logo
How a pet rescue is helping federal workers find solace after job loss

How a pet rescue is helping federal workers find solace after job loss

IOL News20-05-2025

Tim, one of the kittens Mollie Kolaitis is fostering, holds onto her right foot.
Image: Mollie Kolaitis
As a 10-year-old, Denise Joseph told everyone she wanted to be Mother Teresa.
While Joseph never became a saint, her passion for public service drew her to the Education Department, where she began working as an analyst in 2015. But when Joseph was placed on administrative leave in January - and learned three months later she would be fired - she turned her attention to something else: dogs.
Joseph began fostering two mixed German shepherd and Labrador retriever puppies, Wren and Wrigley.
'I have a reason to get up in the morning,' Joseph told The Washington Post, 'to walk the dogs and feed them and, you know, to help calm me.'
Joseph is one of a handful of former federal employees who are taking advantage of an animal rescue's recent offer in Arlington, Virginia. Lucky Dog Animal Rescue is providing free supplies, including food, toys, bowls, leashes, collars, treats and crates, to fired federal workers who foster dogs or cats.
Video Player is loading.
Play Video
Play
Unmute
Current Time
0:00
/
Duration
-:-
Loaded :
0%
Stream Type LIVE
Seek to live, currently behind live
LIVE
Remaining Time
-
0:00
This is a modal window.
Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window.
Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan
Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan
Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan
Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque
Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps
Reset
restore all settings to the default values Done
Close Modal Dialog
End of dialog window.
Advertisement
Next
Stay
Close ✕
Wren, a mixed German shepherd and Labrador retriever puppy, is being fostered by Denise Joseph
Image: Denise Joseph
Mirah Horowitz, Lucky Dog's chief executive, said the program is great for the pets who get a temporary home, and also the foster volunteers, who might find solace in caring for a pet.
'The cost to the former federal employee or contractor would be, you know, their time and their love,' Horowitz said. 'And we will provide the rest.'
When sweeping job cuts in the federal government began in February under President Donald Trump's administration, Horowitz said her already overflowed rescue became more crowded. Some fired federal workers gave up their pets because they were moving or could no longer afford veterinary care, Horowitz said.
In the following weeks, Horowitz said she considered waiving the $200 to $500 adoption fees for fired federal workers. But she realized they might need a more flexible situation while they look for new jobs and possibly new homes, she said.
To make the program feasible financially, Horowitz said Arlington's Dogma Dog Bakery agreed to sell food to the rescue at a reduced cost. She said foster volunteers in the program save between $100 to $200 per month.
Donna Davis of Arlington, Virginia, began fostering 1-year-old King, a mixed Rottweiler and German shepherd, last month.
Image: Donna Davis
One volunteer is Donna Davis, who said she was fired from her contracting position with the Defense Department in February. However, when Davis picked up King, a mixed Rottweiler and German shepherd, last month, she was uncertain if the partnership would work out.
King, who weighs nearly 80 pounds, pulled Davis into streets while she held the leash and barked at other dogs. He ate a David Mamet book Davis borrowed from the library, prompting Davis to spend hours taping the pieces of paper back together.
But a few days later, the 1-year-old pup became attached to Davis. When Davis took King to the Shirlington Dog Park in the evenings, King looked back every few minutes to ensure Davis was still there.
Lucky Dog provided Davis squeaky toys, two beds, a leash, crunchy biscuits and bone broth treats. Davis made her own beef liver treats.
Tabitha and Tiffani, kittens Mollie Kolaitis is fostering, nap together
Image: Mollie Kolaitis
King has become a beloved figure at Davis's church, where she takes him on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. A week after Davis began fostering him, King growled when others approached Davis - a sign he was protecting her, Davis said. They ran a five-kilometer race together at Theodore Roosevelt Island.
Davis has struggled to find work, she said, and has considered leaving Arlington.
On April 30, she posted a picture of King on Facebook, seeking his permanent home. But now, Davis said she is considering adopting King - even if she's dreading the librarians' reactions when she tries to return the book King ate.
'I gave up a lot of my life for this dog,' Davis said. 'And that's okay. I feel like that's not necessarily a bad thing.'
While Lucky Dog's program is for fired workers, former federal employees who recently accepted buyout offers have also fostered pets with their spare time.
Mollie Kolaitis, who took a buyout from her job as an attorney adviser in the Department of Health and Human Services in March, has turned her home office into a room for her new foster cats. The nine kittens she began fostering last month have been distracting, running across her desk in Waterford, Virginia, and accidentally opening Microsoft Excel when they step on her laptop. But Kolaitis, 41, said the experience has been rewarding.
Wrigley, a mixed German shepherd and Labrador retriever puppy, is being fostered by Denise Joseph.
Image: Denise Joseph
'It's something nice to pour yourself into and take your focus off of things that are happening right now,' Kolaitis said, 'and just feel like you're doing a little bit of good for the world when it doesn't feel like there is a lot.'
Since taking the buyout, Kolaitis has also fostered a Chihuahua mix and her four babies. She mixed dog food with formula and fed the puppies through a syringe in her sunroom. She house-trained them before they were adopted a few weeks later.
'People who go into federal service, they have an interest in the public, and they have an interest of wanting to help others,' Kolaitis said. 'And, you know, if they're looking for something to do, this is a really good way to spend some time.'
Joseph, the analyst who was fired from the Education Department, said she couldn't sleep after she received an email Jan. 29 with a letter attached. It said she would be placed on administration leave 'pursuant to the President's executive order on DEIA,' referring to Trump's efforts to end diversity, equity, inclusion and accessibility programs in the federal government.
Walking Wren and Wrigley around her neighbourhood in Waldorf, Maryland, three or four times a day has brought her joy. She has house-trained them - but she still bought a patch of turf to place in front of their crates in case they relieve themselves inside.
While Joseph said Wren and Wrigley, both 16 weeks old, are bigger than she prefers - they're each roughly 35 pounds and counting - she plans to foster them until someone adopts them.
Then, she might find more dogs to foster while she job hunts.
'I just have this mindset to help people and to help raise them and train them,' Joseph said, 'so they can be their best selves - or their best animal selves.'

