South Lebanon Man Cares for Pets Left Behind as Residents Flee Israeli Strikes

In this photo provided by Mashala Shelter, Hussein Hamza feeds dogs at his animal shelter in Kfour, south Lebanon in 2024. (Mashala Shelter via AP)
In this photo provided by Mashala Shelter, Hussein Hamza feeds dogs at his animal shelter in Kfour, south Lebanon in 2024. (Mashala Shelter via AP)
TT

South Lebanon Man Cares for Pets Left Behind as Residents Flee Israeli Strikes

In this photo provided by Mashala Shelter, Hussein Hamza feeds dogs at his animal shelter in Kfour, south Lebanon in 2024. (Mashala Shelter via AP)
In this photo provided by Mashala Shelter, Hussein Hamza feeds dogs at his animal shelter in Kfour, south Lebanon in 2024. (Mashala Shelter via AP)

A dog clings to Hussein Hamza inside a car as he pans his camera around to show the aftermath of an Israeli airstrike in southern Lebanon.
“Poor thing. Look at this, he’s clinging to me out of fear,” Hamza says in the video he posted online. “A missile hit here,” he said, his voice shaking.
As Israel pummels southern Lebanon with airstrikes, tens of thousands of residents are fleeing their homes in fear. But Hamza is staying. His mission is to care for the dogs and other animals left behind.
He runs an animal shelter that houses 200 dogs in the village of Kfour. Recently, he has also been driving around towns and villages in the south, looking for stray animals and abandoned pets to feed, The Associated Press reported.
“I opened bags of food and left them water. I’m relying on God,” said Hamza as he spread food hundreds of meters away from the shelter he runs, in case the dogs need to escape the facility when airstrikes come too close.
With his town under constant bombardment, Hamza, 56, refused to abandon the animals in his care.
Despite the danger, Hamza drives around looking for stray animals and pets left behind by families, many of them abandoned behind locked gates. He brings them food, and then posts the videos online.
“Come here, come here! I got you food,” Hamza called to a dog hiding behind a fence in one of his online videos. “At least unleash your dogs,” he pleads with residents in his videos. “The dog owners had to escape on foot and couldn’t take them.”
In the midst of the chaos, Hamza has become a lifeline for many who reach out to him, hoping he can get food to their pets.
“This nice man called me, crying. They (the family) left the dogs behind the fence, and they couldn’t take them,” he said. “I just got the dogs dry food.”
Hamza’s journey has been perilous. On more than one occasion, he’s narrowly avoided airstrikes.
His work extends beyond dogs. “We found a chicken on the road,” Hamza explained in another clip. “It flew from a pickup truck. I will take it home.”
Hamza’s shelter has attracted support online, allowing him to buy 200 bags of dog food to distribute to the dogs in the region.
Even so, the danger keeps mounting. “I hope someone can take some load off my shoulders,” Hamza said as he picked up an elderly stray dog off the street and into his car.
“God help people. At the time of a strike, people lose it and don’t know what to do,” he said while dropping off food and water in remote areas.



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
TT

With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.