Fresh concerns have emerged over the welfare of dogs at Didim Municipality’s animal shelter after campaigners reported discovering numerous buried dogs on land behind the facility and filed a criminal complaint calling for a full investigation.

Animal welfare advocate İbrahim Kaya alleges that some of the buried dogs were still recorded as alive in Turkey’s PETVET database. If confirmed, the discrepancy would raise serious questions about record keeping, animal tracking and oversight within the municipal shelter system. At this stage, however, these remain allegations and have not been established by any official investigation.

Campaigners also report that two of the recovered dogs were found with ropes around their necks. They are calling for forensic veterinary examinations and necropsies to determine how the animals died and whether any offences under Turkey’s animal protection legislation have been committed.

The criminal complaint reportedly asks prosecutors to secure the burial site, identify the animals through their microchips where possible, examine treatment and admission records, review PETVET registrations and establish why animals allegedly recorded as alive were found buried. It also seeks to determine whether there is evidence of neglect, unlawful killing or other criminal offences.

One allegation receiving particular attention is the suggestion that animals may have remained listed as living within official records after their deaths. Some reports have speculated that this could have had financial implications for municipal funding. At present, however, there is no publicly available evidence that funding was improperly claimed, and this forms part of the allegations that investigators will need to examine.

For many animal welfare organisations, the case highlights the importance of transparency within municipal shelter systems. Accurate records, independent oversight and accountability are essential to maintaining public confidence and ensuring that dogs entering public facilities receive the protection they are entitled to under the law.

The allegations also come at a time of heightened concern over the treatment of free-roaming dogs in Turkey following legislative changes that have significantly increased the number of dogs being collected by municipalities. As more animals enter public shelters, campaigners have repeatedly warned that effective monitoring, proper veterinary care and transparent reporting are becoming increasingly important.

A criminal complaint has reportedly been submitted, and any conclusions about responsibility or wrongdoing will depend on the outcome of the official investigation.

Dog Desk Animal Action will continue to monitor developments and report any verified findings as they become available.

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A photograph from Nazilli, in Türkiye’s Aydın Province, has prompted widespread anger and renewed questions about the welfare of free roaming dogs during municipal collection operations.

The image, which has been widely shared by Turkish animal welfare organisations, shows municipal workers handling a dog roughly. Campaigners allege the dog was dragged in a way that caused unnecessary suffering before workers posed for photographs. The allegations have led to calls for a full criminal investigation and stronger accountability.

Following the public reaction, Nazilli Mayor Dr. Ertuğrul Tetik issued a public statement acknowledging the incident. He said the image “did not befit the institutional identity of Nazilli Municipality”, confirmed that an investigation had been launched and stated that “the responsible personnel have been given the necessary warnings.” He also apologised to the people of Nazilli and to animal lovers.

For many people, however, the response has left an uncomfortable question. If the allegations surrounding the photograph are accurate, is a warning an adequate response?

Animal welfare organisations believe the incident should be examined under Türkiye’s Animal Protection Law No. 5199 and have called for those responsible to be held fully accountable if animal welfare legislation has been breached.

The photograph also highlights something that receives far less attention than the number of dogs being collected.

Collecting frightened free roaming dogs is not straightforward. They may be frightened, injured or simply trying to escape an unfamiliar situation. That is precisely why the people carrying out these operations should receive thorough training in humane handling techniques, animal behaviour and the correct use of equipment. Their role is not simply to remove dogs from the streets. It is to do so in a way that protects their welfare from the first moment they come into contact with them.

Across Türkiye, municipalities are under increasing pressure to collect free roaming dogs following changes to national legislation. As those programmes expand, proper training and oversight become even more important. Every municipality should be able to demonstrate that staff understand how to minimise fear, avoid unnecessary suffering and respond appropriately when an animal is distressed.

Whether this particular incident was the result of inadequate training, poor judgement or something more serious is now a matter for the investigation. That investigation should establish exactly what happened and whether any laws were broken.

At Dog Desk Animal Action, we remain firmly opposed to healthy free roaming dogs being removed from their communities only to be placed in inadequate shelters where their welfare cannot be guaranteed. If municipalities choose to carry out collection operations, every dog must be handled humanely by properly trained staff using appropriate methods.

The photograph from Nazilli has disturbed many people because it shows a dog in obvious distress. If that distress resulted from the actions of those entrusted with its care, then the public deserves more than reassurance that warnings have been issued. They deserve to know that standards are being enforced, that staff are properly trained and that every reasonable step is being taken to ensure incidents like this do not happen again.

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For almost a year we have watched municipalities across Türkiye celebrate the number of dogs they have removed from the streets. Hundreds, thousands. Sometimes tens of thousands.

Every announcement is accompanied by promises of protection, rehabilitation and care. Yet there is one question that grows louder with every collection campaign.

Where are the dogs?

That question is now at the centre of serious allegations surrounding the Aydın Metropolitan Municipality Street Animal Protection and Rehabilitation Centre, where campaigners claim thousands of collected dogs cannot be accounted for. Animal rights advocate İbrahim Kaya has called for an independent investigation after alleging that dogs were injected before being loaded into vehicles, that animals were taken into a building believed by campaigners to contain a morgue, and that those seeking answers were denied access to the facility.

Our concern, however, goes far beyond one newspaper report.

Dog Desk Animal Action has worked with community carers in Aydın whose dogs have been collected. These were not anonymous animals. They were dogs that had names, routines and people who looked after them every single day. After they were taken, those carers searched for them at the municipal shelter. They were not there.

That fact alone does not tell us what happened to those dogs, but it does reinforce exactly the same question that campaigners are now asking publicly. If they are no longer on the streets, and they are not in the shelter, where are they?

This is precisely why we have consistently opposed the removal of free roaming dogs from the communities they know. Once a dog disappears behind the gates of a municipal facility, transparency becomes everything. Without complete records, the public is simply expected to trust that every animal is safe, and trust on its own is not enough when thousands of lives are involved.

The figures being reported simply do not appear to match what people are seeing. Since the amended law came into force, municipalities across Türkiye have announced the removal of enormous numbers of dogs from public spaces. In Aydın, campaigners argue that when the collections carried out by the metropolitan municipality and all seventeen district municipalities are taken together, the shelter should now be housing many thousands of animals. Instead, they believe only around one thousand dogs remain there.

If those estimates are anywhere close to being accurate, then the public deserves an explanation.

Every dog collected should be traceable from the moment it leaves the street until the end of its life. There should be records showing when it entered the shelter, where it was housed, what veterinary treatment it received and what ultimately happened to it. If it was transferred, there should be documentation showing where it went. If it was reclaimed, there should be evidence of that. If it died, there should be veterinary records explaining why. This is not an unreasonable expectation. It is the minimum standard of accountability that should exist whenever public authorities assume responsibility for thousands of living animals.

