“There was a smell of a crematorium. It smelled like burnt meat. And cries for help were heard”

“I had 20 Chihuahua dogs and 6 cats. They needed five litres of water and two kilograms of food per day,” says Oksana from Mariupol. “An aircraft. Everything was swept off: the windowpanes, window frames, pieces of walls, books, and our things. All the tiles in the bathroom fell off the walls. My pets ran into the bathroom. I saw their heads sticking out between the fragments of the walls and the tiles. I thought that half of them died. They did not respond. My dad came in running, and we started taking the pets downstairs from the ninth floor into the basement.”

There was some anxiety a few days before 24 February. Until the last moment, I did not believe that there would be a war. I thought that in the best case, or rather in the worst case, they would rattle the sabre, and would make some raids, probably. Well, in the worst case, it could be like in 2014. I did not have a single thought that there would be such a full-scale invasion throughout the country, although my relatives said, “Leave, leave there. Mariupol will not hold it out...”

There was some anxiety felt on the night of 24 February, although this date told me nothing. It was just an ordinary day. I did not sleep almost all the night, and at around 05:30 in the morning, I realized that I would not be able to sleep. I got up and turned on the laptop. I went online and learned that the war started. Just a flood of messages. Bombing attacks on Kyiv and Lviv. Obviously, I was stricken by panic. First, I thought about what to do: whether to leave or not to leave? As, obviously, Mariupol is a front-line city. I started to hear some explosions in the distance. I live... I lived in the 16th micro-district and that is quite far from Skhidnyi micro-district. Well, we thought that if there was an invasion, it would be from that side. It would take time for it to reach us, and we would have the opportunity to leave. My situation was complicated by the fact that I had a large dog nursery.

I have a Chihuahua nursery, and I have several cats in my care too. I adopted some of them. I have a completely blind cat. A large number of pets made it difficult for me. I was staying with them in my flat, and my parents lived literally a few houses away from me. They are 78 years old. So, basically, they were the closest people who were in the city. Naturally, all local people rushed to leave the city, and it was impossible to find a car. Then, we found a message on the Internet that some people, who were [dog] breeders… Well, my circle of people, people I stay in touch with, are mostly pet breeders... So, the message on the Internet said that a man was trying to take a nursery of German shepherds out of the city and died together with his dogs. That is, moving around was a risky thing too. And where could we move? When they also bombed Lviv and Kyiv. I decided to stay. There was a hope that everything would be resolved within a week, maybe 10 days.

I had a small stock of food. The only thing was that it was difficult for me, as I just recovered after having COVID-19. The day before, on 23 February, I was able to go out to the store for the first time after my recovery. I was still very weak. I ordered some pet food for my pets, and on the morning of 24 February, their food was in Volodarske. Clearly, no one brought it to me, and we were left with a very small amount of food for my pets. From the very first day, I was overtaken by fear.

My parents went out from time to time, making some food supplies. I had some food in stock too. Well, the good thing was that I immediately stocked up on a lot of water. I filled all the containers I had with water. I realized that there were many of us, and that there would be a lot of drinking. At first, I tried to clean up after my pets. At that time, I had 20 Chihuahuas and 6 cats. I kept them on dry food. They consumed at least five litres of water per day. As I said, in the early days, I still tried to clean up after them, well, while we still had tap water and electricity. Then, the power supply and mobile telephone connection were gone.

My dad came by every day to check on me. He would bring some news, since, as I said, I did not go out. We started to use the dog food sparingly. I myself did not want to eat. I had some food in stock and I even cooked something. However, I also caught myself thinking that I had not eaten anything for two days. I just did not want to eat. Being under stress, I could not sleep. At most, I could sleep two or three hours a day. Then the bombing got closer and closer… School no. 27 was in my yard. It was closed down for repair. However, as I understand, it was used as a location for the Armed Forces of Ukraine. There were some soldiers there, some cars drove up and re-fuelled there. I did not go out. Then the power supply was turned off. The military began to distribute some food to local people (I just saw it from my windows). They set up the power generator for charging cell phones. For a couple of days, there was still some telephone signal available.

