Illegal Poisonings Target Stray Animals in Heraklion

Bowls of water sit outside bakeries and shops in Heraklion all summer long. They are a small kindness, a cool offer to the dogs that linger in the heat. For cats, there is no such habit. They slip through alleys and under cars, taking whatever they can find. Lately, those scraps have been deadly.

People are finding sausages pierced with pellets, meat dusted with powder, and little piles of food left where an animal might sniff. A cat gone stiff on a doorstep. A dog convulsing beside the fish market. A neighbour’s pet that never comes home. Mojito, a local hound everyone knows by sight, once grabbed something off the pavement and fell violently ill. He survived. Too many do not.

This is not random cruelty. It is deliberate. And it is illegal. Greek law treats the deliberate poisoning of animals as a criminal act. The penalties can be severe, but in practice, the bite of the law is often weaker than the poison itself.

There is a new force meant to help. Earlier this year, Crete received its first Animal Police unit under the Hellenic Police, a team with a brief to enforce animal welfare laws. Argophilia reported their arrival. People hoped that would make a difference. The reality on the ground is mixed. Residents share stories of slow responses, where reports are only answered after someone on the street explains the situation in the local language. By then, it is often too late.

Why do people do this? Some call it pest control. Others claim fear of packs. Those excuses do not change the facts. Poison is not control. It is cruelty dressed up as convenience. Municipalities can and should manage stray populations with humane measures: neutering, shelters, feeding stations and adoption programs. Those are hard and slow work, but they are the only humane solutions. Tossing poison into the street is a shortcut that kills and that stains a community.

The consequences spread. When a dog or cat eats tainted food, children can be at risk if they touch the bait. Wild birds and curious animals peck at scraps and become secondary victims. The poison moves beyond a single act and contaminates a neighbourhood.

Owners live with a small, constant dread. Walks become exercises in scanning curbs. Commands like “fui, fui” are repeated so often that you can hear them in the rhythm of daily life. But instinct trumps instruction. One quick snatch and the damage is done. Parents worry because kids bend to pet a cat and might touch a lump of poisoned food. It is a danger you do not notice until it is already a loss.

So what must happen now? Enforcement has to be real, not symbolic. Reports of poisoned bait need rapid response. Investigations must be thorough. When perpetrators are found, courts need to impose penalties that discourage others. Municipal authorities must double down on humane stray management: trap, neuter, vaccinate, and shelter. Citizens must speak up and report suspicious activity. Silence is the ally of cruelty.

Heraklion prides itself on hospitality. Philoxenia is not just a tourist slogan. It is a habit of life. The sight of dead animals in the street undermines everything the city claims to be. Tourists do not care about tradition. They see a stray killed, and they see cruelty. Locals feel the betrayal more sharply because it happens in their own neighbourhoods.

This is a choice for the city. It can be the place that keeps its bowls full and its streets safe, or it can allow poison to become the easy answer to a hard problem. The law is on the side of protection. Now the practice must follow.