Instead, what we continue to see across Türkiye is an overwhelming focus on collection statistics while remarkably little is said about outcomes. Municipalities proudly announce how many dogs have been removed, yet the public is rarely told how many remain alive in their care, how many have died, how many have been transferred or where those animals are today.

That lack of transparency inevitably creates suspicion, and it is not confined to Aydın. We hear the same concerns repeatedly from different provinces. Community dogs disappear overnight. Local people search shelters without finding the animals they have cared for, sometimes for years. The official collection figures continue to rise, but the visible shelter populations do not always appear to reflect those numbers.

The allegations made in Aydın deserve a thorough and independent investigation, and they should be tested against the evidence. If they are unfounded, that should be demonstrated openly. If they are substantiated, those responsible must be held to account. In either case, the solution is exactly the same, complete transparency.

Until municipalities can account for every dog they have removed from the streets, the question will continue to grow louder.

The streets are becoming emptier, the shelters are not becoming fuller.

So where have the dogs gone?

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The removal of free roaming dogs from Turkey’s streets is no longer confined to a handful of provinces. Reports from İzmir suggest the programme is continuing to spread, with dogs now being collected from another of the country’s major cities as pressure grows on municipalities to comply with government expectations.

According to local reporting, municipal teams have been carrying out dog collection operations in districts including Bornova and Çiğli. Residents have shared videos online showing dogs being removed during the early hours of the morning and at night, prompting concern among local animal advocates who say the collections are becoming increasingly difficult for the public to witness or challenge.

Representatives animal welfre organisations in İzmir claim municipalities are acting under instructions passed through the Governor’s Office following calls for free roaming dogs to be removed from the streets before the end of the year. While those claims have not been independently verified, they reflect concerns that have been voiced repeatedly across Turkey over recent months as the country’s new approach to free roaming dogs continues to unfold.

Perhaps the most pressing question is not whether municipalities are collecting dogs, but where those dogs are supposed to go.

Across Turkey, local authorities have repeatedly acknowledged that shelter capacity is limited. New facilities take time to build, existing shelters are already under pressure and many municipalities simply do not have the space required to accommodate large numbers of healthy free roaming dogs. Every announcement of another collection programme therefore raises the same concern. If thousands of dogs are removed from their communities, where will they all be housed, who will care for them and what happens when the available space runs out?

Those are not theoretical questions. They are questions that should have been answered before large scale removals began.

Videos from İzmir show dogs being tranquillised before they are removed from their communities. The scenes have intensified concern among animal welfare organisations and local residents, who fear not only the methods being used to capture free roaming dogs but also the conditions awaiting them once they enter municipal shelters. For Dog Desk Animal Action, the overriding concern is that no dog should be removed from its community only to face poorer welfare in overcrowded, under resourced facilities.

For years, Turkey’s free roaming dogs have been part of the country’s towns and cities. They have been cared for by residents, monitored by volunteers and, in many areas, managed through sterilisation and vaccination programmes. The current policy marks a profound change in that relationship, replacing community based management with widespread removal.

İzmir now joins a growing list of cities where free roaming dogs are reportedly being taken from the streets. Ankara, Afyonkarahisar and other provinces have already featured in our reporting as collections accelerated following the implementation of the new law. Each new city reinforces the sense that this is not a series of isolated municipal decisions but part of a broader national programme.

Dog Desk Animal Action’s primary concern is the welfare of every dog that is removed from its community. Collecting dogs without suitable accommodation, sufficient veterinary provision, trained staff and long term welfare plans risks replacing life on the street with life in overcrowded facilities where welfare may be significantly compromised.

Every municipality carrying out collections should be able to answer some straightforward questions. How many dogs can its facilities accommodate? How many are already there? What standards of care are being maintained? What veterinary support is available? And how will each dog’s welfare be protected for however long it remains in municipal care?

Removing a dog from its community should never result in poorer welfare. If collection is to take place, it must be supported by transparency, adequate resources and facilities capable of providing a good quality of life. Without those safeguards, there is a real risk that dogs are moved into conditions that leave them worse off than before.

As more reports emerge from across Turkey, the same questions will continue to follow every collection vehicle. How many dogs are being removed? Where are they being taken? What capacity exists to care for them? And what does their future look like once the gates close behind them? Until those questions can be answered openly and transparently, concern will continue to grow with every new city added to the list.

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Every so often an official announcement contains a figure that is so large it almost loses its meaning. We read it, acknowledge it and move on, but sometimes it is worth stopping for a moment and asking ourselves what that number actually represents.

This week, the Governor of Afyonkarahisar announced that 17,580 free roaming dogs have been collected across the province since the programme began. He added that 5,575 of those dogs were collected during 2026 alone and that the province currently has four municipal shelters.

Those three figures belong together because one cannot be understood without the others.

Seventeen thousand five hundred and eighty dogs is a huge number for a single province. It is not a statistic that can be explained away as a handful of collections taking place over a few months. It represents an operation of remarkable scale, one that has required dogs to be located across towns, villages and rural communities before being captured, transported and brought into the municipal system.

At the same time, the governor speaks of four municipal shelters.

That immediately changes the way we look at the announcement. Rather than focusing solely on the number of dogs collected, attention naturally turns to the practical reality of what must have followed. Every one of those dogs had to go somewhere. Every one had to enter a facility, be recorded, receive food and water and occupy space within a system that, according to the governor’s own statement, consists of four municipal shelters.

The announcement does not tell us how many kennels those shelters contain or how many dogs they can accommodate at any one time. It does not explain how many dogs have remained in the shelters, how many have been transferred, how many have been adopted or how many have left the system for other reasons. Those details are absent, yet they become impossible to ignore once the scale of the collection programme is understood.

It is difficult to picture 17,580 dogs. We instinctively reduce large numbers into something abstract because our minds struggle to visualise them. Yet these were not numbers. They were individual animals collected from streets, industrial estates, villages, parks and neighbourhoods across the province. Each one had to be transported. Each one had to pass through the doors of the municipal system. Each one required care, however briefly or however long they remained there.

The governor’s statement also tells us that more than five thousand dogs have been collected during this year alone. That suggests the operation is continuing at a significant pace rather than slowing as time passes. It is another reminder that this is not simply a historical programme being summarised at the end of its life. It is an active one.

There is no dispute about the figures. They come directly from the governor’s announcement. What they leave behind are questions about scale and capacity. How does a province process almost eighteen thousand dogs through four municipal shelters? What level of infrastructure is required to sustain an operation of that size? How many people are involved, how many vehicles are deployed and how much space is needed to receive such an extraordinary number of animals?

These are not political questions. They are practical ones.

As more provinces publish their own collection totals, each announcement adds another piece to a much larger picture. On its own, the number 17,580 huge When it is read alongside the statement that the province has four municipal shelters, it becomes something more. It becomes a reminder that behind every large statistic lies an equally large logistical operation, one involving thousands upon thousands of living animals whose journeys did not end when they were collected from the streets.