Basically, there was no tap water any more, the gas supply stopped, and the front line began to move closer. I did not receive any information, except for what my dad told me when he came by. We also met with my neighbour from the flat next door, from time to time. She went out to her balcony and I went out to mine, and so we exchanged at least some information with her that way. Otherwise, I did not have any information. Then the shelling attacks started somewhere close by. Behind my house, there was a residential area of private houses, and the fire department. Zelinskoho and Metropolitska Streets. Incoming artillery fire started to reach there. Well, I thought that behind our house…. Well, we were waiting for an offensive from the side of Skhidnyi micro-district. I moved to the southern side of the house. That is, Skhidnyi micro-district was on the northern side from me. Incoming shellfire started to reach the area of private houses. Some houses caught fire.

Usually, the most intense shelling in our area was in the morning. And when the shelling started to move closer, obviously, I collected the most important things – the documents. I had a small bag with documents hanging around my neck. I always had it with me. There was a torch, a small amount of money, and the documents. I locked the pets up in their pet boxes. I took them to the bathroom and let them out 3-4 times a day to let them stretch their paws a little, when it was more or less calm outside, for them to go to the toilet and have some food. Luckily, they were accustomed to the toilet nappies and pottie toilets for pets. Surely, I tried to keep it clean with the minimal means I had, as there was no tap water. I tried to somehow wipe it and clean it up, as much as possible. Then I locked them again and covered them with warm blankets. And so I knew that usually by 7 o’clock in the morning, they started to shell our neighbourhood. I would sit down there, in the corridor. There were three walls behind me. I also covered myself with a blanket and sat there like that.

And it felt as if the rockets hit the roof of my house. I lived on the ninth floor, the top floor, in the first section of the building. I felt like I heard some rustling sound on the roof. It seemed that they just touched the roof. The house was swinging and shaking badly. On or around 6 March, they hit the Planet. This was a store at the intersection of Zelinskoho and Metropolitska Streets. The store was engulfed in a massive fire. The fumes and smoke came inside my flat through the windows, as there was a strong wind too. We were afraid that the fire could spread through the private houses area and would reach our houses. Then, a few days later… I don’t remember the date, of course. I regret that I did not write anything down. In the early days, I still tried to send some SMS to my children. I thought that the telephone signal could still break through somewhere, but then all the devices were discharged, and it was no longer possible to do this. Metro hypermarket caught fire too.

And as I understand, the houses near Metro, on Soniashna Street, were on fire too. It was a terrible fire. The fumes and smoke spread in the neighbourhood, and even reached us. And I don’t know to what extent…, I won’t say it with a 100% confidence, but as a medical worker, I know how burnt meat smells, when some tissues are burnt... It smelled like a crematorium there. I presume, a lot of people died there.

Either it was on Soniashna Street, or a little closer, in the houses on the opposite side, near the blood transfusion station. That’s where the smoke and screams came from. Then the whole sections of the houses on our side started to catch fire. This is a five-storey building opposite the last stop of the public transport, near hospital no. 2. On or around 10 March, my dad came and said that the corner section of the neighbouring building no. 40 was destroyed. Our house was close by, next door. I realized that we would come next, but I could not go anywhere with my pets. At the beginning of the war, I learned about many cases when people with pets were not let into basements. People simply did not let pet owners come into bomb shelters, into basements. With the number of pets I had, I stayed with them until the last.

On the night from 11 to 12 March, it was quite calm in the area. On 11 March, in the evening, a tank stopped between our houses. It was a tank or an armoured personnel carrier and some kind of artillery unit mounted on it. I realized that this was a kind of air defence unit, I guessed, and they would shoot at the plane from here. Most likely, it could be hit by backfire then. At that point, an idea came to my mind to try to go down to the basement in the morning. To take my pets and go down to the basement, because when the tank drove in, it was already dark, and it would not be possible to go to the basement and look for some place in the darkness. At half past four, I let my pets out to stretch their paws, and five minutes to four, it started. The sound of an aircraft and a terrible explosion immediately after it. Everything was in the air. Four o’clock in the morning. It was dark, naturally, as this was in March.

