that the residents of Kramatorsk themselves have to separate from. The Russian army is only about 15 kilometers away. Floating bombs and all types of drones strike daily; and every bombing leads to new departures, sometimes abrupt. "One morning, we found a puppy locked in a bag, which its owners had left in front of the gate," says Rima, horrified, before telling us the story of one of her boarders, who lost a paw. In the rear near the front, the military move quickly. It is not uncommon to see a 4x4 speeding at more than 100 km/h through the city. Therefore, collisions with stray animals are frequent. All the cats in the shelter have already been transported to a safe place, says our host. Now, the goal is to evacuate the remaining dogs as quickly as possible to the rear; a task that Angela, a 43-year-old Dutch citizen and volunteer with the British association Nowzad, is accustomed to. Since March, Angela, a veterinary assistant by profession, has already carried out about fifteen evacuation missions. "Kramatorsk has become incredibly dangerous," she says on the phone in English. During the summer, she and her teammate had to get out of their car in an emergency after spotting a Russian FPV drone hovering over the courtyard of the building where they were about to park. "It's a very difficult choice to make each time: to determine whether the situation has become too dangerous to go there or not. And you know that it's [...] a battle you can never win: you can never evacuate all the animals, never," she says with clarity. This awareness of the danger is also shared by Petya, 38, the Bulgarian director of the association Cat Space, who, among other missions, contributes to the endless evacuation of the Kramatorsk shelter. For this reason, Petya, whom we meet in a village in the Kyiv region where she has set up the quarters of her organization, has decided to take precautions. "I try to set up a kind of contingency plan, in case something happens to me, with someone who would have access to the accounts and who would have all the passwords for the social networks, etc. [...], so that this person can take over," she says soberly, in English as well. No doubt, her long professional experience in humanitarian work has familiarized her with this kind of atmosphere. Before embracing the Ukrainian cause, Petya had long campaigned for the defense of human rights. She worked for Amnesty International, was in Egypt during the Arab springs, carried out missions in Israel, Palestine... Due to the bombings, rescuers sometimes encounter stressed animals. Cats and dogs, specifies Angela, can have aggressive outbursts such that it is sometimes necessary to sedate them at a distance to handle them. In other cases, it is the opposite. In the spring, in Kramatorsk, our interlocutor was handed over a dog in shock by the military ambulance workers who had found it along the road. The animal, she says, "was literally paralyzed [...]. It remained there, head down, doing nothing." It was only after several hours of care and a night of rest that its condition finally improved. "It was a very resilient dog. In the morning, it was already busy tearing up the curtains!" comments the volunteer, with an amused tone; but sometimes the fall is more tragic. "I have already seen dogs who had a heart attack from fear, [due to a bombing, NDLR]," recalls Angela. According to Petya, the psychological distress of animals is too little considered by animal caregivers, who tend to focus on the somatic aspect. However, she points out, animals, like humans, are affected "not only physically but also emotionally, psychologically [...], when they lose their home, their masters, their family." It is this observation, enriched by many readings, that has led Petya to found the organization she leads and to create a "sanctuary for animals" - in other words, a shelter for animals evacuated who are difficult to place in traditional shelters. There are currently a few chickens and mainly about fifteen goats. "They love paper," comments Petya about these last ones, while part of the herd gathers around my notebook. One of them finally swallows my bookmark. Petya laughs, charmed; she loves her goats too much to blame them; and she shows them a wealth of attention. Her bearded companions, know that they are destined to spend the rest of their lives without being troubled by the slightest milking. Petya, vegan, refuses to subject them to such treatment. A few kilometers away, in a house with a garden acquired for this purpose, our host also plans to open a shelter for cats suffering from post-traumatic stress. The method, which Petya has already applied, is simple to summarize: provide cats with everything they need for their well-being, in a calming environment of semi-freedom, to help them get used to trusting humans again; and thus facilitate their adoption. For Angela as well, animal rescue has been a step toward humanitarian work, despite an initial lack of interest in this sector; but here's the thing: during a long period of volunteering in Kherson in 2023, the veterinary assistant discovers with surprise that part of the Ukrainian volunteers she works with believe that her training would allow her to take care of the wounded in the team, if necessary... The origin of the misunderstanding? A mystery; but it will last a long time. "I finally concluded that it was both simpler and safer to train as a first responder rather than explaining to people that I would not be able to help them," recalls Angela. Today, she continues, providing first aid training in times of war to volunteers working on the front and to residents who remain there constitutes "a significant part" of her activity. To go further: the Italian-American filmmaker Alessio Schiazza made a documentary about the work of animal rescuers in Ukraine. The film, titled Rescue, is currently being shown at festivals. Among other characters, it features Petya and Viktor. Until a theatrical or online release, the trailer is available on the film's website.