What happened to them?

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Turkish authorities are continuing to present the implementation of the country’s stray dog law as a programme moving steadily towards nationwide completion.

A recent opinion article published in a Turkish newspaper cites information that the author says was provided by the Ministry of Interior. According to the article, officials claim that 65 of Turkey’s 81 provinces are now close to completing the collection of dogs that have been officially reported as stray. While these figures have not been independently verified, they provide further insight into how the government is presenting progress under the legislation.

The article states that approximately one million officially reported stray dogs have now been collected. It also acknowledges a significant discrepancy between government reporting systems and previous estimates of Turkey’s free roaming dog population. While the World Health Organization has previously estimated there may be around 3.5 million free-roaming dogs in Turkey, the article says only around 1.5 million dogs have been officially registered through government reporting systems. The author questions what accounts for the difference and suggests the authorities should provide further explanation.

Alongside the collection figures, the article claims that Turkey’s shelter capacity is continuing to expand. It says the country had 322 animal shelters before the current legislation came into force and that this number is expected to rise to approximately 850 by the end of the year. It also reports that the Ministry of Interior has begun producing around 30 tonnes of dog food each day using surplus food collected from supermarkets, bakeries and other businesses to help feed impounded dogs and reduce operating costs.

The commentary also discusses enforcement of the law, claiming that municipalities which have failed to implement the legislation are being investigated by the Ministry of Interior, regardless of their political affiliation. The article argues that some local authorities delayed implementation but suggests the government is now seeking more consistent nationwide enforcement.

Although the publication is not an independent source and the figures contained within the article should not be regarded as independently verified, reports such as this remain important for organisations monitoring developments in Turkey. They provide an indication of the information being communicated through channels that closely reflect the government’s position and can help identify emerging trends in policy implementation.

Taken together with recent official announcements, including claims that all 52,000 identified stray dogs in Ankara have now been collected, the latest commentary reinforces the impression that the Turkish authorities intend to continue implementing the law at pace. Whether the reported figures accurately reflect conditions on the ground remains difficult to verify independently, but there is little indication that the government’s approach is changing.

Dog Desk Animal Action will continue to monitor official statements, media reporting and information from organisations working on the ground as the implementation of the legislation continues across Turkey.

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There are some stories that leave you heartbroken. Others leave you angry. Then there are the stories that leave you emotionally exhausted because they are no longer isolated tragedies. They are part of a pattern you have been watching unfold for so long that every new name feels painfully familiar. That is how I felt when I read about Tosun.

According to the people who knew him, Tosun had lived in the same neighbourhood for years. He wasn’t a dog wandering through life unnoticed or unwanted. He was a community dog in the truest sense of the word. People knew his name, cared for him and looked out for him. He already had what every dog deserves, a place where he belonged and a community that loved him. When he was reported to the municipality and taken away, those people didn’t abandon him or assume somebody else would deal with it. They went to find him, determined to bring him home. He was in Üsküdar Municipality Hekimbaşı Shelter Turkey.

What happened next is almost impossible to comprehend. They found Tosun in the municipal shelter, frightened and desperate to leave the open enclosure he was in with dogs he did not know and immediately began the process of taking him home. They completed the paperwork, accepted responsibility for him and believed they would soon be walking back out through the gates together. Instead, according to their account, they were told they couldn’t take him because nobody was available to authorise his release. They would have to come back.

By the time they returned, Tosun was dead.

I have replayed that sequence of events in my mind more times than I care to admit because I cannot make it make sense. Here was a dog who wasn’t forgotten, who wasn’t abandoned and who wasn’t sitting in that shelter waiting for somebody to notice him. The people who loved him were already there. They had found him. They wanted him. They had done everything they had been asked to do. The only thing standing between Tosun and home was bureaucracy.

The explanation reportedly given to the people who loved him was that his heart couldn’t take it and that it was probably a heart attack. That word, probably, has stayed with me ever since I read it because it raises more questions than it answers. What happened to Tosun? Was he examined? Was a post-mortem carried out? If so, what did it find? If not, why not? When a much loved dog dies in a municipal shelter after people have already come to take him home, surely his community deserves more than uncertainty.

Perhaps what has affected me most is that I know Tosun is not alone. For almost two years I have documented the implementation of Türkiye’s street dog law. Every day I read another report, another municipal announcement, another story of dogs being removed from the places they have called home for years. I have watched the collection figures climb higher and higher while questions about what happens after those dogs disappear behind shelter gates receive far less attention. We now know that around 149,000 dogs have reportedly died in municipal shelters from what have been described as natural causes. One hundred and forty nine thousand. I have reached the point where I no longer read that figure as a statistic. I read it as 149,000 individual lives.

I am exhausted by it. I am frustrated by it. I am angry that communities are repeatedly being asked to trust a system while stories like Tosun’s continue to emerge. I am angry that so much of the public conversation revolves around how many dogs have been collected rather than what became of them afterwards. Collecting a dog is not an outcome. It is the beginning of a responsibility, and that responsibility does not end when the shelter gates close.

Tosun should never have become another name on a list of dogs who never made it home. His story should have ended with the people who loved him walking back through those gates with him by their side. Instead, they returned to collect a dog they would never see alive again, and they were left with questions instead of answers.

I refuse to believe that this is something we should simply accept. Tosun deserved better, just as every one of those 149,000 dogs deserved better. They deserve more than being reduced to statistics in municipal reports, more than vague explanations and more than a world that grows a little more accustomed to these stories every time another one appears.

Tosun’s life mattered. His community knew that. The people who went to bring him home knew that. The rest of us should know it too, because if we can read his story without feeling grief, anger and an overwhelming sense that something has gone terribly wrong, then we have started to lose something of our own humanity.

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When footage emerged from Erzincan Municipality in February 2025, it shocked animal lovers across Türkiye.

Videos circulating on social media showed municipal workers disposing of dogs in a burial pit. In one clip, a dog destined for the pit runs away. In another, a dog appears to escape from the pit itself. The footage prompted widespread allegations that some animals had been buried alive.

Now, more than a year later, the legal outcome has taken an unexpected turn.

The municipality will not face prosecution. Instead, one of the men who helped bring the allegations to public attention, animal rights advocate İbrahim Kaya, now faces criminal proceedings alongside former municipal worker Erdal Gezeroğlu, who says he filmed the events after hearing dogs while working at the municipal waste facility.

The Municipality’s Response

Initially, Erzincan Municipality reportedly denied that the footage related to its operations.

Days later, however, the municipality announced that it had launched administrative and legal proceedings, suspending its Veterinary Affairs Director and other relevant personnel while an investigation was carried out. The municipality stated that the process would be conducted transparently.

