Inside the Sanctuary Giving Thousands of Rescue Animals a Second Chance

In Alfonso, Cavite, just a few minutes away from the busy Tagaytay ridge, sits an unassuming property. From the outside, it looks like any other private estate, complete with towering walls and an imposing gate.But beyond those fences lies a furry frenzy—the kind that could overwhelm even the most devoted pet owners, this writer included.

It’s not the unmistakable dog smell or the nonstop barking that gets to you first, though those are certainly impossible to miss. It’s the sheer number of dogs running toward you all at once, tails wagging wildly as if greeting a long-lost friend.

As of their last headcount in April, Biyaya Animal Sanctuary cares for 1,520 dogs and around 300 cats—but no number quite prepares you for what that scale actually looks like in person. Seeing over a thousand dogs roaming, playing, barking, and running toward visitors all at once is something you can only fully comprehend once you’re standing in the middle of it. But somehow, there was no fear; in fact, our team exchanged excited looks, ready to give the waiting dogs unlimited pats. 

“Don’t worry, they’re all friendly—just excited,” says Kim Young, the Sanctuary Manager, as she led us around the property. “Everybody here loves to give you cuddles, and they would want you to pet them as much as you can,” she says.

Most of the animals at Biyaya Animal Sanctuary are allowed to roam freely around the property. In fact, as we were walking around, we somehow formed a pack of our own. Everywhere we went, we had an entourage led by the rescue pomeranian Gilbert, the three-legged Choco, the overly excited aspin, Bansot, Cooper the cuddly labrador mix, and the sanctuary’s “official ambassador” Tau. They acted like our unofficial tour guides, as if telling the other dogs that we passed their vibe check.

The sanctuary is divided into two main areas: the larger space for all the dogs, and a moderately sized cattery for the felines (and a couple of feline-friendly dogs). The difference between these two areas is like night and day, or quite literally, cat and dog.

Most of the two-hectare property is really dedicated to the canines. It’s a vast open space with lots of trees, huts, and open pavilions, where the dogs can just laze around and be dogs.

There are still a handful of enclosures scattered across the sanctuary. But these aren’t meant to sort “good” from “bad.” Instead, they house special cases—puppies still too young to be neutered, dogs recovering from contagious skin conditions, or animals needing closer medical attention.

Some spaces also serve as temporary holding areas for new rescues as they adjust to the sanctuary. Though, as dogs often do, many have already claimed these corners as their favorite spots to lounge, nap, and wait for passing humans willing to give them attention.

Should you be planning a visit, we have to issue a fair warning: it can be quite deafening to walk around. Every time you enter a space, you’ll be greeted with a cacophony of barks—never aggressive, we’ve found, just really, really excited. Pro tip: bring earplugs if you’re sensitive to loud noise.

But all that disappears when you enter the cattery. In true feline fashion, it’s much quieter and more zen. You’ll find over 300 cats lounging about, napping in their little baskets and cat apartments, and swishing their tails silently, judging you. If you’ve ever played the game Neko Atsume, this is that in real life.

“We’re a no-kill shelter. All the animals at Biyaya Animal Sanctuary are spayed and neutered, vaccinated, and socialized, so that it will be safe for both human and animal when they eventually roam around,” says Young proudly. 

“We rescue a lot of animals from all around Manila. But we don't just pick any dog or cat. We try to choose which one needs us the most because I feel like if we get all the dogs from the street as much as we want to, the space wouldn’t be enough,” she adds. “We rescue the dogs and cats, and we try to give them a second chance.”

Biyaya Animal Sanctuary opened in September 2022 and is owned and operated by animal welfare advocate Rina Ortiz, whose love for animals extends far beyond the sanctuary itself. In fact, as her staff jokingly shares, Ortiz also cares for over a hundred other rescued animals at home.

Ortiz is not new to the animal welfare game. From childhood, she’s had a soft spot for animals, often feeding and taking in strays. Even before Biyaya, she already supported and participated in a program called Trap-Neuter-Vaccinate-Return (TNVR), the safest, science-backed, and most humane method for managing and controlling feral and free-roaming street cats. But when the pandemic came, she noticed that strays needed help more than ever.

