Noura was 24 years old when she decided to get a cat. The circumstances were unreasonable – she was living and working in Erbil, Iraq but visiting her family in Damascus, Syria for a couple of weeks in the summer of 2014.

“I didn’t know why it came to my mind, just out of sudden, that I really wanted to have a cat with me, with the family.”

It was only 15 days. That was the duration of time Noura had with her family in Damascus before she needed to head back to Erbil. But in those 15 days, she just wanted to have a cat to spend the time with. Suffice to say, her mother was quite apprehensive about it. They’d had rabbits as children, but had never got too attached to them.

“No, don’t make me do that,” she screamed all over the house and Noura pleaded: “Mum, please. We just want to have fun with this little creature. And it’s only 15 days and if you don’t like it, I will just take it back to where I brought it from. I’ll take it back before I leave for Iraq again.”

15 days later, the kitten sat on Mum’s lap as Noura packed her bags and left her mother and sister in Damascus. When they called her in Erbil, they’d show her what the kitten – now named Fulla –  was doing, how she was eating, how she was playing. Through the screen, Noura started to get attached.

“From Iraq to Syria, I started loving that cat.”

In Syria, animals are generally treated in a poor way. Mainly, it is something inherited. Culturally, it’s not common to have animals inside the house – in fact, it’s more common to hit or treat them poorly to keep them away particularly in regional areas. You can see cats and other animals on the streets in bad conditions. Noura started seeing them everywhere.

“When you start dealing with the cat in your house, you start feeling that she is or he is a creature just like us. They feel the pain. They have emotions. They sometimes are happy, sometimes they’re sad. They are a living being, you know? They feel just like us. I started focusing more on animals and naturally, I started giving more attention to the stray cats and dogs.”

In Erbil at the time, there was no organisation for animal protection and care, so people would just help them individually, paying out of pocket for veterinary care. So that’s what Noura did. Every time she stumbled across an injured cat or mistreated dog on the streets, she’d take them into her own arms and pay for their vet bills.

She started searching for grassroot collections and found a group of local Kurdish young folks, as well as expats from Canada and the US, working in Erbil while volunteering their time and money to help these animals. It was a small organisation, but it was something. She started building communities online in various areas across the city – coordinating networks of people who were willing to report, pick up and take animals to vets available. The community was growing, but always in need of more people to work and volunteer. So if someone needed help and no one in their area could help, Noura was there.

“Everyone started knowing me and my work with animals. Even people in other areas – because of the posts I shared. Everyone started knowing my relationship with animals. I started getting really, really attached to that part of my life. It changed me.”

Ginger came into Noura’s life in the summer of 2017. 

“Someone contacted me, telling me that they found this cat on the street. ‘We’re happy to keep him, but he’s not in a good condition. Can you take him to the doctor?’ I said yes, of course. They brought him to me. He was paralysed – the back legs weren’t moving. He was only using his front legs. It was overwhelming because he was just this small, cute and very vulnerable thing reaching out to us, trying to work hard to get to us.

”She took him to the vet straight away. She needed to put in the work, but with medication and physiotherapy, he might be able to walk again. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

In her heart, she knew she would do whatever it takes to get Ginger walking again. She took him regularly to the vet to get injections. At home, she put him on her lap and did physio exercises with his legs. It was hard work, but still it was fun.

“He really messed with my heart since the beginning. His behaviour was very quiet but very loving. He just wanted to reach out to us and get cuddles, get attention. It really melted my heart when he was reaching out to me. I don’t know what you call it, but I always feel weak in front of those kinds of situations. Strong and weak at the same time. I saw him reaching out to me as if he’s telling me: Please, I need help.”

It took her around three months to get him to stand. He still couldn’t do it properly, but he started trying to walk and even jump. But after a year and a half, he started attacking other cats. When he attacked, he did it suddenly and very viciously. The vet believed it was likely a link to some sort of trauma which is to be expected because of his legs.

“How did he get paralysed? Maybe someone hit him with a stick? Maybe it was a car? We will never know, but it was definitely some sort of trauma.”  

After countless hospital visits, being separated from other cats fostered in the house, medication and behavioural therapy sessions, nothing worked. And while Noura never understood his behaviour, she continued to love him. And he loved her in return.

“He started creating a bond with me. He would run to me when I came through the door. He would lick my face to wake me in the morning. If I tried to ignore him, he would nudge me with his paw. He would follow me everywhere. He was different to others. He was cheeky, he was aggressive, but he was vulnerable. It made me feel even more, how do you call it? Even more passionate towards him. He was totally special for me, and I was special for him. I knew then I could never be away from this cat no matter what happened. Even if he destroyed the whole house, I will never be away from him.”

Amidst daily threats of bombing during the height of Syrian civil war violence in 2018, Noura’s family left Damascus to join her in Erbil – her parents, brother, sister and Fulla. Noura herself had Ginger and another cat Zaara. Together, they applied under the status of humanitarian refugees to move to Australia.

“When our progression started to happen with the application, the first thing I was thinking of was: ‘How am I going to take my cats with me?’ Because I would never, ever imagine myself leaving them behind. Never.”

The disappointment and fear began when she started learning how difficult it is to import a pet cat into Australia compared to all other countries. It was not only strict but also extremely unaffordable. The first company she called quoted $23,000 USD. With that, they’d do everything – you just give them the cats and they will find a way to deliver it. But to Noura, this was impossible.

Approximately 73% of households in Australia have pets. Imagine how it would feel if tomorrow you had to pack up and leave without them. 

“For refugees … Let’s talk not just about refugees. I wish that the normal procedure to import a pet to Australia was a bit easier. It’s way too complicated. Why does a pet need to travel to a third country and stay in quarantine there, if it’s going to stay in quarantine in Australia and get all the medical tests done here too?” 

For someone who is forcibly displaced, keeping the family together is a critical part of staying strong and being able to rebuild a life somewhere else. 

“When everything in our life seems to fall apart and we have left our countries and everything behind – our family, our friends, our childhood and our young memories, our roots that shaped us into what we are now … It’s harsh enough to start your life from scratch grieving what you have left behind despite the trauma you have carried with you from war. 

“As a refugee, it would be amazing if they can at least ask if this family has a furry family member that would be left behind. And if so, they can bring those pets with them. Even if they will still have a procedure, they could make it clear and get financial help so it doesn’t become so costly for a refugee. 

“When you first arrive, you might not have the language or the experience to work. I had the language to go to a cafe and work, but other people might not be able to get all this money. It’s already distressing enough to be separated and go through the whole process yourself of displacement. This is the one thing that can be helped.”