Further footage subsequently emerged appearing to show dogs being dragged and thrown into municipal vehicles, alongside claims that dogs were being killed within the shelter.

The videos themselves cannot establish how the animals died. Nevertheless, the apparent number of dead dogs and the presence of animals apparently capable of movement prompted widespread concern among veterinarians, animal welfare organisations and members of the public.

The Investigation

The criminal investigation ultimately concluded with a decision not to prosecute the municipality.

According to reports, prosecutors relied on an examination of an exhumed dog and concluded there was insufficient evidence to establish that animals had been buried alive, poisoned or deliberately killed.

That decision does not amount to a judicial finding that the allegations were false. Rather, it reflects the prosecutor’s conclusion that the available evidence did not meet the threshold required to bring criminal charges.

The Legal Focus Shifts

Attention has now shifted away from the municipality and towards those who exposed the allegations.

İbrahim Kaya and former municipal employee Erdal Gezeroğlu are now due to stand trial on allegations relating to their public dissemination of the claims.

The development has prompted concern among animal welfare advocates, who argue that the case risks shifting attention away from the underlying questions raised by the original footage.

Questions That Remain

More than a year after the videos first emerged, important questions remain unanswered. How did dogs apparently capable of movement come to be transported alongside deceased animals?

What records exist for the dogs shown in the videos? How many animals were involved?

What conclusions were reached by the municipality’s own internal investigation after staff were suspended?

What is beyond dispute is that the footage prompted one of the most controversial municipal animal welfare investigations in Türkiye following the introduction of the country’s revised street dog law, and that the legal proceedings are now focused not on the municipality itself, but on two of the people who helped bring the allegations into public view.

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One of the clearest public expressions of moral opposition to euthanasia by a serving Turkish mayor has emerged during a meeting of Bornova Municipal Council, where Mayor Ömer Eşki said he could not authorise the killing of free roaming dogs, telling councillors: “Uyutma yapamam. O günaha giremem.” “I cannot carry out euthanasia. I cannot commit that sin.”

The comments were made during a debate on Bornova Municipality’s implementation of Türkiye’s revised street dog law, which has fundamentally changed the country’s approach to free roaming dogs and placed municipalities under increasing pressure to remove dogs from the streets while expanding shelter capacity.

Speaking during the council meeting, Eşki outlined the scale of the challenge facing Bornova. He said the district is home to an estimated 2,300 free roaming animals, while the municipality’s existing shelter, built for around 200 dogs, is currently caring for approximately 290. Plans to expand the facility to accommodate more than 1,000 animals have been delayed after the municipality encountered difficulties relating to access across neighbouring military land, forcing officials to explore alternative options.

The mayor also argued that the issue cannot be solved by one municipality acting in isolation. As he described the practical realities of implementing the legislation, he turned to what he believed was the direction in which the process ultimately leads.

“Bunun nihayetinde... götürülmek istendiği yer uyutma. Onu da ben yapamam. O günaha giremem.”

Translated into English, he said:

“Ultimately, where this is being taken is euthanasia. I cannot do that. I cannot commit that sin.”

The statement is significant not simply because of the language used, but because it comes from a serving mayor responsible for implementing one of the most controversial pieces of animal welfare legislation in modern Türkiye. Rather than presenting euthanasia as an administrative tool or a practical necessity, Eşki framed it as a moral boundary he was unwilling to cross.

His comments also highlight the differing approaches emerging across the country as municipalities attempt to comply with the amended law. While large scale collection operations have accelerated in many provinces, implementation has not been uniform. Local authorities continue to face very different realities in terms of shelter capacity, available land, funding and operational capability, while elected officials have expressed contrasting views on how the legislation should be implemented.

For Dog Desk Animal Action, the significance of the Bornova debate extends well beyond a single municipality.

Over recent months we have documented large scale collection operations, growing concerns over shelter capacity, official implementation deadlines, administrative investigations following dog attacks and continuing questions surrounding the fate of thousands of collected dogs. Against that backdrop, a serving mayor publicly stating that he cannot authorise euthanasia because he considers it a sin provides a rare insight into the ethical tensions now being expressed within municipal government itself.

Whether Bornova ultimately succeeds in expanding its shelter capacity remains to be seen. What is already clear, however, is that the debate surrounding Türkiye’s street dog law has moved beyond campaigners and animal welfare organisations. It is now unfolding inside council chambers across the country, where the officials responsible for implementing the legislation are themselves grappling with its consequences.

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The Governor of Ankara has announced that all 52,000 identified free roaming dogs recorded during the province’s 2024 survey have now been collected, adding that search and collection operations will continue to identify any remaining animals that were not included in the original census. It is a noteworthy figure, not simply because of its scale, but because every one of those 52,000 represents an individual dog that was once living on the streets of Ankara and has since entered a municipal system about which relatively little is publicly known.

For many people, the announcement will naturally focus attention on the size of the collection programme. Our attention, however, is drawn to a different question. Once those dogs were collected, what happened to them?

Collection statistics tell us how many animals entered municipal care, but they tell us very little about what happened afterwards. They do not explain how many dogs remain alive, how many were reunited with owners, how many were adopted, how many were transferred between facilities or how many died while in municipal care. Without that information, it is impossible to properly understand the welfare outcomes of a programme operating on this scale.

As we began examining that question, we found that it had already been raised months before the Governor’s latest announcement. During a meeting of the Turkish Grand National Assembly’s Agriculture, Forestry and Rural Affairs Commission, a member referred to Ankara Municipality figures reporting approximately 41,000 collected animals and around 17,900 recorded as natural deaths, using those figures to question what had happened to dogs following collection. The discussion then widened to the national implementation of Türkiye’s amended Animal Protection Law, during which members sought information about deaths recorded after the legislation came into force. In response, Ministry of Interior adviser Ahmet Yavuz Karaca explained that he did not have the death totals with him, stating that they held mortality rates rather than the figures being requested.

Those exchanges are significant because they demonstrate that questions about outcomes were already being raised at parliamentary level while the collection programme was still expanding. Since then, Dog Desk Animal Action has continued examining publicly available material relating to Ankara’s programme and has identified repeated references by Turkish animal welfare organisations to a Provincial Monitoring and Inspection Report dated 1 May 2026, which they say was presented to the Ankara Provincial Animal Protection Board. Those organisations have consistently attributed further outcome figures to that report, including updated collection and mortality statistics. Despite extensive research, however, we have not yet been able to obtain the report itself or independently examine the underlying records from which those figures were reportedly drawn.

That distinction is important because our aim is not to speculate or to repeat claims that cannot be verified. The Governor’s announcement that 52,000 identified dogs have now been collected is an official statement. The parliamentary commission transcript is an official public record. References to the Provincial Monitoring and Inspection Report have now appeared consistently across multiple Turkish organisations, but until that document becomes publicly available there remain limits to what can be independently confirmed.