She describes the creation of the sanctuary as a response to a “cumulative heartbreak”—one shaped by years of witnessing abandoned animals, puppies and kittens born into suffering because prevention never came, injured dogs left on roadsides, and community animals treated as disposable. She also saw rescuers themselves struggling under the weight of a crisis far bigger than any one person or organization could handle alone.

So Ortiz decided to professionalize her passion by building the Biyaya Animal Care social enterprise, hoping to help fill the gaps left by systemic failures in animal welfare.

The sanctuary itself is part of the larger Biyaya Animal Care group, which also operates a network of animal care clinics across Metro Manila, as well as its own pet care and accessories line. Proceeds from these sister companies help fund the sanctuary’s day-to-day operations—from food and medication to medical treatment and upkeep.

This self-sustaining model sets Biyaya Animal Sanctuary apart from many other animal welfare groups and shelters, allowing the organization to support large-scale rescue and rehabilitation efforts while reducing reliance on donations alone.

Ortiz is pretty hands-on at the sanctuary. She regularly visits and takes part in the daily routine when she can. She even goes out on rescues to bring animals in need to the shelter herself. But her battle for animal welfare is mostly fought in arenas outside the sanctuary.

“One of the hardest truths in animal welfare is that building more shelters alone will never solve overpopulation,” she explains. “If we are not careful, sanctuaries can become physical manifestations of unresolved systemic problems—larger spaces trying to absorb suffering faster than society is willing to prevent it.”

For Ortiz, rescue work cannot exist without long-term efforts focused on prevention, education, and responsible pet ownership. 

“Rescue is often the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff,” she says. “Necessary, urgent, compassionate—but still downstream from the real problem.”

For her, meaningful change lies in prevention: kapon, vaccination, education, policy reform, community accountability, responsible ownership, and building more humane systems for both animals and the people caring for them. Which is why more often than not, you’ll find Ortiz coordinating with local government units like those in Quezon City, Manila, Dasmariñas, and others in Metro Manila to take in animals from city pounds, coordinating spay-neuter-and-vaccinate efforts, and other strategic ways to deliver on Biyaya’s focus of a rabies-free and stray-free Philippines by 2035.

While much of Ortiz’s advocacy work now happens across clinics, LGUs, and rescue initiatives, daily life at the sanctuary is entrusted to Young and her team.

“There are about 30 of us, caring for all of them. There are handlers who clean the areas, feed them, and bathe them, and then there are also veterinarian techs who administer routine medication and do routine check-ups,” explains Young. “There are also vets on call at the Biyaya Animal Care Clinics, who we can consult with for more complex cases,” she adds.

A typical day at Biyaya Animal Sanctuary begins at 7 a.m., when the sanctuary slowly comes alive, and staff members begin the massive task of cleaning up after over 1,700 animals. Most of the morning is spent clearing away the poop and pee left from the night before, washing down spaces, and preparing the grounds for another day.

At the same time, vet techs make their rounds to check on animals needing medical attention, administer maintenance medication, and monitor dogs recovering from illnesses or procedures. Depending on the schedule, some dogs are also lined up for bath time.

By noon, attention shifts toward preparing meals. The animals are typically fed once or twice a day, with additional feeding schedules for malnourished rescues needing extra care. In a single day, the sanctuary goes through around 12 sacks of rice, 400 kilograms of scrap meat, 30 to 40 kilograms of vegetables, and roughly four sacks of dog food—all cooked onsite by the staff.

Then by 1 p.m., the sanctuary erupts into puppy pandemonium once again as feeding time officially begins.

After that, it’s another round of cleaning and vet checks until the sanctuary winds down for the night.

