They shot the dogs too: ‘The terrorists killed the cutest creature ever’

Take a look at the picture. These are Yarden and Shiri Bibas, both still held hostage in Gaza, as are their two small children, Ariel and Kfir. In the picture, we see Yarden and Shiri together kissing their dog, Tonto—another beloved member family.

This was a different time, a different world, the world before October 7. Before the bloodthirsty terrorists went into the kibbutzim, raping women, looting, slaughtering and kidnapping children, babies, the elderly, men. They came to kill. And it didn’t matter who. Even animals.

So, alongside that day’s many victims in both body and soul, that Black Sabbath saw further victims: Dogs who happened to be in the murderers’ way. They too were shot on kibbutz pathways and burned alive in safe rooms.

The scope of the dogs killed that day is as yet unclear. Researcher, lecturer and dog trainer Tammy Bar-Joseph has taken it upon herself to document and research the dogs murdered or killed during the massacre. So far, she’s identified 60 dogs killed on October 7.

At Kibbutz Be’eri, there were 19 dogs killed, 11 at Kibbutz Nir Oz and nine at Kfar Aza. Five were murdered at Kibbutz Kissufim, four at Nativ Ha’asara, two at Holit and one dog killed at each of ten other communities, including Nahal Oz. Bar-Joseph believes the true figure to be higher.

Their story was somewhat lost in the chaos, sorrow and grief following October 7. Bar-Joseph, however, immediately noticed that, alongside cries for help and social media postings by people searching for their loved ones, many families from Gaza border communities were looking for their beloved dogs.

Bar-Joseph, who was writing her thesis about dogs in the Holocaust at the time, started following the story of the Gaza perimeter dogs and what they meant to the survivors and families of those who perished.

“I started following the position and presence of dogs in their families. I’ve been researching the relationship between people and dogs in Israel for many years. It follows on from, and echoes, the stories I’ve been researching from the Holocaust. The Nazis also killed Jews’ dogs. Many of these stories about dogs helping people survive, and families losing dogs who had been murdered, were repeated on October 7.”

In her study, Bar-Joseph collected testimonies from dozens of families. “They talk about the loss of their dogs like they do of friends and family,” says Bar-Joseph. “Raising dogs is part of the culture on the kibbutzim. People wrote moving eulogies for their dogs highlighting their special character and what they used to do together. Some survivors ask themselves whether they could have done more for their dogs. They wonder if the dog would have survived had they managed to get it into the safe room. Some families fled the safe room when it went up in flames, and couldn’t take the dog with them. This shared fate is very clear.”

Here, we present eight stories of the dogs of October 7.

Yarden Bibas, still held hostage in Gaza, always had a weakness for dogs. One summer, before meeting Shiri, he went to visit his parents on Kibbutz Ze’elim with his sister Ofri. At the bus stop at the kibbutz entrance, they noticed an abandoned, frightened puppy. “We said that we simply couldn’t leave him there,” says Ofri. “We took him with us, gave him some water from the guard post, but the puppy just clung to Yarden’s leg.”

The puppy was in a bad way, so Yarden and Ofri took him to their parent’s house. “We sent our mother a message reading ‘Be prepared.’ We showered him and took care of him. At some stage, Yarden decided he was adopting him. A kibbutz volunteer told them that ‘Tonto’ was a clown, so that’s what Yarden called him. It then turned out that ‘Tonto’ means ‘stupid’ or ‘idiot,’ so Yarden changed the dog’s name to ‘Toni,’ but they’d call him by either name.”

Yarden met Shiri in 2012, and Shiri met Tonto. At Yarden’s proposal to Shiri on a flight to Italy, he made up an ID card with Tonto registered as Shiri’s son, as she had officially adopted him and become part of the family. “He’d always joke that he would only propose after Yarden officially adopts Tonto,” Ofri says. As a family member, Tonto attended Yarden and Shiri’s wedding and even got a tux for the occasion. When their sons Ariel and Kfir—still held hostage in Gaza—were born, they became fast friends with Tonto.

“Toni was an extremely sensitive dog,” says Ofri. “He was very sensitive toward Yarden. Yarden only had to slightly raise his voice, and Toni would cling to Yarden’s leg. A good friend of Yarden’s, Capt. Liad Lavi, fell in Gaza during Operation Protective Edge in 2014. Yarden was having a hard time, and Tonto was sad and quiet, not leaving Yarden’s side. Since Operation Protective Edge, Tonto has been afraid of any loud noises. He’d jump up and hide if we’d move a table or if there was a knock at the door. He’d be startled by the booms and sirens, and wouldn’t leave the house. When he was at my mother’s, Tonto would go out onto the balcony, raise his eyes toward the sky, and go back indoors if he saw airplane trails.

