For months now, residents in eastern Thessaloniki have been living in a post-apocalyptic version of Mad Max. A 19-member gang of stray dogs has been terrorizing cats, startling pedestrians, and — in one case — chasing a 14-year-old girl who escaped only because a café owner ran out yelling louder than the dogs.
“My daughter hasn’t slept since,” said the girl’s mother. “Now she crosses the street like she’s in a horror movie.”
The gang, known locally as the Pack of Pylea, roams freely between Thessaloniki, Pylea-Chortiatis, and Kalamaria, treating municipal borders as mere suggestions.
The Pack That Outsmarted Three Municipalities
After dozens of complaints, the three municipalities decided to unite forces in a historic alliance called Operation Pack Pyleas.
According to Deputy Mayor Vasilis Diamantakis, the operation has been ongoing for three months, which in bureaucratic time equals roughly one dog per moon cycle.
So far, they’ve managed to capture nine out of nineteen canines using “carefully designed traps,” “strategic feeding,” and, presumably, a lot of optimism.
The Feeding Fence Strategy
Deputy Mayor for Animal Welfare Vivian Lioliou explained the brilliant tactic:
“We built a fenced area and feed them three times a day inside so they’ll trust us.”
In other words, it’s a cross between a sting operation and a petting zoo. The goal is to convince the dogs to arrest themselves gradually.
Once caught, the strays are sterilized, microchipped, vaccinated, and evaluated by a dog trainer. According to the law, they are then released in different areas.
Yes, you read that right. After three months of pursuit, six municipal salaries, and possibly a prayer circle, the dogs are returned to the wild — but separately, so they “lose their pack behavior.”
It is the Greek version of witness protection, except everyone still knows who they are.
The Great Divide-and-Conquer Plan
“When they are separated, they will no longer act like a pack,” said Lioliou confidently, as if stray dogs are waiting for emotional closure before calming down.
The goal is to break up the gang, one bowl of kibble at a time.
Meanwhile, locals have started collecting signatures demanding that “the municipalities do something.” However, since the municipalities are already taking action, mainly by feeding and naming the dogs, no one is quite sure what else could be done.
The Dog Days Continue
Officials assure citizens that none of the animals have bitten anyone — they chase, bark, and occasionally play tag with teenagers. But the fear remains.
Residents now plan their evening walks like tactical missions, checking corners for wagging tails. Café owners keep water bowls outside — not out of kindness, but as a diplomatic gesture.
One man summed it up perfectly:
“We used to have traffic problems. Now we have traffic… with teeth.”
When the dust settles — or rather, when the tails stop wagging — Operation Pack Pyleas may be remembered as the most Greek of all public campaigns: passionate, underfunded, and somehow heart-warming.
Because only in Greece could 19 stray dogs prompt three municipalities to form a coalition, build a fence, and claim it as progress.
Until then, Thessaloniki remains the city where the dogs rule the night — and the bureaucrats chase their tails.