None of that changes the central question. If 52,000 dogs have now entered Ankara’s municipal system, then understanding what happened after collection is just as important as knowing how many were collected in the first place. Every one of those dogs had an outcome. Some may still be in municipal care, some may have been reunited with owners, some may have been adopted or transferred, and others may have died. A programme involving tens of thousands of animals cannot be meaningfully assessed through collection figures alone because collection is only the beginning of each dog’s journey through the system.

Requesting that information should not be regarded as political or controversial. Public confidence in any large scale animal management programme depends upon transparency, and transparency requires more than headline collection figures. It requires clear, accessible reporting that allows the public to understand what happened to the animals after they entered municipal care, how outcomes were recorded and whether the welfare objectives of the programme were achieved.

The Governor’s announcement has answered one important question by confirming the scale of Ankara’s collection programme. The next question is every bit as important, because behind every one of those 52,000 figures was an individual dog, and every one of those dogs deserves to be accounted for. Until those outcomes are understood, the story of Ankara’s collection programme remains incomplete.

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When Türkiye amended its Animal Protection Law in 2024, much of the international debate focused on what the changes would mean for free roaming dogs. The headlines centred on collection, shelters and euthanasia, while campaigners argued over the likely consequences for animal welfare. Less attention was paid to another question that may prove just as significant. The law did not simply change how street dogs would be managed. It fundamentally changed who could be held responsible for them.

That question has become impossible to ignore following the Interior Ministry’s decision to authorise investigations into the mayors of Köyceğiz and Narman and to launch a preliminary investigation into the mayor of Hilvan. In two of the cases, the investigations follow attacks on children. In the third, the allegation concerns a municipality’s failure to establish the shelter required under the amended law.

For decades, free roaming dogs occupied a unique place within Turkish society. They were not treated as wildlife, but neither were they regarded as owned animals for which an individual person could be held responsible. They lived alongside communities, were fed by residents, sterilised by municipalities under the previous legal framework and, after treatment, were returned to the streets. Whether people agreed with that system or not, it accepted one fundamental principle. Street dogs would continue to exist in public spaces.

That legal principle has now changed.

Under the amended law, municipalities are responsible for collecting free roaming dogs and placing them in shelters rather than returning them to the streets. That much is clear. What is less widely understood is that the law also recognises that municipalities require time to build the infrastructure needed to achieve that objective. The legislation provides a transitional period, giving municipalities until the end of 2028 to establish or improve shelters and allocate the necessary resources.

This is where the legal position becomes particularly interesting.

Although the law creates the new duties, it does not state that every dog in Türkiye must be collected immediately. The instruction that municipalities could not wait until 2028 before beginning collection came later through ministerial implementation directives. Those directives made it clear that local authorities were expected to begin collecting dogs without delay and should not rely on the transitional period as a reason for postponing action.

That distinction may appear technical, but it is important because legislation and ministerial directives are not the same thing. Parliament established the legal framework and the transitional arrangements. The executive then set out how it expected that framework to be implemented in practice.

The recent investigations suggest that the government now considers municipalities to be directly accountable for the consequences of failing to fulfil those duties. In Narman, the Interior Ministry alleges that the municipality failed to collect free roaming dogs within its area of responsibility before a ten year old boy suffered life changing injuries. In Köyceğiz, investigators cited not only the serious attack on an eleven year old child but also wider concerns relating to shelter capacity, veterinary services and repeated dog attacks over a two year period. In Hilvan, the issue is different again, focusing on the alleged failure to establish the shelter required under the legislation.

Taken together, these cases raise a much broader question than whether three individual mayors complied with the law. They suggest that Türkiye has redefined the relationship between municipalities and free roaming dogs. Animals that for decades existed as part of the urban landscape have become the direct legal responsibility of local government, with mayors now facing personal investigation where the state believes those responsibilities have not been met.

Whether that represents good public policy is a matter on which opinions will differ. What cannot be disputed is that it marks a profound change in legal responsibility. If municipalities are now expected to prevent the presence of free roaming dogs on the streets, then responsibility for incidents involving those dogs has shifted in a way that would have been difficult to imagine under the previous legal framework.

These investigations may therefore come to be remembered not because three mayors found themselves under scrutiny, but because they demonstrate how the amended law is now being enforced. The legislation has moved beyond theory and into practice, and with that shift comes a new legal reality in which the actions, or inaction, of municipal authorities may carry personal consequences.

As Türkiye continues to implement one of the most significant changes to its animal protection legislation in decades, understanding that shift in responsibility may prove just as important as understanding the law itself. The fate of the country’s free roaming dogs will not be determined by legislation alone. It will also be shaped by how that legislation is interpreted, enforced and applied in municipalities across the country.

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A statement published by AK Party Deputy Chairperson Mustafa Çiftci has provided one of the clearest official updates yet on the implementation of Turkey’s street dog collection programme.

Following a consultation and evaluation meeting involving senior AK Party figures, including Group Deputy Chairperson Özlem Zengin and National Defence Committee Chairperson Hulusi Akar, Çiftci stated that street animals have been collected in full across 51 provinces and that collections have reached 83 percent nationwide.

The statement also provided collection figures for metropolitan municipalities, where the reported average collection rate stands at 74 percent.

According to the figures released, collection operations have reportedly been completed in Erzurum, Mardin, Manisa, Mersin, Şanlıurfa, Kayseri, Sakarya, Denizli, Konya, Balıkesir, Gaziantep and Kahramanmaraş.

The statement further claims that collection rates have reached 99 percent in Ankara, 91 percent in Van and Malatya, 89 percent in Muğla, 87 percent in Tekirdağ, 82 percent in Samsun, 80 percent in Trabzon, 76 percent in Hatay, 71 percent in Kocaeli, 68 percent in Antalya, 64 percent in Adana, 59 percent in Eskişehir, 58 percent in Bursa, 49 percent in Istanbul, 47 percent in Aydın, 38 percent in Ordu, 35 percent in İzmir and 27 percent in Diyarbakır.

Perhaps the most significant part of the statement was not the percentages themselves but the objective that accompanied them.

Çiftci stated that the government’s goal is for all street animals to be taken into care homes and natural habitats by the end of the year, describing this as part of an effort to establish a permanent system that protects both public safety and animal welfare.

For observers outside Turkey, the figures will likely come as a surprise. Much of the international discussion surrounding the law has focused on individual incidents, local disputes and reports from particular municipalities. The statement suggests that, from the government’s perspective, the collection programme is already well advanced across large parts of the country.

At the same time, the figures raise a number of important questions.

The statement does not explain how collection percentages are calculated, what baseline population estimates are being used or how many animals the reported percentages represent in absolute terms. Nor does it provide a breakdown showing how many collected animals are housed in municipal shelters compared with the natural habitats referenced in the statement.