First, I thought that I was going to die now. Then I thought that at least half of my pets died. I immediately started putting them back into their boxes. I thought that I would now go down to the lower floors, at least. The neighbour from the flat next door ran out and shouted, “Is the staircase in place?!” And only then I realized that the stairs could collapse, and we would simply be trapped there. On our floor, there was me in my flat, and my neighbour Inga, with whom we talked on the balcony (she is about the same age as me). Inga was there with her mother. No one else lived on our floor. We decided to go downstairs. I thought that half of my dogs were dead. I called them. I figured out whom of them I did not see. I called, but none of them answered. The dawn broke. My dad came in running and started to help me bring them downstairs. Notably, it was generally difficult for me to go upstairs, to the ninth floor, at least once. I then took rather a long rest break, as I have some health problems. While this time, I went downstairs and upstairs at least ten times. I did not only go upstairs to the ninth floor, but also all the way down to the basement.

My dad and I took all the pets downstairs. We must give a credit to my neighbours, as no one said a word against it. There was enough space there. We had a spacious and dry basement. We took some space in the corner there. I placed my pets there. Then, I ran home several more times, and brought some blankets, fur coats, some food, and water, in order to be able to stay there with them. And it’s good that I ran to my flat, as after that, they didn’t let us raise our heads and go out from the basement any more.

Severe shelling attacks followed. The house was trembling and shaking. It seemed to be bouncing. There were many people there. There were small children in the next entrance section, and a child was crying badly. I know that a family with many children lived there. Then, as it turned out, it was not their child. We learned that the child’s mother died. She was coming downstairs with her baby… The baby was less than one year old. Well, the baby was not yet able to stand on its feet. A piece of glass just killed the mother. Those people took this baby and looked after it. My pets were just silent. Then by lunchtime, when I came to my senses a little and made the headcount, I realized that they were all alive, and that they were all with me. Only three cats remained upstairs, in my flat. They hid under the bathtub, and I could not get them. I could not crawl through all that rubble. We spent two days in the basement. They did not let us go upstairs, nothing.

Then, on 14 March, in the afternoon, one of the men said that in the neighbouring entrance sections (the basement interconnected them all) the military said that we needed to leave the building and go to the hospital. We would be given a “green corridor”. We did not believe it, but then we came over. Indeed, the military (they were the Russian army with white armbands), and we recognized their uniforms... There was a man among them whose accent was not Russian. It was some kind of Caucasian accent. He said, “Yes, you are from the sixth entrance section, and the house is located in such a way that you come under shelling. It can collapse, and so you need to leave.”

Then, people started to leave gradually. I took two boxes and walked out. The Military. They gave us a corridor. Russian military men were standing right there in rows. I said, “I have my pets left there.” He said, “You take this, what you have with you, and you will then be able to return for them.” We were so exhausted that when we got to the hospital, and I saw how many people there were, we realized that there was no space to bring the pets there. I had two pet boxes with me. I had two pregnant dogs in one box and a mother dog with a puppy in the other box. That’s all I could take. Basically, we were not allowed to go back then. I got back my breath, more or less, and wanted to go, but they did not let us go there. I did not take any food or water, neither for my pets nor for me.

We were placed on the fifth floor. We were lucky that each of us had a separate bed. Even though it was without a mattress, but it was a bed. I put my two boxes nearby. There were no windows there. The place was cold and drafty, but at least I could stretch my legs a little. The next day, we ran around, looking for at least something to drink. We were given a bottle of water each and some cookies.

It was impossible to go out for two days, because we were told that snipers were out there, and they would shoot us. We were not let out of the hospital. Their senior was an Ossetian man, who swore and cursed everyone. There were his assistants there too. We just stood there, waiting for water, hoping that they would bring it. They simply provoked us, saying, “We’ve come here to liberate you, and you are just sitting. You have many men. Why are you sitting, and not going to the front?”