On average, Young says it takes about P1.5 million per month to keep the sanctuary afloat. This amount covers all operational expenses, including food and medication for the animals, the workers' salaries, and utilities. The amount is huge, but considering the sheer number of animals they take care of, that translates to roughly P882 per rescue per month. Not bad, considering most pet owners will tell you that taking care of one pet costs way more than that in a month.

And while the self-sustaining model definitely helps with the upkeep, more often than not, it’s not enough, and the sanctuary often has to tighten its belt to keep running. Thus, the need for volunteers.

“People can come here and volunteer. They can help us with feeding the dogs, taking the dogs for walks, or showering the dogs,” Young explains. “But most of all, we just want you to interact with all the rescued animals just to make them feel that they are also loved.”

The sanctuary welcomes volunteers of all group sizes to spend a day helping care for the animals. All it takes is messaging Biyaya Animal Sanctuary through its Facebook page to schedule a visit.

But don’t expect to simply stand around taking photos with cute dogs. Volunteers are encouraged to participate in the sanctuary’s daily routine—from feeding and walking the animals to helping socialize rescues that may simply need gentleness, patience, and human interaction. And somewhere between all the barking, cleaning, and belly rubs, there’s also a good chance you might end up falling in love with a rescue of your own.

“The best way to support us is by adopting, or fostering, even one rescue,” says Kim.

“Adoption remains one of our most important goals because sanctuaries should never become permanent warehouses for animals. Every successful adoption changes the trajectory of a life—not only for the animal leaving, but also for the next animal who may now have a chance to enter safety,” Ortiz adds.

Outside the sanctuary itself, Biyaya also regularly partners with organizations and companies on events, rescue drives, and adoption campaigns to raise awareness and encourage more compassionate pet ownership across the country. Some of their more recent events include a partnership with the Ayala Museum for Pawseum, its first-ever pet-friendly open house. There’s also Pawcasso, a watercolor painting class at SoFa. And coming soon, they’ll have more adoption drives in malls like Market! Market!, and a fundraising and adoption drive beach day at Aquaverde in Laiya, Batangas.

Biyaya Animal Sanctuary makes volunteering and caring for these animals look almost effortless. But behind the wagging tails, eager eyes, and affectionate personalities is a long journey of rehabilitation, patience, and trust-building.

Many of the rescues come from unfathomably difficult situations—abandonment, surrender, abuse, neglect, or years spent surviving on the streets. Some arrive malnourished or injured. Others carry emotional wounds less immediately visible, like how Gilbert flinches when a hand is raised near him.

Which is why Ortiz, Young, and the rest of the team are careful about where the animals eventually end up. For them, adoption isn’t simply about finding homes—it’s about finding the “furever” homes for animals that have already experienced some of the worst ways of living. 

“I want people to understand that our job may look like heaven because we're here with all the dogs and cats. We give them love. We pet them every day. We live with them. But I want people to understand that this is a very, very hard job,” says Young.

She shares that the hardest part of her job is seeing the quiet heartbreak in the eyes of surrendered pets—the ones whose owners have willingly given their pets away.

“I feel so sorry for the dogs or for the cats that still expect their owners to come back, she shares. “The responsibility then falls to us to gain their trust and take care of them. It takes a lot of patience, and it takes a lot of love.”

Despite the odds, Biyaya has had success in getting their rescues adopted. Gilbert, the pomeranian who spent the entire day guiding us around the property, had apparently formed a deep attachment to Young. Rarely leaving her side, he has since become her companion even on her days off—safe to say he’s the teacher—er, manager’s pet.

Then there’s Cheetos and Bella, a pair of cats who have been adopted by the pet brand Akiika, making them their cat models for their line of treats and cat shampoo. There is also a set of Belgian Malinois puppies who have been adopted by a working K9 team. And a whole lot of other rescues who have been successfully matched by Biyaya’s Adoption team to worthy homes in and around Metro Manila. 

Biyaya has been able to successfully rehome over 600 animals since it began in 2022. It’s not nearly as high as the team would like, but it’s a start. 

“Ironically, the greatest success for sanctuaries like ours would be becoming less necessary,” says Ortiz.