Those questions are important because the scale of the programme is unprecedented. If collection rates are indeed approaching the levels claimed, then large numbers of dogs have already been removed from the streets. Understanding where those animals are now, how they are being cared for and what long-term arrangements exist for them becomes increasingly important.

For organisations working directly with dogs in Turkey, the statement is also notable because it provides a clearer indication of the government’s expectations for the months ahead. The objective remains the same as it was when the law was introduced: the removal of street dogs from public spaces and their transfer into managed facilities.

Whether the reported figures accurately reflect conditions on the ground is likely to remain the subject of debate. What is not in dispute is that the collection programme continues and that the government is signalling its intention to press ahead.

For those monitoring the future of Turkey’s street dogs, this is one of the most significant official updates released in recent months. The figures themselves will attract attention, but the broader message may be even more important. The government is presenting the collection programme not as a future objective, but as a process that is already approaching completion in much of the country.

A story from İzmir this week offered a glimpse of a different relationship between people and street dogs at a time when that relationship is under intense pressure across Turkey.

Bal, an abandoned dog, began visiting a disability services centre operated by the İzmir Metropolitan Municipality. Staff members fed him, provided water and gradually welcomed him into daily life at the centre. Over time, he became a familiar presence for employees, visitors and service users, eventually becoming so integrated into the life of the facility that he is now regarded as part of the team.

Under normal circumstances, this might simply be viewed as a heart warming local news story. What makes it particularly significant is that it is taking place while municipalities across Turkey continue collecting dogs from the streets as part of efforts to implement the country’s new animal law.

Much of the discussion surrounding the law focuses on numbers, facilities, budgets, capacity and enforcement. Those are important issues, but stories such as Bal’s highlight something that can easily be overlooked. Street dogs are not simply animals occupying public spaces. In many cases, they are also part of the communities around them and have relationships with the people they encounter every day.

The reports from İzmir describe Bal as a source of comfort and companionship within the centre. Staff say he spends time with visitors, helps create a welcoming atmosphere and has become particularly popular with children and people using the facility’s services. His presence is valued not because he performs a formal role but because he contributes something positive to the environment around him.

That idea will be familiar to many people who have lived alongside community animals. Across Turkey, dogs and cats have long become part of neighbourhood life. Some are known by name, some are cared for collectively by local residents and others become such familiar faces that people struggle to imagine the area without them. These animals often occupy a unique space between ownership and independence, living within communities while forming genuine connections with the people around them.

At Dog Desk Animal Action, Bal’s story immediately brought another animal to mind. Marmaduke, a cat who has made the local town hall his workplace, has become a familiar figure to both staff and visitors. Nobody formally appointed him to the position, yet he has nevertheless established himself as an accepted part of daily life within the building. People look for him when they arrive, ask after him when he is absent and greet him as though he were another member of staff.

The reason stories like Bal’s and Marmaduke’s resonate is that they remind us of something often missing from policy discussions. Animals are frequently discussed as a challenge to be managed, a population to be controlled or a problem to be solved, yet they are also capable of enriching the communities around them in ways that are difficult to quantify. They provide companionship, create social connections and often become part of the identity of the places where they live.

None of this means every dog can safely remain where it is or that every situation allows for this kind of relationship. Welfare, public safety and individual circumstances will always matter. Even so, Bal’s story demonstrates that when people look beyond the label of stray dog, they sometimes discover an animal capable of becoming something more than a statistic or a policy issue.

At a time when dogs are being removed from communities across Turkey, Bal’s story offers a reminder of what can be lost when animals disappear from public life. An abandoned dog arrived at a municipal facility looking for food, water and somewhere safe to spend his time. Instead of being viewed solely as a problem to be addressed, he was welcomed into a community and became part of it.

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NATO leaders are coming to Ankara & municipalities have been instructed to collect free-roaming dogs from roads, airports, hotels and other locations connected to the summit.

Animal welfare organisations have long argued that street dogs should be treated as living beings deserving of protection and respect, not as an embarrassment to be hidden when influential visitors arrive. Yet the reports emerging from Ankara risk creating exactly that impression. The animals are not being discussed because of their welfare needs, but because of where they are located and who might see them.

Street dogs are not rubbish to be cleared away before guests arrive. They are not street furniture that can be relocated for the convenience of a political event. They are living animals whose lives matter regardless of whether international delegations happen to be passing through the area.

What makes these reports particularly disturbing is the message they send. The presence of free-roaming dogs appears to have become a greater concern precisely because the world’s attention is turning towards Ankara. Instead of prompting a discussion about long-term solutions, welfare standards or responsible population management, the focus appears to be on removing the animals from highly visible locations before the summit begins.

Animal welfare advocates fear that this risks treating the dogs as an image problem rather than a welfare responsibility.

If dogs are being removed from areas connected to the summit, the public deserves complete transparency about where they are going, how they will be cared for and what safeguards are in place to protect their welfare. These are not unreasonable questions. They are the minimum level of accountability that should accompany any operation involving living animals.

The NATO Summit will last only a matter of days. The decisions taken in preparation for it may have consequences that last far longer. Long after the motorcades have departed and the delegates have returned home, the question will remain whether Ankara’s street dogs were treated as living beings deserving of protection and respect or simply as something that needed to be removed from sight before the world’s cameras arrived.

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Turkey’s stray dog crisis has become one of the most contentious public policy issues in the country. Supporters of the government’s approach point to dog attacks, public safety concerns and the need for municipalities to regain control of streets and public spaces. Animal welfare organisations warn of overcrowded shelters, inadequate infrastructure and the risk of large scale suffering hidden from public view.

Reasonable people can disagree about the best way forward. What should not be controversial, however, is the importance of consulting all relevant stakeholders when shaping and implementing policy of this magnitude.

That is why the recent meeting between Interior Minister Mustafa Çiftçi and GÜSODER has attracted attention.

The meeting was publicly promoted by the ministry. Photographs were released. Statements were shared. The organisation was thanked for its contributions to discussions surrounding the management of stray animals. The meeting demonstrated that GÜSODER was afforded direct access to senior government decision-makers regarding implementation of the policy. No democratic society should object to that. Public safety groups have every right to participate in discussions about public policy.

Since the implementation of Law 7527, animal welfare organisations, veterinarians, academics and volunteers have repeatedly raised concerns about both the law itself and the practical realities of carrying it out. Questions have been asked about shelter capacity, disease control, transparency, long term population management and animal welfare standards.

Yet despite extensive searching of publicly available records, it is difficult to identify equivalent high profile meetings between senior government figures and major animal welfare organisations such as HAYTAP or DIHFED concerning implementation of the policy. If such consultations have occurred, they have not received the same public visibility.

This is important because the issue extends far beyond a simple disagreement between people who care about animals and people who care about public safety.