They said all sorts of things. We tried our best not to fall for these provocations. They distributed young men from the so-called “DPR” (unrecognized Donetsk People’s Republic) on the floors, and there were older men too. Basically, those we interacted with... Well, it’s hard to call it interaction. There was a boy in the “DPR” uniform, standing in the queue for water together with us. He was 19 years old. He said, “I didn’t tell even my mother where I was.” He is a student. What he told us… He just received a military summons. They gave him the summons and said, “In half an hour, you should be at the military registration and enlistment office.” He was either from Avdiivka or some other place in that region. He stood in that common queue for water. He said, “Well, what shall you do? Well, somehow you’ll get used to it. You will live on, somehow.” Those guys’ attitude was more or less [tolerable], while in the case of their professional military, it was scary to see how brutal they were. Our house was attacked on 12 March, and on 14 March, we were moved over to the hospital.

They did not let us out for two days. Later, I met an acquaintance of mine there and learned that my parents’ house was on fire. I thought they were relocated to the hospital too. I ran around there on all the floors, looking for them. People occupied all eight floors of the building. I did not find anyone, neither my parents nor anyone else from their house. On 16 March, at lunchtime, or at around 11 o’clock, they brought in eight young men, who were poorly dressed. They said that they were Ukrainian snipers who were staying in the house opposite the final bus stop. They were shown to us with their hands tied. “Here, look who shot you.” We could not say anything and no one could help those men either. Nobody expressed his or her position there, and when we were staying in the basement, everyone was silent too. No one expressed their civil position at all. Like, who was on whose side. We did not touch on this topic at all.

Later, men from our entrance section of the house were able to get back to the house. They ran back and said, “Oksana, your dogs are alive. They are barking there. Go there.” I just thought I would go and have a look how they were. I would go and give them some food and water, would go “on reconnaissance”. And then, my mum came. She and my dad got to my house, met some people from our entrance section there, and they said that I was in the hospital. So they came over to me. They were not evacuated anywhere. They just stayed in their house, in the basement. Since my parents made it there, I grabbed the boxes and ran to the basement. I found my dogs there. We cried, I hugged, fed, and watered them. I helped them go to the toilet. Then they... They were so stressed that at around 3 or 4 o’clock in the afternoon, they just fell asleep and slept until the morning.

I slept like that too. They were in the boxes put in two rows, some of them on top of each other. I spread a blanket next to them and slept nearby. So, feeling that I was close, they slept peacefully till the morning. In the morning, my parents came and took me to their place. They have a two-room flat. Basically, from 1 March, my dogs lived in the pet boxes, and I could not let such a number of them walk around freely in my parents’ flat. I had a large flat. It was a two-room flat and a three-room flat put together. That is, it was adapted for having pets, and we had everything there. While, in my parents’ flat, it was impossible to let them out, so they lived in the boxes. The air temperature inside the flat was three degrees above zero. Water was in short supply. In a few days, my father and I managed to visit my flat again.

The shelling went on for a very long time. The private houses’ district was literally near our windows. Behind it was the 13th micro-district, where the fire station was, where the Planet store was, and the burned down Metro hypermarket. When we were going upstairs to my flat, it seemed that the shooting targeted the windows. While we were in the basement or in the hospital…, as I said, after 12 March, after the strike, I didn’t go upstairs. All the flats…, many flats were affected. The blast wave tore off the entrance doors. And those flats where the entrance doors were intact, were all unlocked or broken open then.

I was lucky, as my flat was not opened. They shot my entrance door lock through. As I said, two flats were merged into one, and the door where they shot the lock through was closed from the inside with a metal locking bolt or locking bar, a very thick one. So the flat remained locked. I went through the flat next door. I was able to go up to my flat. Then my dad and I went there and looked through the things. I was looking for at least something, to change my clothes. We also carried water, little by little.