“We don’t know exactly what happened to Toni on October 7. So, we can only assume that he went into the safe room with them. From what we know from what Yarden told the hostages who were released, Tonto left the safe room with him. I believe he left the safe room with, or before, Yarden and that the terrorists simply shot him. Tonto’s body remained there for almost a week. It was only when the soldiers went to the house, that we found out what had happened. One of the soldiers did a video call with my husband. As soon as the soldier opened the door, my husband saw Tonto lying in the living room. That’s how we found out he had been murdered.”

Tonto was taken from the home for burial at Kibbutz Ze’elim.

Yaniv and his wife Yasmin got Habibi mainly for their teenage daughter Keshet, who loved animals and would care for them in the kibbutz petting zoo and also enjoyed horseback riding. Habibi soon became part of the family. The family’s friends on the kibbutz say that Yaniv would walk around the kibbutz carrying Habibi in his arms like a baby. Keshet and Habibi were inseparable. “Habibi was destined for her,” the family says.

Ariel and other family members initially hoped that Habibi had somehow escaped and survived, and might be found. A family friend, however, went to the house and found Habibi’s body. Habibi was buried at Palmachim Beach with a sign reading, “Here lies the Zohar family’s beloved dog.”

The three Weiss daughters, Noga, 19, Maayan, 24, and Meytal had dreamed of a dog for years. Their late father, Ilan Weiss, deputy commander of Kibbutz Be’eri’s alert squad, also wanted a dog, but it didn’t work out—until a three-month-old puppy called Ketem showed up in their lives. “Dad and Ketem were inseparable,” says Meytal. “Dad would get up in the morning, have a cup of coffee on the balcony and take Ketem out for a walk. He was like his son.”

The kibbutz children also loved Ketem. When Ketem would disappear, the family knew exactly where to look for him: in the kibbutz playground where he’d spend hours chasing balls the kibbutz children would throw him. “We all loved him so much,” says Meytal. “We were very connected to him.”

Ketem was raised on the kibbutz, within that security situation. He would identify rockets from Gaza even before the siren sounded, and would run into the safe room, signaling to the family to follow. “During escalations, we’d move Ketem’s bed into the safe room and he’d sleep there. He’d shiver and not want to go out for walks,” Meytal says.

On the morning of October 7, Meytal and her sister Maayan were in their apartment in the young people’s neighborhood. Noga was with her parents Ilan and Shiri and, obviously, Ketem the dog. Like in any escalation, Ketem’s little bed was moved into the safe room. Ilan was called to open up the armory. There was no contact with him after that. He was believed to have been kidnapped until it transpired that he had been murdered that day. His body is still held in Gaza.

The terrorists infiltrated the house. “When they heard that terrorists had gotten into the house, Mom told Noga to hide under the bed,” Meytal says. “When the terrorists got in, they didn’t see Noga, only Mom. Ketem left the house after Mom and didn’t expose Noga, who was hiding under the bed. After he left, the terrorists went back into the safe room and looked for people in the wardrobe. They didn’t find anyone and set fire to the house.”

As the housefire raged, Noga escaped through the window and hid in the bushes, but the terrorists found her and she, the mother, and Shiri were kidnapped to Gaza and later returned as part of the hostage deal. It wasn’t initially clear what happened to Ketem. They then found bloodstains in the living room. “When Noga came back from captivity, she told us they shot Ketem in the living room,” Meytal says. “He was part of the family in every sense. In earlier rounds of fighting, his presence was very calming. He forced us to go out for fresh air.”

Deborah Mintz adopted Mickey, a cute mixed-breed Pinscher, when he was four months old. “My mother rescued him and they had a very special connection,” says her daughter, Amy Labban. “He was very scared, but we had another two dogs who took him under their wing and taught him what being a dog was all about.” Deborah would come around with Mickey to play with Amy’s dog, Lemon.

Mickey met Amy and husband Uriel’s baby son, born just ten days before October 7. “Mickey would come around all the time with my mother before October 7. He smelled Kai and sat next to him. Mickey would sit next to me as I was holding Kai. He was just such a sweet dog.”