The reality is that solving a complex national problem requires expertise from many different sectors. Veterinary organisations understand disease control, animal behaviour and population management. Veterinary faculties contribute research and evidence based solutions. Shelter operators understand the challenges of capacity, staffing and long term care. Animal law specialists can assess the legal implications of policy decisions. Volunteers and welfare organisations possess years of practical experience working with street animals and local communities.

Public safety advocates bring equally important perspectives regarding attacks, public concerns and community wellbeing.

Each group sees a different part of the picture. Good policy emerges when all of those perspectives are brought together.

Several critics of the current approach have therefore focused less on the policy itself and more on the consultation process behind it. Sustainable solutions should be developed alongside veterinary professional bodies, veterinary faculties, animal rights centres, non governmental organisations and volunteers. The point was not that one side should dominate the discussion, but that effective policy requires a broad range of expertise.

That is a principle that should be difficult to dispute.

A policy affecting millions of animals, hundreds of municipalities and communities across an entire nation should not be informed by a single perspective.

For public confidence to be maintained, consultation should involve a broad range of perspectives, including those that support and those that question the chosen approach.

The government’s public engagement with GÜSODER has been highly visible. What remains less clear is the extent to which equivalent opportunities have been provided to organisations responsible for much of Turkey’s animal welfare, sterilisation, rescue and veterinary work.

We have been unable to identify publicly promoted meetings between the Interior Minister and major animal welfare federations such as HAYTAP or DIHFED concerning implementation of Law 7527. If such consultations have taken place, they have not received the same public visibility as meetings involving GÜSODER.

All relevant stakeholders should be given a meaningful opportunity to contribute to a policy that will affect millions of animals, hundreds of municipalities and communities across Turkey.

Equally important, stakeholders should be treated equally. Public safety organisations, veterinary bodies, animal welfare federations, shelter operators, legal experts, academics and volunteers may hold different views, but each brings valuable experience and expertise to the discussion.

Effective policymaking does not require agreement between all parties. It requires that all relevant perspectives are given a fair opportunity to be heard.

Because in the end, the future of Turkey’s street animals may depend not only on the policies adopted, but on who was given a seat at the table when those policies were shaped.

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When the Gebze shelter scandal erupted in October 2024, it quickly became one of the most disturbing animal welfare stories to emerge following the passage of Turkey’s amended animal law. Images from the facility spread across the country as reports emerged that dozens of animals had been discovered dead in black garbage bags. Animal welfare organisations, politicians, journalists and members of the public demanded answers. Many believed that those answers would eventually come through the legal system.

Instead, what has now arrived is a decision bringing the case to an end without a prosecution.

According to a decision issued by the Gebze Public Prosecutor’s Office, complaints made against Gebze Mayor Zinnur Büyükgöz were reviewed following the discovery of thirty dogs & fourteen cats found dead at the municipality’s temporary animal care and rehabilitation centre. Because the complaint concerned a public official, permission to investigate was sought through the procedures required under Turkish law. That permission was ultimately not granted by the Ministry of Interior. Following that decision, the prosecutor concluded that there were no grounds for prosecution.

For many people who followed the case from the beginning, that outcome will be difficult to reconcile with the events that brought national attention to Gebze in the first place. The discovery of so many dead animals was not a routine incident. Public protests followed. Animal welfare organisations lodged formal complaints. Political representatives visited the scene. Municipal employees were reportedly suspended while investigations took place. The story became a symbol of the fears many campaigners had expressed after changes to animal welfare legislation created new pathways for the removal and killing of street dogs.

The prosecutor’s decision does not rewrite what happened in October 2024. It does not change the fact that dozens of animals were found dead. It does not erase the images that shocked the country or the public concern that followed. It does not answer every question raised by animal welfare organisations, campaigners and ordinary citizens who looked at the events in Gebze and wondered how such a situation could occur.

What it does mean is that one of the most controversial animal welfare cases to emerge since the passage of the amended law appears to have reached its legal conclusion without anyone facing prosecution at the highest level of municipal responsibility.

For supporters of the law, the decision may be viewed as confirmation that the legal process has run its course. For critics, it is likely to be seen as something very different. Many will ask how a case that began with the discovery of thirty dogs & fourteen cats found dead can end without further accountability. Others will question whether public confidence is strengthened when investigations into elected officials depend upon permission being granted before they can proceed.

Regardless of where people stand on those questions, the facts at the heart of the story remain unchanged. Thirty dogs & fourteen cats lost their lives. The public demanded answers. Complaints were filed. Investigations were announced. Nearly two years later, the case has ended without a prosecution.

For many people, that will not feel like an ending at all. It will feel like the beginning of a new and uncomfortable question about accountability, transparency and what justice looks like when the victims cannot speak for themselves.

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The Bursa Provincial Animal Protection Board has removed from its agenda a six-article section relating to the use of euthanasia as a method of killing animals.

The development will be welcomed by many animal welfare advocates who had expressed concern about the inclusion of these provisions and the potential implications they could have had for dogs entering the shelter system.

However, serious concerns remain following decisions taken during the meeting.

Under Article 3, the Board has ordered the immediate collection of dogs living on a university campus and prohibited their feeding and care within the campus environment.

For many years, university campuses across Türkiye have been home to established dog populations cared for by students, staff, volunteers and local communities. These dogs often form part of the social fabric of campus life, receiving food, water and basic monitoring from the people around them. The decision to remove them and prohibit their care represents a significant change in approach.

The timing of the decision is particularly controversial.

Municipalities have been granted until the end of 2028 to complete infrastructure and capacity requirements under the law. Yet while that implementation period remains ongoing, the dogs themselves have been ordered to be removed immediately.

This raises an important question. If municipalities still have time to build the systems intended to support the law’s implementation, why are animals being required to bear the consequences before those systems are fully in place?

The concern is heightened by continuing reports from across the country that many shelters are operating under pressure. In numerous areas, sterilisation programmes, treatment services and preventative healthcare efforts have slowed, been reduced or stopped altogether as resources are diverted towards collection activities.

Animal welfare organisations have consistently argued that sustainable population management depends on preventing births, maintaining access to veterinary care, vaccinating animals against disease and supporting community-based care systems. Collection alone does not address the underlying factors that create and sustain stray animal populations.

Removing dogs from university campuses may reduce their visibility, but it does not resolve the wider challenges facing animal welfare management. Without robust sterilisation, treatment, vaccination, registration and transparent oversight, collection risks becoming an end in itself rather than part of a comprehensive welfare strategy.

The removal of the euthanasia agenda item may be viewed as a positive outcome from today’s meeting. However, the decision to urgently collect campus dogs and prohibit their feeding and care is likely to remain a source of significant concern for animal welfare advocates.

As municipalities continue implementing the law, questions will remain about whether policy is being driven by long-term animal welfare objectives or by the immediate removal of animals from public spaces. For the dogs living on Bursa’s university campus, that debate has now become a reality.