We gradually drained the boiler, and used the water very sparingly. Some water was delivered to the hospital, but there were long queues, and it was cold to stand and wait in that queue. Our district was occupied. They started bringing some water from time to time. We got so weak and had no physical strength. We also learned that they started to bring some humanitarian aid to Metro hypermarket. We tried to go there with my mother, but we simply did not have enough strength for that. We made about half the way and realized that we simply could not get there. When I came to my parents, I realized that they did not eat anything either and lost a lot of weight. So in order to hold on somehow, we began to cook on a fire. I lived on the ninth floor, and my parents lived on the eighth floor. They were weak. They are 78 years old. Going downstairs several times... I made a rough count that the minimum number of times we went up and down was five times. As at least three times a day, we needed to eat something warm and drink something. Moreover, when you boil some water in the kettle and bring it up to the eighth floor, it is not hot any more, but rather just warm. Then we needed to scout around for water and food. We did not see any bread for a month. On the last days of March or in early April, we learned that bread was delivered to the neighbourhood near the police school, in the yards, and we stood in a queue for about six hours to buy it, just to buy some bread. They did not give it out for free, but sold it.

At that time, I got a piece of good luck, in inverted commas. One of my dogs brought forth the young. One of the dogs dropped the puppies, and another one had the puppies. It was three degrees above zero inside my parents’ flat. This was given the fact that only one window was damaged. Their flat was pretty intact. Their house caught fire, but not the section where their flat was. Their flat was intact. We covered ourselves with all sorts of blankets. We wore fur coats and boots at home. Three degrees above zero... My puppies survived. We had very little dog food. I saved it for the nursing dog. I picked up all the supplies of cereals at home and cooked some porridge for the dogs. I gave it to them in limited quantities too. Then, they started to deliver some food to the area near Metro hypermarket. Yes, and there were long queues there. I bought some durum wheat semolina for my dogs there. I added a package of Whiskas cat food to the saucepan. My cats were staying at home. That is, those that were in the basement, I took them home, because there was simply no space in my mother’s flat. I closed them in one room, the only room where the window was intact. I insulated the room and came every day to feed them. I brought them some warm water too. Three cats were in my flat, and I could not find them because of the wreckages. They were hiding somewhere, as they were scared.

I came to them for the first time a week later, after the bombing, not earlier. A few days later, I found one cat in the closet. I caught it. Then the second cat appeared here and there, but did not approach me. I talked to it, trying to persuade it. I managed to catch it somewhere in mid-April. And the last cat... I noticed that it was somewhere in the house, as all the other cats were closed. I left some food, water, and a cat toilet bin. I noticed that it used the toilet, and ate some food too, but I could not see the cat. I was able to catch it only at the beginning of May. We started thinking about how to leave. What I would like to say...

We did not know what happened to our dear ones, and whether they were alive. And this information vacuum was the worst thing. It was worse than the lack of water and food, and worse than the cold. When we were still in the hospital, the military did not allow us to make any phone calls, categorically. They warned us that if they saw someone’s phone, they would break it and throw it away. They threatened us quite bluntly. But then some women started to go and ask them, and with their permission they sometimes made some phone calls. My phone battery was completely discharged.

The neighbour from the eighth floor had a phone that was still a bit charged. I asked her to call my relatives. The call did not go through to the government-controlled territory, but we were able to send an SMS. And so my relatives were able to find out that I was alive, and my parents were alive. Later, when I moved to my parents’ flat at the end of March, a weak phone signal from Kyivstar telecom operator began to break through. For several days, we were able to get in touch with Kyiv. Our relatives told us right away, “Leave. They are waiting for the “green corridor”. Something will happen.”

The question of leaving arose. But how about my pets? I had ten pet boxes of different sizes. They were packed very tight there, and the boxes were too heavy. Even if a “green corridor” was announced, and if they took me on the bus with my pets, I simply could not bring them there. There was no transport in the city at all. All the cars that were parked near our house were simply run over by a tank. The tank just drove over and crushed them, making them as flat as a pancake. Clearly, there was no fuel available. We did not have our own transport. That is, it was impossible to leave, to catch those “green corridors” (for evacuation). We got some information post factum. Only later, we learned that they were waiting somewhere. Well, speaking about information: people could wait somewhere, but the evacuation transport didn’t come. Then we learned that people were put on buses and taken to the “DPR” territory. We were afraid of this very much. When they stopped bombing and shelling our neighbourhood, we decided to wait a bit, because it was scary to leave, and we did not have any transport. There were simply no options available. Then my son got through. He managed to get through to me and gave me an address. I found his best friend. We joined our efforts with them, looking for options to leave. Guys... they got some access to mobile Internet. They got Phoenix operator’s SIM card. We could not get one.

