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The dogs of war: how Ukraine's pets became symbols of resilience
Kulivets with Zhuzha in his apartment in Kyiv.
Image: Serhiy Morgunov/The Washington Post
Soon after Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, Kyiv's top diplomat made a very personal and little-known policy decision: He encouraged Ukraine's Foreign Ministry staff to bring their dogs to work.
Dmytro Kuleba's rule meant employees didn't have to leave their terrified dogs at home during missile and drone attacks.
And it meant Kuleba's new rescue, a gray French bulldog named Marik, scooped from the wreckage of the besieged Ukrainian port city of Mariupol, would spend the next couple of years overhearing foreign policy discussions as he waddled around the office.
Former Ukrainian foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba plays with his rescue dogs, Marik, 3, and Puzan, 3, at his home in Kyiv.
Image: Serhiy Morgunov/The Washington Post
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Such an arrangement might seem unusual for a foreign minister - but not in wartime Ukraine.
Russia's invasion has made the security of pets a national priority. Families in front-line towns often flee Russian shelling with multiple pets in tow, and soldiers feed and care for those left behind. Volunteers then risk their lives to evacuate them to safer cities, where they are often adopted into Ukrainian families or sent abroad.
The lengths Ukrainian troops and volunteers have gone to rescue vulnerable dogs has spurred a massive cultural shift, transforming Ukraine - once criticized for its treatment of animals - into an extraordinarily dog-friendly country. Gone are stuffy old rules banning pets from many places. Kuleba resigned in 2024, but the Foreign Ministry confirmed that his dog policy remains in place.
Zhuzha, who is around 6 years old, was adopted by Mykola Kulivets while he served in the Ukrainian military. After surviving several front-line postings together, the pair demobilized and moved to Kyiv. Kulivets brought Zhuzha on a first date with Maria Smirnova, who fell in love with both of them. The couple now live together with Zhuzha
Image: Serhiy Morgunov/ The Washington Post
Dogs are also now welcome inside most restaurants, cafes, beauty salons, grocery stores and hotels in major Ukrainian cities. They're often greeted with water bowls and treats or, in some cases, their own menus.
And, like Marik the French bulldog, and Kuleba's later rescue, Puzan, who is from the eastern town of Lyman, many of these dogs were rescued from the front lines. In Kyiv's sprawling parks, families now trade notes about their four-legged mutts' hometowns, describing dramatic escapes from war.
Ukrainians' commitment to saving front-line animals 'literally changed how we as a nation are perceived abroad,' Kuleba said.
A pack of abandoned dogs roamed the nearly empty village close to the eastern front where Ukrainian soldier Mykola Kulivets was stationed in 2022 - but the smallest, with her long black fur and pointy ears, stood out from the rest.
One April morning, she appeared all alone at the door of Kulivets's makeshift base. He fed her a sausage and she never left. He cleaned her dirty, matted fur, named her Zhuzha, let her move inside - and two months later woke up to her giving birth under his cot.
The timing could not have been worse: Kulivets's battalion was about to relocate to a village near the front-line city of Avdiivka, and he now had six dogs - including five puppies - in his care. His commander, a dog lover himself, told Kulivets to bring them along.
For the rest of the summer, as fierce battles took place mere miles away, the dogs distracted Kulivets and his fellow troops from the horrors of war. 'To have some little one to take care of - I think it's a basic need for every human being,' he said.
From afar, Kulivets's mother helped find homes around Ukraine for the four male puppies. His grandparents agreed to adopt the only girl, whom they named Asya. In late August, when the puppies were two months old, Kulivets drove to Dnipro to pass them off to his mom - his first time seeing her since he had deployed. He returned to war the same day with only Zhuzha left.
Back east, Kulivets moved with Zhuzha to the city of Bakhmut, which Russia later destroyed and seized. Under intense shelling, he would hurry her outside for bathroom breaks. His team became so attached that they named their command centre after her, and her name appeared in official military orders.
Kulivets and Zhuzha eventually demobilized, and both have settled into civilian life in Kyiv. 'When my commander calls me, his first question is not about me - it's about Zhuzha,' Kulivets said.
'Not normal anymore to buy dogs'
Early in the war, Hanna Rudyk, deputy director of Kyiv's Khanenko Museum, left home with her young daughter, Silviia. They moved to Germany, and her husband, Artem, unable to travel due to martial law banning men from leaving the country, stayed behind.
Rudyk knew they would eventually return to Kyiv but feared air raid sirens and explosions would traumatize Silviia, who is now 10. Maybe, she thought, a dog would help. But it had to be a rescue - during wartime, she said, 'it's not normal anymore to buy dogs.'
Then she saw a Facebook post from a volunteer. Troops fighting in the eastern city of Toretsk, since destroyed by Russian artillery, had been caring for a dog who gave birth at their position. The surviving puppies had been evacuated - and one still needed a home.
The remaining dog was a white female with brown spots and big pointy ears like a cartoon character. They named her Latka, Ukrainian for 'patch.'