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Kyiv exhibition helps relieve stress of war
Kyiv exhibition helps relieve stress of war

IOL News

time4 days ago

  • IOL News

Kyiv exhibition helps relieve stress of war

A visitor takes pictures in front of boards featuring US psychologist Paul Ekman and German philosopher Carl Gustav Jung during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition in Kyiv. Virtual sunrises, a giant sculpture of a purring cat and a soundproof booth you can scream into -- the installations at Kyiv's "Third Wind" exhibition may seem like a bit of light-hearted fun. But for the show's organisers, among them leading psychologists and mental health experts, the art has a very serious purpose: to help Ukrainians de-stress and explore their emotions after three years of war. Russia's invasion has triggered a mental health crisis in Ukraine, with more than half of respondents to a recent survey feeling "anxiety and tension". If only for a brief moment, the installations offer visitors a much-needed mental break from the war and help them "release tension, cry or smile a little", said curator Yulia Solovey. "Above all, it's about giving people the strength to keep moving forward," she told AFP. The exhibition has proven wildly popular, with nearly 100,000 people visiting within the space of a month. Among them was 41-year-old resident Inna Purgan, who came seeking a "return to childhood" after a weekend of Russian strikes. "It was very stressful, I couldn't sleep because of the drones and explosions," she told AFP. After letting out a high-pitched scream in a soundproof booth, one of the interactive experiences, she said she felt a little better. "It makes you feel lighter!" she said with a smile. The exhibition's name is a play on "second wind", a burst of energy experienced during moments of exhaustion. It is a feeling many Ukrainians relate to in their fourth year of war, with the exhibition inviting visitors to answer the question "What helps me move forward?", said Solovey. According to state-backed mental health organisation "Ti Yak", which means "How are you?", Russia's war and its challenges remain the number one source of psychological stress for Ukrainians. Theatre worker Anastasia Storozhenko and her husband Viktor, a soldier in the military, are no exception. "It's really hard if you don't try to escape to another reality," said 31-year-old Anastasia. The couple were actors, and much of their work before the war revolved around emotions. Wearing a virtual reality headset transporting them to the Himalayas, she and her husband smiled ear to ear at the exhibit. The young mother said she reminded herself she had to keep living, if not for herself, then for her child. But Viktor has struggled to express his emotions since he joined the military. "I've shut down emotionally," he said. Surrounded by colourful decor, laughter and music, he started smiling. "It helps a lot, life continues... emotions... And no more boom boom," he tried to explain, imitating missile blasts. Nearby, other visitors were learning dance moves, while others embraced in front of a screen displaying a sunrise -- meant to symbolise hope. Half of the proceeds from the tickets will go to an NGO making prosthetics for veterans who have amputations, the organisers said. Once the exhibition ends, its installations will be moved to rehabilitation centres for soldiers and civilians recovering from trauma. On a black wall, visitors were invited to draw colourful chalk messages. "I'm alive", "I feel my heart beating", "Welcome to Ukraine-controlled territory" and a few swear words scribbled by children were among them. Wearing rubber boots, army rehabilitation worker Natalya Novikova and her husband Vadym splashed around in puddles of water in one of the rooms. "You can stop feeling the pressure of being an adult for a moment," said Vadym, catching his breath before reverting to seriousness to scold children who splashed him. Both come from Russian-occupied parts of Ukraine - Vadym is from Sevastopol in the annexed Crimean peninsula, Natalya from the eastern Donetsk region. Natalya left her native Donetsk region in 2014, when Moscow-backed separatists fomented an uprising in the area. She had resettled in Bucha, where Russian troops were accused of committing war crimes in early 2022. The heavy emotional toll of the war was lifted, albeit briefly, by the exhibition, she said. She said it brought her into "an animal, childish state." "I didn't expect it to do much to me, but actually it's amazing." | AFP

Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.
Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.

IOL News

time4 days ago

  • IOL News

Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.

