We poured out piles of dog food for them and brought water.
“It’s impossible to tell where the thirty-kilometer zone ends and the twenty-kilometer zone begins. We just kept going further in. When we got to the fifteen-kilometer zone there were signs left by the police that said, ‘Please don’t enter. Danger Zone.’ We kept going.
“The towns were completely vacant. So many dogs roaming around with collars on. The dogs that weren’t tied up came to us. We fed and watered them and put them into the car. None of them tried to bite us. They knew we were there to help. We had a four-wheel drive with cages in the back. We went looking for the ones left inside. It was weird breaking into people’s houses. But we got a lot of dogs out and drove them the three hours to the shelter in Fukushima City.
“That’s how our days were: we’d arrive by nine or ten in the morning and leave by four. There were some police who saw us. They warned us that if we were killed by wandering thieves, no one would find us. But most of the police felt sad for the animals and encouraged us. They just said, ‘Be careful, and good luck.’
“It was impossible for us to rescue cattle and horses. We only had a car. But we saw some and they were in bad shape. We went to a town that had been flattened by the tsunami and saw dead horses. All I remember is the horrible look of starvation on their faces. Their eyes had fallen out, and they were lying on their sides.
“At some point it became illegal to enter the inner zones. Barriers were erected and we couldn’t get the car through. The government said they were going to euthanize all the animals left behind, despite the fact that some of us were willing to go in and get animals out. I heard that the police were ‘euthanizing’ cows by rubbing detergent down the cows’ throats, leaving them convulsing. A group of us sent a plea to use real medicine. After the lockdown on the zones, we still tried to get it, but they stopped us.
“This was my first time at animal rescue. I spent a total of thirty days inside the no/go zones. I don’t worry about radiation. I’m twenty-seven and live in Tokyo. I have no children. We were probably exposed to much more than we knew about at the time, but it doesn’t worry me. I feel I did the right thing.
“The dogs I rescued remember me. I can’t have a dog where I live, but I’ve ‘adopted’ a little white dog that is at my friend’s shelter called SORA. She waits for me to come.”
North of Fukushima Prefecture, on the Tohoku coast, dogs ran during the earthquake or were washed away by the tsunami. A group of rescuers from a sanctuary called Dogwood outside of Sendai began looking for animals.
The founder said, “After March 11, the police weren’t letting us in. I was trying to get to the places covered with water—to Ishinomaki, Higashi-Matsushima, and Natori, but when we finally got to the coast, there weren’t any dogs around. Most of them had drowned in the Wave.
“A little further inland we found dogs inside cars, using them as a house. A call came from a woman whose dog had survived the Wave, but had heart problems. She wasn’t allowed to bring the dog into the evacuation center, so she was living with it outside in a tool shed. When we located her, she and the dog were shivering; it was snowing hard.
“So many owners have never had the experience of being separated from their dogs. We offered help: we said we’d keep the dogs safe and warm and well-cared for until they were more settled. But when these people went into temporary housing, they found the spaces so small it wasn’t possible to keep the dog, so we are keeping them even longer.
“There are 150 dogs here right now. Some are unstable and others don’t change despite all they’ve experienced. They can cope with it. We find that the unstable dogs are mirroring the owners’ fears. The strong dogs know to wait; they know someone will come for them again. If the
“It’s impossible to tell where the thirty-kilometer zone ends and the twenty-kilometer zone begins. We just kept going further in. When we got to the fifteen-kilometer zone there were signs left by the police that said, ‘Please don’t enter. Danger Zone.’ We kept going.
“The towns were completely vacant. So many dogs roaming around with collars on. The dogs that weren’t tied up came to us. We fed and watered them and put them into the car. None of them tried to bite us. They knew we were there to help. We had a four-wheel drive with cages in the back. We went looking for the ones left inside. It was weird breaking into people’s houses. But we got a lot of dogs out and drove them the three hours to the shelter in Fukushima City.
“That’s how our days were: we’d arrive by nine or ten in the morning and leave by four. There were some police who saw us. They warned us that if we were killed by wandering thieves, no one would find us. But most of the police felt sad for the animals and encouraged us. They just said, ‘Be careful, and good luck.’
“It was impossible for us to rescue cattle and horses. We only had a car. But we saw some and they were in bad shape. We went to a town that had been flattened by the tsunami and saw dead horses. All I remember is the horrible look of starvation on their faces. Their eyes had fallen out, and they were lying on their sides.
“At some point it became illegal to enter the inner zones. Barriers were erected and we couldn’t get the car through. The government said they were going to euthanize all the animals left behind, despite the fact that some of us were willing to go in and get animals out. I heard that the police were ‘euthanizing’ cows by rubbing detergent down the cows’ throats, leaving them convulsing. A group of us sent a plea to use real medicine. After the lockdown on the zones, we still tried to get it, but they stopped us.
“This was my first time at animal rescue. I spent a total of thirty days inside the no/go zones. I don’t worry about radiation. I’m twenty-seven and live in Tokyo. I have no children. We were probably exposed to much more than we knew about at the time, but it doesn’t worry me. I feel I did the right thing.
“The dogs I rescued remember me. I can’t have a dog where I live, but I’ve ‘adopted’ a little white dog that is at my friend’s shelter called SORA. She waits for me to come.”
North of Fukushima Prefecture, on the Tohoku coast, dogs ran during the earthquake or were washed away by the tsunami. A group of rescuers from a sanctuary called Dogwood outside of Sendai began looking for animals.
The founder said, “After March 11, the police weren’t letting us in. I was trying to get to the places covered with water—to Ishinomaki, Higashi-Matsushima, and Natori, but when we finally got to the coast, there weren’t any dogs around. Most of them had drowned in the Wave.
“A little further inland we found dogs inside cars, using them as a house. A call came from a woman whose dog had survived the Wave, but had heart problems. She wasn’t allowed to bring the dog into the evacuation center, so she was living with it outside in a tool shed. When we located her, she and the dog were shivering; it was snowing hard.
“So many owners have never had the experience of being separated from their dogs. We offered help: we said we’d keep the dogs safe and warm and well-cared for until they were more settled. But when these people went into temporary housing, they found the spaces so small it wasn’t possible to keep the dog, so we are keeping them even longer.
“There are 150 dogs here right now. Some are unstable and others don’t change despite all they’ve experienced. They can cope with it. We find that the unstable dogs are mirroring the owners’ fears. The strong dogs know to wait; they know someone will come for them again. If the
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