For three weeks, my dad went out at 4 o’clock in the morning. He got up even before the end of the curfew and went to Metro hypermarket, took a queue, but we never got a Phoenix SIM card. We were afraid to leave without having any telephone connection at all. In the middle of the journey, and what’s next? Without transport, without anything? We worked out various options, and I was ready even to go on foot if I could get some kind of cart, so that I could put these boxes on it. Carrying everything manually was simply unrealistic. They were too heavy. Some food items started to appear in some amounts. Pet food was very expensive. The first price, when they started selling it, was UAH 450-600 per kilogram. I need at least two kilograms a day to feed them properly. The dogs started to lose weight, and some of them started to get sick. We got sick too. My dad and I were ill with severe bronchitis. We thought that my dad might even have pneumonia. Then my mother had some problems with her kidneys.

There were no medicines at all. I took out everything I had at home. My mum needed some antibiotics. I went out… At Cosmos market, people began to bring for sale whatever they had, including some food. So, the cheapest vial of Triaxon was worth UAH 250, but basically its common price was UAH 400-450, while two vials a day were needed. I managed to find some Augmentin pills. After my mum took the pills, she felt better. Together with the friend of my son and his family, we were looking for options, but it turned out that there were a lot of us, and my pets in addition. We could not get such transport, and the men had their own concerns.

Some information started to reach us about how the columns of vehicles were shot and some girls were raped. This stopped them [those people who remained in Mariupol] from going for the evacuation. It was decided to encourage me to leave with the dogs, because my pets were the biggest obstacle, so to say. Another challenge was to persuade my parents. My mum actually agreed to go, but my dad was against the idea. Their flat was intact, and the fear was that it could be plundered then. When they ceased dropping bombs on our heads, this step was difficult to take. My parents also have a firm pro-Ukrainian position, and they simply could not contain their emotions, seeing what was happening around. As we walked around, my dad would shout to the [Russian] military, who were at the checkpoint, calling them the Nazis. Then, somebody hung a flag of either Russia or the “DPR” near the entrance door. He shouted, “I am going to rip it off!” There was a firestorm of emotions. My neighbours were also aware about my [political] position. But I don’t know whether all people with a pro-Ukrainian position left...

When I stayed at my parents’ flat, the windows of the room where I lived overlooked Budivelnykiv Avenue, and I could see Azovstal plant well. All those months, while I was there, I saw how Azovstal was bombed. It was all before my eyes, all the shells and all the bombs. And seeing everything and knowing that civilians were also hiding there, the neighbours from my parents’ house rejoiced at the shells falling there, and speculated what else [what other weapons] the Russians could use in order to finish them [the people hiding at the plant] off. I was insanely scared that I lived next to those people. I know many of them. Our house was built back in 1972, and we moved in there when I was two and a half years old. I have known some of them all my life. That’s how their nature and views manifested themselves. I realized that we needed to get out of there, otherwise, sooner or later, we would not be able to hold back our position and views, and they would come for us. And our situation was really difficult, given the fact that I had my pets with me, and we had some health issues too. Well, as I said, travelling with pets, finding transport and where to stay… I contacted my relatives, and they told me that somebody was looking for me. It was a woman from our [dog breeders] club, Natalya Karavaynikova. She left and found a person in Berdiansk for all of us who agreed to shelter us with all the pets, knowing that some breeders would be coming from Mariupol. They gave me his contact details, and we got in touch.

Literally a couple of weeks before our departure, some relatives of our relatives in Novoazovsk bought us a Phoenix SIM card, and so I had at least some mobile phone connection. We mapped a route. We found a vehicle/carrier that would take us out without a filtration procedure, because that would be a problem for us in many senses. We could not go through filtration somewhere in the city. It would not be possible to leave together with my parents and with my pets in the direction of Volodarske and, in fact, stay somewhere in the field and wait for that filtration procedure. It was an endless circle. My son’s friend found a car. We loaded our stuff and headed off. We took a minimum number of things with us. I had only some summer clothes and only an autumn jacket from my warm clothes, in which I wrapped my laptop. Surely, I cleaned my laptop in advance. It was empty.