Illia Matviienko, 12, shows one of his favorite Lego toys at home in Uzhhorod, Ukraine, on April 12. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post Lizzie Johnson and Kostiantyn Khudov The boy from Mariupol still wasn't ready to walk to the bus stop alone, so just before 8am, he and his grandmother set off for school together. He reached for her hand, zipping her fingers in his own, and stole a sip of her coffee. Illia Matviienko was almost 13 but still got lost easily. Three years had passed since his mother bled out in his arms after a Russian shelling, since a neighbour chipped her grave in the frozen winter of their yard, since soldiers found him alone and took him deeper into the occupied Donetsk territory, where he was put up for adoption. There, he almost became a different boy: a Russian one. Until his grandmother, Olena Matviienko, spotted him in a 26-second Russian propaganda video. Illia became an extraordinary test case for how, and whether, Ukraine could claw back its missing children - a journey that took Olena across four international borders and deep into Russia. 'I wouldn't have found him if I didn't see the video,' Olena, 64, said at their home in Uzhhorod, in far western Ukraine. 'He would be with a different family now. How much would he remember of who he was?' Illia's return in 2022 after weeks in a hospital in occupied Ukraine showed the difficulty of just getting back one child - let alone the tens of thousands of Ukrainian children now at the center of Kyiv's demands for peace. Deported or disappeared into Russia, their plight has united American politicians to pressure President Donald Trump for their safe return and spurred war crimes charges against Russian President Vladimir Putin and his deputy, children's rights commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova, for their illegal transfer - charges a Kremlin spokesman disputed as 'outrageous and unacceptable.' Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Next Stay Close ✕ Illia and his grandmother, Olena Matviienko, 66, take a walk in the city center. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post During a meeting at the Vatican in May, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky appealed directly to Pope Leo XIV, asking for the church's assistance in bringing the children home. Ukraine wants a full accounting of all the children taken to Russia and their repatriation as part of any peace settlement. Exactly how many children are missing is unknown. The Conflict Observatory - part of Yale University's Humanitarian Research Lab, which has consistently provided the most accurate data but will shutter on July 1 because of Trump's federal funding cuts - has verified that at least 19 500 children were forcibly deported from occupied areas of Ukraine, funneled into re-education camps or adopted by Russian families, their identities erased. The real number is probably much higher, senior Ukrainian officials say, but cannot be proved because of poor recordkeeping. 'Maybe 50 000. Maybe 100 000. Maybe higher. Only Russia can provide us with this information,' said Mykola Kuleba, former children's ombudsman for Ukraine and head of the nonprofit Save Ukraine. In three years of full-scale war, only a small fraction of them have been returned - about 1 300 children - in deals brokered by Qatar, the United Arab Emirates and the Holy See, as well as in covert rescue missions run by volunteers. Progress is slow and excruciating because Russia 'changes their names, their place of birth, their date of birth,' said Daria Zarivna, an adviser to Zelensky's chief of staff who works on the Ukrainian initiative Bring Kids Back UA. 'All ties are cut.' Olena journeyed across four international borders and deep into Russia after seeing Illia in a 26-second video. