Cieco: A blind dog’s journey from Nabatieh to Beirut, escaping Israeli bombs | Israel invades Lebanon

Baabda, Lebanon – Cieco was enjoying a cool shower among the pine trees as the summer sun was finally setting.

As the soapy water ran down, his auburn and caramel coat glistened and Barbara, satisfied, undressed him and took him to the dog shelter inside the Alyarz Leisure Club.

The date was September 27, and they were in Baabda, about ten kilometers (6 miles) from Beirut.

Just as an Alyarz Pet Club (APC) volunteer let the Dutch Shepherd-Plott Hound off his leash, a loud explosion rang out.

Israel dropped 80 bombs on Dahiyeh, a suburb of Beirut, 15 minutes from the shelter.

But the deaf and blind Cieco could not hear or see the explosion, he could only hear what he must have known was the danger.

He was rescued after being shot in the face

Cieco (which means “blind” in Italian and is called “Cheyko”) had just arrived at APC two days earlier, on September 25, from the Mashala animal shelter in Nabatieh, on the southern border between Lebanon and Israel.

He had been living there for two years, under the supervision of Mashala’s founder, Hossein Hamza, who took him in after he received a phone call telling him that a dog had been found, shot in the face.

Many pellets – their origin is unknown – remain lodged in Cieco’s face and mouth.

Hamza did not mention the name of the injured dog that arrived at his shelter two years ago, focusing on taking care of his health, so Cieco was named by the group when he arrived at the APC in Baabda.

As Israel intensified and expanded its attacks on Lebanon last month, Hamza became concerned about the most vulnerable animals in the shelter and began planning to get them out.

She posted a video on social media, urging people to adopt or care for a blind dog and cat, and the Lebanese community responded positively.

In the following hours, dozens of people reached out, and a few days later, Hamza entrusted the blind cat and dog to a taxi driver in Sidon, who took them to Beirut.

The 90-minute journey took hours due to traffic jams with people fleeing south, compounded by incessant Israeli shelling on some roads.

How much Cieco heard it is a mystery.

When he arrived at APC, he needed time to adapt to life in the shelter and was gradually introduced to other dogs and the environment.

“He was first separated to get used to the smell around him. He was very scared, he did not understand who we are and where he is,” explained Razanne Khatib, founder of APC.

“He couldn’t sleep. And when he did, he would sleep upright.

“Then we introduced him to other dogs, and now he’s very trusting of his place.”

‘We need people to save animals’

Hamza has never considered migrating south himself, as an estimated one million people have done across Lebanon in the past few weeks.

Leaving the shelter and animals behind is not an option, he said.

“For society to progress, we need people who will save people, but also people who will save animals. And another part is to help the environment. If you think you can help people and not other creatures, you are disrupting society and the environment.”

For the past 18 years, she has been caring for dogs, cats, and chickens, relying on the goodwill of people and private donors to provide the animals with food and shelter and compensation for her helpers.

At first, he only imported pets into his neighborhood. But he gradually grew, unable to chase away the animal until his shelter, equipped to receive 150 animals. Now, it has about 300 dogs, 50 cats and other animals.

Now living in Kfour, a short distance from the border, Hamza has adopted a new daily routine as Israeli attacks have increased in recent weeks.

Although he used to check on the animals every day, the dangerous roads make driving impossible and now he makes sure there is enough food to last the animals for a few days, in case he can’t return quickly.

Hamza also looks for animals abandoned in empty lots, feeds any strays, and coordinates with shelters around the country to get as many animals as possible to safety.

“At home, I take care of my chickens, cats and birds, I feed them before going to the shelter,” he said.

“First, I feed and water the animals [I do a] local cycle. I feed them to the animals in the countryside, and sometimes people tell me about dogs that are scared by airplanes and explosions, so I check on them and the animals that are left behind.”

The situation has not improved in Nabatieh, and Hamza finds himself busier every day. But the rescuers who took the animals from him sent him regular updates.

Sandra Mouawad, founder of the Paws Crossed Lebanon shelter in Beirut, adopted a blind cat, named Fossa, while APC adopted a dog they later named Cieco.

‘My fate is in His hands’

During the attack that killed Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah two days after Cieco arrived at Baabda, some dogs at the facility began growling and barking while others huddled in enclosures, frightened by the commotion.

Cieco didn’t move, though he might have been shaken by the tremors.

The night that followed was a nightmare for the people of Dahiyeh, faced with Israel’s demand that they leave certain areas before they were bombarded throughout the night.

Families with children, the elderly, and animals were forced to sleep on the streets.

Lebanon’s most vulnerable communities, already weakened by the many crises of the past few years, have been left even more desolate.

Even the animals did not survive. On October 4, the APC posted pictures of animals screaming and crying out in fear as Israeli explosions erupted in the background.

But shelters across Lebanon, including Hamza, are defiant, saying now is the time to step up, not back down.

“When you love something, love grows over time,” explained Hamza, referring to his love for the animals he cares for.

“My conscience did not allow me to leave them, even though my family had already left. If I didn’t love these animals as much as I do, I wouldn’t be here anymore.

“But I love them, and I trust in God – my destiny is in His hands.”