The photo camera battery was charged a little, and when I entered my flat, I took some photos of it. When Planet store was on fire, I took a couple of photos, and then I took the memory card out. All the main things I had with me were pet boxes, draw-sheets for dogs, some water, and a small bag with dog food. We were taken to Berdiansk, travelling along some hunting trails. We drove along the bank of a pond. We travelled along such a route that we then were already in Zaporizhzhia region. We were able to leave without going through the filtration procedure.

We came there, but then we got stuck. We could not go any further. Everyone promised us something, but going for free and with my pets… Surely, people were the priority, and I understand that. Our relatives collected some [money]. When we came there, there was a big traffic jam or a queue of cars in Vasylivka. People waited for five or six days there for their turn to pass. Well, we were in no hurry, because in Berdiansk we lived in more or less liveable conditions. There was water and electricity there. There was no gas though, compared to Mariupol...

I washed my hair for the first time before Easter, and I was able to take a shower once. This was a few days before leaving. The weather got warmer. My body was all dirty, and since we were going to leave… I wore the trousers, in which I was in the basement too, and if I took them off, my legs would be just black from dirt and dust. My mother and I went to Metro hypermarket, and they gave us 10 minutes to wash. Well, we were able to wash ourselves, at least a little. When in Berdiansk, the landlady let us in [to take a shower]. She had a hot water boiler there, so we could at least have a wash and brush-up a little. So, we could not continue our travel, and then we learned some information... When we just came to Berdiansk, there was a mobile phone connection there, but two days later, the phone network ceased to be available any more. A transfer to some Russian SIM cards began, but it was not possible to get one.

Fortunately, there was a shop there and its owners offered Wi-Fi for free. We ran there twice a day to find out some information, to learn about the possibility of leaving. And when the queue of traffic in Vasylivka disappeared, and people were able to pass through in one day, I started to panic. I thought that if we did not leave now, we would not leave here at all. Our relatives collected some money for us. We found a car for quite a high price, but we were still glad that somebody agreed to take us with our pets. We drove through Vasylivka, as if under the wing of God. It happened that other people were caught by fire there, while we did not hear a single shot. We drove through just in one day.

When we reached the first checkpoint and there were Ukrainian soldiers there, it just took my breath away, so that I couldn’t even speak. We were met in Zaporizhzhia and spent the night there. Well, we agreed through some acquaintances, and they rented us some accommodation. On the next day, we went to Kyiv region. I am very grateful to my girls, who are also Chihuahua dog breeders. Olena Poliakova found us a house here. A woman, Ira Yushchenko, lived there with the nursery of Terriers. She went abroad in the first days and simply let us into her house for free. So we have been living here since the middle of June.

We ate our fill here and came to our senses. I received a lot of help. As I said, the Chihuahua dog breeders collected everything for me: dog food, dishes, bed clothes, household chemicals, all the necessary little things, and pet beds. The girls brought me everything they could. They shared things with me and supported me. My parents stayed here with me and quite recently, in the autumn, I managed to take them out to Europe. For the winter, they went to my brother. He has been living abroad for many years. He came to Europe and took them to his place. So my parents live through the winter in safety. They want to go back home very much. I do not see any other option than our victory, and I just cannot think of anything else. I live by this, although I now live for a day, basically.

At first, I was sure that I would return. I really wanted to go home, to my city, but now I don’t know. I want it to be free, to be Ukrainian in any way, and to be rebuilt. But I don’t know if I will be able to live there, as every meter of land in the city can be a burial site. I saw some dead bodies here and there, and I know that people died in some places. So, I don’t know. We’ll wait and see. But I live on being confident about the victory. All my thoughts are about waiting for it to happen, just waiting for it. It should not be otherwise, because such evil, it does not have the right to live. It simply does not have the right to exist. This is just a genocide. Killing elderly people and children, simply for nothing, in the 21st century... For the fact that they are from a different nation, for the fact that they think differently, that they lived peacefully and happily. You [Russians] did not like their happiness, and did not like that they live better than you do. It should not be like that. It just should not be so.