evacuation centers

WHEN TYPHOON Tino lashed through Cebu City, the images that flooded social media were heartbreaking. Families wading through waist-deep water, children clinging to plastic tubs, dogs swimming beside them or trapped on rooftops, eyes wide with fear. In the chaos of evacuation, many pets were left behind. Some owners had no choice. The evacuation centers did not allow animals. Others simply could not carry their pets with them. For those who did, shelters often turned them away.

In times of disaster, we often talk about saving lives, but rarely do we ask whose lives are we saving? For many Filipinos, pets are not just animals. They are family. They sleep beside us, greet us after a long day, and bring comfort in ways words cannot. Yet, when disaster strikes, our laws, systems, and even our communication strategies seem to forget them.

During typhoons, floods, and earthquakes, animals become the silent victims. They have no voice to cry for help, no way to understand the panic unfolding around them. Many perish not from the force of nature but from neglect and exclusion in disaster planning.

Government disaster protocols often focus on human evacuation, as they should. But it is equally important to recognize that animals, especially domesticated pets, depend entirely on human care for survival. The decision to leave them behind is not one of indifference; it is one of heartbreak. Imagine being told you must abandon a member of your family because there is no place for them in safety.

This is not just an issue of animal welfare. It is a communication failure. It shows that our disaster messaging, our preparedness plans, and even our social development goals overlook the emotional and social realities of Filipino families.

Evacuation centers across the Philippines are rarely designed with inclusivity in mind. Many still lack accessibility for persons with disabilities, gender-sensitive spaces, or privacy for mothers and children. And when it comes to animals, the exclusion is total.

This sends a troubling message: compassion has limits. It implies that some lives matter more than others, that animals are disposable once survival becomes inconvenient. But to many families, leaving a pet behind is like leaving behind a piece of themselves. Some refuse to evacuate altogether if they cannot bring their pets, endangering their own lives in the process.

This is why communication is critical. Disaster preparedness must include clear, compassionate information about what pet owners can do before, during, and after calamities. Authorities should coordinate with veterinary offices, animal welfare groups, and local communities to create pet-friendly evacuation policies. Compassion should not be conditional—it should be systemic.

Our pets teach us many things about humanity. They show us unconditional love, loyalty, and presence. They remind us that relationships are built not through words but through care. In disasters, they mirror our fear but also our resilience.

When families evacuate, children cry not only for the loss of their home but for the absence of their pets. Psychologists note that animals help reduce trauma during crises. The simple act of holding or seeing a pet can calm anxiety and provide emotional stability. Including animals in disaster management is, therefore, not only humane but also therapeutic. It helps families heal faster and rebuild stronger.

In 2013, the Philippines passed the Animal Welfare Act (Republic Act No. 1063), which recognizes animals as sentient beings capable of feeling pain and suffering. Yet disaster preparedness policies remain silent about them. This gap reflects how policy and compassion often fail to meet.

A humane disaster framework should include:

1. Pet-friendly evacuation centers – designated areas within shelters where animals can stay safely, supervised by trained personnel or volunteers.
2. Local animal rescue and relief teams – equipped with cages, food, and first aid for injured or stranded pets.
3. Community awareness campaigns – teaching pet owners how to prepare go-bags for their pets, including food, water, and vaccination records.
4. Coordination with veterinary offices – to ensure animals receive proper care and medical attention post-disaster.

These are not grand reforms. They are acts of empathy that acknowledge animals as part of our social ecosystem. Including them in disaster communication strengthens community trust and participation. It tells citizens that their full reality, their homes, their families, and their pets are valued.

The media also plays a crucial role. After every disaster, viral images of stranded dogs and cats stir public outrage, but the attention fades once the storm does. Instead of waiting for heartbreak to trend online, the conversation must shift to prevention.

Journalists and content creators can highlight stories of successful animal rescues, local shelters doing good work, and policies that promote animal welfare. These stories remind us that kindness is not weakness; it is strength. It is how communities survive together. Social media can also become a space of coordination. During disasters, posts about missing or rescued pets become lifelines. With proper communication strategies, these networks can help reunite families with their furbabies faster.

Ultimately, how we communicate during crises reflects who we are as a nation. A government that includes animals in disaster preparedness shows a deep understanding of human emotion. It recognizes that empathy is not limited by species. When we plan for everyone, including the voiceless, we become more humane, more inclusive, and more prepared. Communication becomes not just about information but about connection. It is a way of saying: you are not alone, and neither are those you love.

In every evacuation center, every temporary shelter, and every flooded street, spaces speak. They reveal what we value as a society. A space that welcomes both people and their pets speaks of compassion and understanding. A space that turns them away speaks of hierarchy and indifference.

We can choose what our spaces say. They can either echo the same silence that follows every storm, or they can speak of kindness, foresight, and care for all living beings.

No tail should be left behind in any calamity. Because when we save our pets, we also save a part of our humanity.

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Kethelle I. Sajonia is a college instructor at the University of Southeastern Philippines, Mintal Campus. She is currently in the final phase of her Doctor of Communication degree at the University of the Philippines. Her research interests include inclusivity, education, communication, and social development. She actively engages in scholarly research and community-based initiatives that advocate for inclusive and transformative communication practices.