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post 'I was Ukrainian' When Olena first brought Illia home to Uzhhorod in the spring of 2022, he slept with the lights on and the bedroom door wide open. Sirens and loud noises terrified him. He had four friends at school but feared no one understood what he'd been through. As one of the first children to return from Russia since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Illia's case soon went public. Olena began receiving calls for him to testify in front of roomfuls of politicians. He agreed to speak to anyone who would listen. Germany's parliament came first. Illia was instructed to ignore the crowd, to only look at the person speaking to him. By the time he appeared at the United Nations last year, he was no longer nervous. He waited his turn, then carefully answered questions. He was barely visible behind the microphone - his unruly thatch of dark hair and moon-pale skin obscured. And then he told his story. The Russian soldiers found him a day after his mother died, he said, starting at the beginning. It was March 2022, and for weeks, he and his mother, Nataliia, had cowered in a basement in Mariupol, melting snow to drink and cooking over an open fire when their gas ran out. They ventured outside to look for food - and were badly injured by the Russian shelling of a nearby building. Illia's legs were bloody and shattered, the back of his left thigh a gaping wound. Nataliia sustained a serious head injury. She dragged her son into a nearby apartment building. They fell asleep inside, arms knotted around each other. The next morning, Illia awoke to stillness. Olena shows a photo of her daughter Nataliia and a photo of her makeshift grave. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post A neighbour took Nataliia's body away. Then, men in Russian uniforms arrived and drove Illia to a hospital in the city of Donetsk, 75 miles from the siege. Orphans from Mariupol filled the third floor. Illia listened to doctors debate whether to amputate his left leg before opting against it. He had surgery without anesthesia, he said, and was later interviewed on camera about his mother's death by a stranger. Instead of looking for his family or contacting his home country, as required by international law, officials issued him a Russian birth certificate and put him up for adoption. A social worker visited his hospital room, gifting him an orange plush Garfield cat and teaching him a Russian poem about a bear. She said she planned to adopt him. 'I didn't want to go,' Illia said later. 'It was Russia, and I was Ukrainian.' He befriended the boy next door, Vitalii, whose parents were also missing. Nurses told the boys that they - along with 30 other children - would soon be sent to Moscow. Illia wondered where his grandmother was. Illia with his friend Eldar at school in Uzhhorod. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post Olena's journey More than 1 200 kilometers away in Uzhhorod, Olena was reeling. A family friend had sent her a Russian propaganda video posted online of Illia in his hospital bed, speaking into a blue-and-red microphone. Olena grew up in the eastern industrial territory that Russia now controlled, working as a machine operator in a factory, then selling bread and cookies for a local bakery. When Illia's father abandoned Nataliia at six months pregnant, Olena vowed to help her daughter take care of the baby. She wasn't breaking that promise now. The only document she had to prove Illia was her grandson was a copy of Nataliia's passport. Volunteers at a local shelter helped her get copies of the rest - Illia's reissued Ukrainian birth certificate, her housing registration, custody paperwork, the police investigation into her daughter's death. She tucked the documents in a clear plastic bag and contacted the Presidential Office, which launched a first-of-its-kind special operation to get Illia back and, through volunteers in Russia, helped Olena get in touch with the hospital in Donetsk. On the phone, the head doctor told her Illia's adoption was pending. 'Don't you dare,' she remembers telling him. Within weeks, Olena and another man - whose young granddaughter, Kira, was also being held in Russia - boarded a special diplomatic train to Poland. Once there, Olena said they flew to Moscow on a private plane provided by a Russian oligarch, then took a 20-hour train to Donetsk. In the early years of the war, such an audacious journey was still possible, but now it's often not, officials say. After finally reaching the hospital, Olena wrapped a distraught Illia in her arms. 'He didn't believe it was me,' Olena said. 