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That was the account given after a bear attack in eastern Turkey, where a livestock guardian dog named Kral intervened long enough for a child to survive.

The story was quickly framed as one of courage, loyalty and protection.
The dog became a hero. And yet elsewhere in Turkey, dogs continue disappearing from public streets under collection campaigns increasingly justified through the language of danger and public safety.

The contrast is becoming impossible to ignore.

In rural parts of Turkey, dogs are still openly recognised as essential. Livestock guardian dogs protect flocks from wolves and bears. Search dogs save lives after earthquakes. Police and military dogs are praised for discipline, intelligence and service. Family dogs are mourned deeply when lost.

But street dogs exist inside a completely different narrative.

The same society capable of celebrating a dog for saving a child’s life can also tolerate a climate where millions of free-roaming dogs are being confined and pushed in to euthanasia.

That contradiction reveals something uncomfortable about how animals are classified. Some are viewed as protectors, some are viewed as symbols of status,
some are viewed as useful and others become politically inconvenient.

The issue is no longer simply about dogs themselves. It is about perception. About which dogs are permitted value and visibility, and which are framed as disposable.

Kral disrupted that simplistic narrative

A dog capable of confronting bears to protect a child does not fit neatly into increasingly aggressive rhetoric surrounding dogs in modern Turkey. Neither do the countless community dogs that spend years living peacefully alongside residents before suddenly vanishing into systems the public rarely sees clearly.

The reality has always been more complicated than the headlines allow.

Dogs in Turkey are deeply woven into everyday life. They exist in villages, industrial areas, farms, ports, neighbourhoods and city streets. They guard, warn, accompany and coexist beside people every single day.

That coexistence has always been imperfect. But it also explains why the national conversation around dogs has become so emotionally charged. Because many people still know, from direct experience, what dogs are capable of giving back.

Kral is being celebrated today because he protected a child from bears.

Elsewhere, other dogs are still fighting simply to survive.

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Authorities in Kütahya say 18,600 stray dogs have now been collected. The figure was presented during an official coordination meeting as municipalities across Turkey continue accelerating street dog collection operations.

Official statements describe dogs being taken under protection, transferred to shelters or moved into natural living areas.

But as the numbers increase, so does public unease. Because across Turkish social media, people are beginning to ask a different question entirely:

“Where are the dogs?”

Under official announcements and local news posts, commenters repeatedly question

• which facilities are housing such large numbers

• whether sufficient shelter capacity actually exists

• where these so-called natural living areas are

• and why there is so little visible documentation showing the animals after collection.

Some commenters are now using another word, hoarding. That shift in language is significant because public perception changes once the numbers become this large. At small scale, people picture rescue. But when the figures reach into the tens of thousands, the questions become very different. People begin wondering whether animals on this scale can realistically receive proper veterinary care, enough space, adequate sanitation, disease control, behavioural support, exercise, nutrition and any meaningful quality of life at all.

The concern is no longer simply whether dogs were removed from the streets. It becomes whether systems managing such enormous numbers can genuinely provide humane long-term care.

Dog Desk Animal Action has seen first-hand what some so-called natural living areas can become in reality. The phrase creates an image of safety, open space and humane care, but the reality on the ground can look very different. Large numbers of stressed dogs confined together, worsening disease pressure, inadequate infrastructure, mud, overcrowding and animals gradually disappearing from public visibility altogether.

Authorities have publicly announced that 18,600 dogs have been collected. Yet publicly available reporting still does not clearly explain where those dogs are now, which facilities are holding them, how much actual capacity exists inside the system, what the mortality rates are, how many animals have been adopted, or whether independent inspections are taking place.

Once thousands of dogs disappear from public streets into systems the public cannot properly see, monitor or verify, the debate changes completely. The conversation stops being simply about collection and starts becoming a wider question about what separates genuine protection from confinement, warehousing and institutional-scale hoarding.

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A decision linked to the Sivas Governorship Animal Protection Board is drawing growing concern from animal welfare advocates in Turkey after campaigners claimed the board endorsed the euthanasia of street animals under Article 13 of Turkey’s Animal Protection Law No. 5199.

According to activists, the board met on April 16, 2026. Since then, campaign graphics, petitions, and social media posts have circulated alleging that the meeting resulted in a decision supporting euthanasia measures for animals considered dangerous, incurably ill, or carrying infectious diseases.

What Does the Decision Actually Say?

The wording being shared online references animals:

• considered a danger to humans or other animals

• suffering from uncontrolled infectious disease

• or deemed incurably ill.

The text also refers to animals housed within municipal care facilities or nursing homes, a term often used in Turkish translations to describe shelters or rehabilitation centres.

While campaign graphics have described the outcome as a decision to euthanise street animals, the legal wording itself appears more closely tied to the euthanasia exceptions already contained within Turkey’s current legal framework.

Turkey’s amended animal legislation allows euthanasia under certain limited conditions involving public safety and severe medical cases. Critics, however, argue that vague definitions and inconsistent oversight create the risk of much broader interpretation in practice.

Why Animal Welfare Groups Are Concerned

For many advocates, the concern is not simply the wording of Article 13 itself, but how it may be implemented on the ground. Questions repeatedly raised by campaigners include:

• Who decides a dog is dangerous?

• Are behavioural assessments being carried out individually?

• What independent oversight exists?

• Can overcrowded municipal shelters safely rehabilitate animals?

• And are dogs being fairly evaluated before irreversible decisions are made?

These concerns have intensified across Turkey since the 2024 changes to Law 5199 accelerated the removal of free-roaming dogs from the streets into municipal shelter systems.

Animal welfare organisations have repeatedly warned that shelter capacity, staffing, veterinary resources, and transparency vary dramatically between municipalities.

A Wider National Debate

The Sivas controversy is unfolding against the backdrop of one of the most divisive animal welfare debates Turkey has faced in years.

Supporters of stricter measures argue authorities must address public safety concerns, dog attacks, and disease control.

Opponents argue that the country is moving away from sterilise-vaccinate-return programmes without having the infrastructure required to humanely manage the consequences of mass collection policies.

For many campaigners, the fear is that once dogs disappear into closed shelter systems, public oversight becomes limited. That is why local board decisions like the one reported in Sivas are receiving intense scrutiny.

Calls for Transparency

At the time of writing, the full official Sivas board resolution does not appear to have been publicly released through an accessible government archive. Much of the information circulating comes through campaign groups, petitions, and translated excerpts shared online.

Advocates are now calling for:

• publication of the full decision

• clarification on how Article 13 will be interpreted locally

• transparent veterinary assessment procedures

• and guarantees against indiscriminate euthanasia.

As debate continues, one issue remains central, how these legal provisions are interpreted in practice may determine the fate of thousands of street animals across Turkey.

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