A long time ago, my husband got that tattoo. Back then, we had only been dating for a miserable four years, so I did not really dig too deeply into the mysterious riddles of ink under the skin in the form of a bracelet on his wrist. Our friend, by the way, did the tattoo right there in our bedroom at home, while I sat out on the balcony with a pack of Parliament Aqua cigarettes. At the time, I was not especially interested in environmental protection or animal rights. It all felt distant and unnecessary. I remember that the first photos of Zelenskyy’s inauguration were only just beginning to appear in the news, while Lana Del Rey songs played on the radio. A strange combination, but 2019 was full of surprises. It was a time of carefree use of plastic straws, plastic bags, pirated films, and cosmetics from Eva. And if you do not touch on the political dramas, overall it was not such a bad time. I think people in America probably remember the 1960s the same way: things were pretty good, but Oswald and Vietnam spoiled it a bit.
When I finally came out to see how the new tattoo was doing, the guys were already laughing at those unfunny jokes all young men seem to love, and they said it was under film and that I could look later. No problem. I had my thesis hanging over me anyway; I was getting ready to earn my bachelor’s degree in international relations. But late at night, after hours spent at the computer and constant smoke breaks, I finally asked my boyfriend at the time what the hell he had gotten tattooed. And by now you almost know what it was. “We are the voices of the voiceless.” I nodded, like, cool, but what does that mean? And then my not exactly emotional boyfriend gave what was probably the strongest explanation I could have imagined. It was his personal reminder of the importance of protecting animals. It was simple: we have a voice, and they do not. We can protect ourselves, and they cannot. We have to be there for them here and now, at whatever level we are able. That was it.
Yes, that was how it all began for me. Protests with UAnimals, tears in my eyes over footage from baiting stations, a full-on cat boom in my life (I now have three cats, and that is only because we did manage to place two in a family), veganism, and a constant search for more information on these issues. So, as you can see, some tattoos affect your life quite strongly. Except then, in 2022, the war began in Ukraine. And that damned bitch does not give you time to think. It turns your existence 180 degrees and does not stop; it pushes forward like a tank and laughs through the explosions. Despite all the efforts of animal rights defenders and activists, animals still die every day, every hour. It is impossible to express enough gratitude to the already mentioned UAnimals for the amount of effort they have put into rescuing, evacuating, treating, and feeding tailed, feathered, and other little friends. They do everything that we cannot do or are afraid to do, and I would like to remind people of that once again. And to say thank you. Over and over again.
But life is complicated, and as they say, it is impossible to save everyone. Sadly, on April 3 of this year alone, around 20 little souls, according to the Kyiv Regional Military Administration, departed for a better world. It was a day that did not pass without a drone attack, and in Chabany, in the Kyiv region, that damned killing machine struck a veterinary clinic. At the time of the hit, the staff were in a shelter, so they were not injured. According to them, the strike hit the inpatient ward and the intensive care unit, where the animals were at that moment. Rescuers, together with the clinic staff, tried to save the little ones, but sadly, they could not. Innocent lives died in the very place that should have been the safest. And how many more like them do we lose every single day?
There will probably be those for whom this kind of sentimentality seems unnecessary, especially in the context of war. “People die every day too! Children, equally innocent victims of death. Little minds with consciousness, desires, and pain.” And all of that is true. Unfortunately, there is no rule saying that only the evil and rotten, the useless and vile, will die. No, the scythe takes the best of the best, the brave, the strong, the fearless, the real ones. And that is without even mentioning those who went to the front. It is impossible to find enough epithets for them to ever feel like enough. People are ready to lay down their lives for freedom, for truth, for faith, and for their home. Could animals do the same? Hard to say.
And anyway, should they have to? Where is that line that says whose death deserves respect and remembrance, tears and grief, and whose does not? Did those animals not have hearts pumping blood, memory clinging to a food bowl, or love for their owner who warmly hugs them in the middle of the night? They have all of that. They are only deprived of a voice in their existence. To us, their language seems insignificant, unimportant, nothing more than a chatter of sounds, noise among noise, an unsolved mystery without which one can live a long and happy life. And maybe that is how it is meant to be. Maybe they do not need to become presidents, take seats in the Council of Europe, ring up your groceries at the checkout, or file your taxes. It seems there should be a place for them on this planet without feats, victories, or achievements. They simply have to be here, near us or far from us, on the couch or deep in the forest, but animals are part of our world, however hard that may be to realize.
And I understand why that is difficult. Because once, just once, you see a living soul in a being that used to seem like nothing more than a fluffy little creature, you can never stop thinking about the importance of its life. It is no longer just an animal in the yard, but a dog that is cold. The cats by the entrance no longer look like part of the scenery, but beings just like us, wanting love, understanding, and safety. And once you see the news about a shelter or a veterinary clinic being hit, you can no longer hide behind the illusory shield of indifference. No. You begin to feel that pain just as strongly as you once felt torn apart by the death of any human being. And that is hard. It hurts, and it is… real?
Will everyone see meaning in what I have written? I do not know, but I hope for the best. Maybe some people’s minds will not yet allow them to let such feelings into their hearts, and I understand that. We are not machines, and the limit of our emotions is not endless. But a long time ago I heard a powerful phrase, and it changed my attitude toward animals forever. It is still there on my husband’s arm, and despite the slightly blurred outlines of the letters, I still remember what it means. Now I have at least some kind of voice, and I would like to use it to remind everyone of those victims whose lives were cut short just as unfairly, too early, and so wrongly. We will not hear about them in the news as often as they deserve. No one will tell us about their favorite treats or show us their favorite place to sleep. But they were part of our society, our universe, and our lives. And though they were voiceless, their lost lives will leave a loud echo in our hearts—hearts that have been given a voice.
Author: Viktoriia Hridina