When the sirens began, Amy called her mother, Deborah, to the safe room. Everyone got in, including Lemon. “But Mickey was startled and, terrified, he hid under the sofa.” When the terrorists got into the house, and set it on fire, the mother held baby Kai as Amy and Uriel clutched the door handle in an effort to prevent the terrorists from getting in.

“When they set fire to the house, and everything went up in flames,” says Amy, “we suddenly heard terrible wailing. I couldn’t even describe what kind of screaming it was. Those were his last breaths. When it all went quiet, we knew that was it. Mickey was no more. It was terrible. My mother gave up the moment we heard Mickey.”

At some point, as the smoke began suffocating them, they opened the safe room window and placed Kai on the window sill. The famous picture of the baby on the window sill became an iconic image of that dreadful day. The family intermittently opened and closed the window, until being rescued at around 2:30 p.m. With the exception of Mickey.

“My mother’s still taking it hard,” says Amy. “But it’s important for her to talk about him. She has since adopted Mini and Miri, two sweet adult dogs who were in need of a home. They were born on October 7, 2013. My mother saw this as a sign she should adopt them.”

Yaron Shazar adopted Dudi over six years ago before starting a family. “He was an amazing dog,” says Yaron. “The sound of children’s voices would always set him off, getting him excited, thinking he now had someone to play with.”

“Finding someone to host us wasn’t easy,” Yaron says. “He’s not a lapdog, he’s a giant. We drove with two kids in the back, and a huge dog on Maayan’s knees. Unlike lots of other dogs on the kibbutz, Dudi didn’t roam around the kibbutz freely doing whatever he liked. He looked a bit menacing and had a loud bark, but he was very playful. If I’d throw him something, it could keep him occupied indefinitely.”

The Shazar family lived on the second floor of a house in the center of the kibbutz, in a section known as “Komota’im” (double story). On October 7, Dudi was in his regular spot on the balcony. “We weren’t sure what to do,” says Yaron. “Should we take him with us or not? Should we put ourselves in danger to save him? Should we put him in the house so that he’s not closed in? Getting him into the safe room was a challenge. He didn’t bark at all that day. He loves barking at anyone passing by. We heard the sounds of war outside, but not his barking.”

In the afternoon, terrorists showed up at the house and tried to break into the safe room and Yaron tried fending them off by the door. When they failed to break in, the terrorists set fire to the house. “Half an hour later, we jumped out of the window and managed to escape. The house was gone. Dudi too. We hid in next door’s wooden shed and later went into next door’s house. We were rescued from Be’eri at 11:30 p.m. Our younger daughter, then two, said she wanted to go home and she wanted Dudi. Her brother, who was then four and a half, told her what we couldn’t—that the house had burned down and that Dudi was dead.”

That day, Yaron lost his aunt, Tami Suchman, friends and neighbors—and his beloved dog. “The fragments of grief are so plentiful and so scattered, it’s hard to grasp when you’re breaking because you don’t have the dog, when you’re breaking because you no longer have the house, when it’s because your aunt was murdered, when it’s life, and when it’s the kibbutz.”

“He was a very funny dog,” says Ariel. “He loved people and would put his head between people’s legs to get them to stroke him.” Roncho’s also in the couple’s wedding pictures. “It was always clear to us that he’d be part of our special day. He was a dog with principles. If, let’s say, it was raining, he could spend entire days indoors.”

As time went by, the couple had a baby daughter who was a year and half old on October 7. Roncho was ten by then. “He was lovely with Yael,” says Ariel. “They had a magical bond. She loved him. She’d lie on top of him, ride him, play with his teeth and he would lick in her in return. He was never really aware of his own size. For the most part, he was okay with the security situation. He only started getting scared during the 2021 Guardian of the Walls campaign. He’d bark every single time someone would come to the door. On that day, he understood. He could sense our anxiety and fear, and was completely silent.”

Roncho didn’t bark even when the terrorist broke through the door on October 7. “He just stayed close to me and Yael.” The terrorists threw a pile of burning clothes into the safe room and waited for the family to leave. They later also threw in a gas cylinder. Ellay and Ariel decided to escape through the flames with Yael in their arms. “Roncho didn’t want to go through the fire. I couldn’t carry a 30 kg dog through the fire. I tried going back to get him, but the room was on fire. A month later, we found him in the sphynx position. He died of smoke inhalation. The safe room didn’t burn down. He was a very special dog. People would always say that he was a human trapped in a dog’s body.”

