War Narratives: Israel's Conflics and its Consequences
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Walking the Dogs as the Skies Threaten War: A Haifa War Diary

A Haifa resident confronts the strange duality of life under threat — the as if normal routines of dogs, grandkids, and errands, and the ever present sense that overt war could erupt without warning.

Walking the Dogs as the Skies Threaten War: A Haifa War Diary

For ten months, I have tried not to dwell on how this war is affecting me personally, even as missiles and drones launched from Lebanon land north of Haifa with a boom or are intercepted with another boom. Living in Haifa has spared me the worst so far, yet the war of attrition since Oct 7th, the looming threat of a wider conflict with Iran and Hezbollah, and the single alarm we had long ago all sit inside me like a taut bowstring. Writing this now is my attempt to understand what daily life under these conditions has quietly become.


But what do I do with the dogs?
When David Roytenberg of the Canadian Zionist Forum asked me to describe what life feels like in Haifa these days, I realized I had spent ten months avoiding that question. Missiles and drones are launched from Lebanon almost daily, sometimes landing 120 km away, sometimes only 30 km away. The threat of an out‑and‑out war with Iran and Hezbollah hangs over us, heavier than the war of attrition we have lived with since Oct 7th. I decided to write a snapshot from 7 August to see what would surface.

I have told myself this war does not directly touch me. I live in Haifa, and aside from hosting a young man displaced from Tel Hai, knowing people in the reserves, speaking with hostage families and the father of a fallen soldier, and knowing someone who knows someone killed at the Nova Festival, life has felt removed. There was one alarm in Haifa a long time ago. Oct 7th feels like years ago, and also like yesterday.

And then I found myself worrying about the dogs.

My daughter’s family has two dogs, mother and daughter. They are staying with me because my daughter and her husband must leave their rental before renovations on their new apartment are complete. Soon my small home will hold three adults, two children, and two dogs. Under normal circumstances, this would be chaotic but manageable. With the clouds of overt war gathering, it feels different.

I suddenly wondered what to do if an alarm goes off while I am walking them. I know what parents do with children, but I have never seen guidance for dogs. So I asked Facebook. People sent “care” emojis. Some offered practical advice: stay close to home, or if caught too far, crouch by a wall with the dogs beside you. One person accused me of hating dogs for even asking. All kinds, right?

Safe at home?
My building has no mamad, no reinforced shelter room. I chose a spot in my apartment beside a support beam and under a fortified arch, with no outside walls or windows. If a missile lands outside, shrapnel won’t reach me. If one comes through my upstairs neighbor’s roof, that is another story. Writing this down makes me more aware of the risks than I usually allow myself to be.

Daily life in two dimensions
My days swing between exhaustion and bursts of energy. I sleep well, wake refreshed, then crash into sudden fatigue. I research, write, craft, walk, talk with friends, and each activity drains me more than before Oct 7th. Outside, people shop, swim, eat ice cream, and sit in cafés as if everything is normal. I probably look normal too. But inside, it feels like living in two dimensions: the as‑if‑normal and the what‑the‑hell‑is‑going‑on. I have even started using my inhaler several times a day.

As I write, the IDF has killed terrorists in Judea‑Samaria and southern Lebanon. People in Beirut ran when Israeli planes broke the sound barrier. Hezbollah has launched “only” two missiles today. My daughter just called to say the kids are already sleeping at their other grandparents’ home because they have a mamad. The overt war has not begun, yet it feels like it could erupt at any moment.

Writing this has made me more aware of my stress. I am not sure if that is good or bad. Maybe I will put on a disaster movie or a serial‑killer show as background noise while I do some macramé. Or maybe I will take another nap first.


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