War in the Galilee

In May a New York Times reporter stayed at our hotel in Tsfat – The Way Inn – and interviewed me on how our lives have changed since the War. There are the big changes, such as being without work and income and living in a constant low-grade state of existential anxiety from regular missile strikes and armed drones in our skies. And there are the small things, like having to think twice about taking your dog to the Vet because it could put your life at risk. 

My veterinarian’s clinic is in Kiryat Shmona, a town 25 minutes from my home in Rosh Pina and under relentless rocket attack from Hezbollah since the war began. On October 20th, most of the town’s 23,000 residents were evacuated, joining the other citizens of Northern Israel who had to flee their homes, now numbering 80,000. Dr. Ra’anan lives in a kibbutz nearby that was not evacuated and although his business is down seventy percent, he daily risks his life to attend to animals still living in the area. 

I have a two year old Aussie Doodle who is a sensitive ‘designer dog’ and bit of a hypochondriac. If his leg hurts, he will walk around all day with his paw in the air, eliciting extra cuddles and compassion. We have a running tab at the vet for sprained paws, surgeries to remove swallowed rocks, broken teeth, wheat spikes in the ear, and too much more. I have put off going to the vet several times in the last few months, and often the problem resolved itself. But Toby’s eye had been drippy for a month. I tried a local Vet and the problem persisted. I could no longer put off taking Toby to Dr. Ra’anan, even if it meant driving into a battle zone. 

I overcame my fear of being caught in a rocket barrage while on the road. After all, what are the chances there would be a missile attack just when I happened to be there? Clearly I didn’t notice the smirk on Murphy’s face! I arrived to an empty clinic with just Dr Ra’anan and two staff. He immediately diagnosed a blocked tear duct. As he finished his examination, a siren sent us dashing to a bomb shelter adjacent to the clinic. Just as we entered, there was a massive explosion! I read later in the news that more than fifteen missiles were fired on Kiryat Shmona and while most were intercepted by Iron Dome, two fell in the city causing damage. The rockets had heavy payloads like the one that killed twelve children in Majd al Shams two weeks earlier. Once I caught my breath I asked Dr Ra’anan how he could work under such conditions, with continual rocket and RPG attacks so close to his clinic? He said, “we just do… but the worst part is that we have become used to it.” 

The next day our Shabbat peace was shattered by sirens warning of explosive drones in the skies. They crossed a huge swath of the Galilee, sending residents from many communities to their shelters.  I later learned the Mevo’ot Hermon Hydro Therapy Center was struck and heavily damaged. It is my winter swimming hole and one of the largest therapeutic pools in the country, serving handicapped soldiers, disabled and elderly people in a wide area. It has been closed for over ten months now, since the war began. While we were safe in our mamad, my son was out exercising in the park, prepping for his recruitment into the army a few days later. Worried for his safety, my 26 year old daughter melted down with a small panic attack. My husband Rony, the cool unflappable Israeli, calmed her. A wave of anxiety flooded me, but I swallowed hard and it dissolved.

I, too, had been caught outside just a few days earlier when a siren sounded. I was walking the teary Toby on the hillside above Rosh Pina with my friend Michal. It is a beautiful walk, with sweeping views of the Hula valley, the pink mountains of the Golan Heights and the gleaming waters of Lake Kinneret. It was just before sunset and a refreshing breeze was lifting the heavy summer heat. We climbed higher, so delighted with the wind and the views, we didn’t realize we were getting close to the army base at the top of the mountain, a target for Hezbollah rockets. Suddenly a siren pierced the stillness and we hit the ground, remembering to put our hands over our heads, as I had been taught in the Home Front Command seminar on wartime ‘resilience’ where I learned how to give emergency CPR and stop bleeding from shrapnel wounds. Skills I never imagined I would need. We looked up to see a rocket sail through the sky and land in a field outside Rosh Pina. Shakily, we stood up and began picking out the tiny thorns which had lodged in our knees. Luckily, that was our only injury. But now I no longer walk Toby up the mountain and we limit ourselves to the neighborhood sidewalk. 

Rony and I escaped the city years ago for the serenity of the countryside, for the soft green hills, abundant nature and laid back lifestyle of Israel’s beautiful North. Now our idyllic landscape is blighted by blackened soil and burnt trees, the peace punctuated by booms from Iron Dome downing missiles and the hum of war planes flying overhead. Such is life today in the Galilee, where a visit to the Vet is life threatening.