Ellay, Ariel and Yael were badly burned and were sedated on respirators for several days. Ellay was the last one to wake up, 51 days later. She, nonetheless, completed her medical internship in August. “We told Yael that Roncho died with his friends and is now in Dogworld,” Ariel says. “A few weeks ago, we told her that we were moving to Ruhama, and that we’d be neighbors with her grandparents. Yael was very excited and asked if Roncho would be coming. She loved him so much. We very much want to adopt a dog, and we will.”

A few short months before October 7, Itai drove to the Golan Heights to get Sokka, a sweet Belgian Shepherd puppy. On October 7, when the terrorists broke into the safe room, Sokko was just a year-old pup. They murdered Itai, his wife Etti and their 14-year-old son, Sagi, leaving their daughter Tomer, 23, and her brother Hadar, 25, on their own.

“We’re a dog family, and my father has a special bond with these kinds of dogs,” says Tomer. “We had a German Shepherd who died unexpectedly. That was the first time I heard my father cry. We’ve had four dogs in the family. It’s like a child.”

Itai worked in the kibbutz avocado fields and the dogs he raised were always out with him. “I worked with my father in the avocado fields, and Sokka would always come along,” Tomer tells us. “I’d hear leaves rustling and he’d jump on me out of nowhere. I used to wear shirts from the army or the commune for work. He bit one of my shirts and tore it. This is what I have to remember him by. I was annoyed when it happened, and now this hole is my memory of him.

“We made a sticker of the family with a picture of the family with the dog, with a caption reading, ‘There were six of us. Now there are two.’ He was truly part of the family. They found him when they found my family shot dead in the safe room, with Sokka at my father’s side at the entrance.”

Sokka’s body was taken away. It’s still unclear where to. “I spent a long time trying to find out where he’d been taken. I’d go to the kibbutz, and lots of good people came with sniffer dogs trying to help me look for Sokka,” Tomer says.

“They created a ‘mass grave’ for the kibbutz dogs. We showed up with hoes and looked everywhere. Eventually, I told myself I’d done all I could. I could turn over all the earth on the kibbutz, but that’s not realistic. We have families who don’t even have graves. By the other tombstones, we put up one for Sokka and planted four avocado trees, one for each member of our family who died.”

Bonita’s murder was filmed by the terrorists in a horrific video that went viral—a symbol of the cruelty of the terrorists who wouldn’t stop at killing anyone—women, children, the elderly, dogs.

Bonita was a retired police dog. Aviad Cohen served in the police’s bomb disposal unit where he fell in love with Bonita and adopted her. His wife, Tom, was happy to welcome a new friend into the family.

“She’s the sweetest dog in the world,” she says. “She was a lump of cuteness. We very quickly fell in love with her. She’s the closest and most loyal thing in the world to us. She’s very protective and hasn’t a bad bone in her body.”

On October 7, the Cohen family was fortunately not at the kibbutz, but Bonita was left on the balcony. The family were going out of their minds with worry and, as evening fell, the community’s military liaison coordinator told them that Bonia had been found dead on a pathway near their home. Soon after, the video clip of the murder went online.

“My husband called me in the evening and told me that Bonita had been shot, it had been filmed on a terrorist bodycam and posted on Telegram,” Tom says. “I can’t describe what went through my body when I saw the video. Bonita’s an explosives detection dog. She must have smelled and heard the explosions and shooting and fled the house. We still don’t know how. She ran toward the terrorist when she saw him, probably to get petted, and that’s when she got shot. After the first shot, she’s still running toward him. He shot her again for no reason. Just to kill the cutest creature ever.”

The family, now living in an apartment block in Ramat Gan, was debating how to break the news to their three small children (4, 6 and 7). “We consulted a child psychologist about how to best tell them that Bonita was dead. I told them she died a war hero. They cried, and that made me cry. The middle child lives day to day without Bonita. His birthday wish in September was that Bonita would come back. He misses her so much. They had an amazing bond.”

Bonita was shot dead by the house of the Cohen family’s friends. “To this day, they say that she’s their miracle, and that they’re alive thanks to her. Their safe room wasn’t locked, and the terrorist skipped their house when he killed Bonita. I’m very moved to know that she saved friends from the kibbutz, knowing she didn’t die in vain. Knowing she saved lives gives her death some meaning.”