'He lost his hope. He didn't actually believe I would come and bring him back to Ukraine. Not until the very last minute … did he believe it.' As one of the first children to return from Russia since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Illia's case went public and he's testified about his experience. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post The lucky one In the park out front of his school, Illia kissed Olena goodbye. He cut across the damp grass and veered inside, past a map of Ukraine - Crimea still tethered to the rest of the country, Mariupol tucked safely within its borders, Russia separated by a thick line of black. In Room #40, he sat near a window with a friend until class began. After a short quiz, his teacher Tetiana Dolgova observed the nationwide moment of silence for all the war had taken. 'Thank God this city is remote from the front lines,' she told the students. 'We need to remember every day who gave their lives for our happiness and freedom. It's not only about our servicemen at the front lines. Your classmate Illia witnessed the awfulness of this war with his own eyes.' When the students turned to look at him, he didn't duck his head. He was more confident now, the years dulling some of his memories. He could still recall Mariupol - how he and his mother would ride the city bus to the beach and wade in the cool waves of the Sea of Azov, and in the winter their snowball fights - but he thought about it less frequently. Photos from a family friend showed his former home in rubble, his two boxes of Lego gone, his five outdoor cats and two dogs vanished. Another photo showed his mother's grave, a wooden cross planted near the fence in the yard, overgrown with parched yellow grass - a place he could never visit. In Uzhhorod, Illia keeps his belongings on his grandmother's ironing board. The orange Garfield cat from the Russian social worker. A blue snake gifted by Olena after he testified to The Hague. A whale from Portugal, where he attended a 17-day rehabilitation programme. A bunny from Okhmatdyt Children's Hospital in Kyiv, where he is still in treatment for his legs, the shrapnel shifting painfully during gym. 'I will have them forever,' he said of his plush animals. 'They represent periods of my life and memories, from Donetsk to here.' He celebrates two birthdays now: the day he was born and the day Olena realized he was alive. Illia knew he was lucky. Russia had upended his life as he knew it - but he still had his identity. He was old enough to remember who he was. Unlike so many other Ukrainian children, he'd been found. Sometimes, he wondered if Vitalii, his friend in the hospital in Donetsk, had been, too. Or maybe he was now living in Moscow. Serhiy Morgunov and Serhii Korolchuk contributed to this report.

DRC among five countries elected to UN Security Council
DRC among five countries elected to UN Security Council

TimesLIVE

time4 days ago

  • TimesLIVE

DRC among five countries elected to UN Security Council

The UN General Assembly on Tuesday elected Bahrain, Colombia, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Latvia and Liberia to the 15-member UN Security Council for two-year terms starting on January 1 2026. The Security Council is the only UN body that can make legally binding decisions such as imposing sanctions and authorising use of force. It has five permanent veto-wielding members: Britain, China, France, Russia and the US. The remaining 10 members are elected, with five new members joining every year. Bahrain, Colombia, the DRC, Latvia and Liberia — who were all elected in uncontested slates — will replace Algeria, Sierra Leone, South Korea, Guyana and Slovenia. To ensure geographical representation, seats are allocated to regional groups. But even if candidates are running unopposed in their group, they still need to win the support of more than two-thirds of the General Assembly. Bahrain received 186 votes, the DRC 183 votes, Liberia 181 votes, Colombia 180 votes and Latvia 178 votes. The General Assembly on Monday elected former German foreign minister Annalena Baerbock as president of the 193-member body for its 80th session, which begins in September.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store