As December draws to a close and the world prepares to usher in a new year, the air is thick with anticipation, celebration, and, in many places, the thunderous crackle of fireworks. For most, this spectacle is a cherished tradition—a dazzling punctuation mark to the calendar year. Yet, for some, New Year’s Eve is marked by far more than just fireworks. In Fremantle, Western Australia, one family’s boisterous water bomb war has become the stuff of local legend, while animal welfare organizations across the globe issue urgent warnings about the risks these celebrations pose to pets.
On December 30, 2025, animal welfare organizations such as the Rex Foundation and the Orpheus Animal Protection Association sounded the alarm about the dangers that New Year’s Eve fireworks present to pets—chiefly dogs and cats. According to MTI, the loud noises and flashing lights can cause intense panic, prompting animals to flee, injure themselves, or even end up in life-threatening situations. “Many dogs and cats panic due to the loud noises and bright lights. They often run away, injure themselves, or even find themselves in life-threatening situations,” the organizations warned.
The statistics are sobering: panicked pets have been known to run five to ten kilometers in just a few hours. The consequences can be dire, with frightened cats sometimes biting their owners sharply, and dogs attempting to leap over fences or wrench leashes from their handlers’ grasp. Animal welfare groups stress that most of these incidents are preventable with a bit of foresight and care.
So, what can pet owners do to safeguard their furry companions during the year’s noisiest night? The advice is clear and practical. First and foremost, never take your pets to places where fireworks are being set off. The risk of a startled animal bolting is simply too great. Dogs, especially, should not be left unattended on New Year’s Eve. Instead, pets should be given a secure refuge at home—an inner room, a quiet courtyard, a garage, or a well-fenced yard, all shielded from the cacophony outside.
Checking fences and gates for potential escape routes is vital, as even the smallest gap can become an exit for a terrified animal. Identification tags with up-to-date contact details should be attached to collars, and microchip registrations verified for accuracy. For particularly anxious pets, veterinarians may recommend sedatives to help them weather the storm.
Animal welfare activists further advise that dogs be walked on a leash with extra caution in designated walking areas between Tuesday, December 30, 2025, and Friday, January 2, 2026. Should a pet go missing, resources like www.sinter.hu offer information on local animal control services, animal welfare groups, and pet search organizations. In Budapest, the Rex Dog Shelter Foundation is once again providing a special kennel for stray animals at Rex Állatsziget in Újpest, offering a safe haven for those who do get lost amidst the chaos.
While fireworks may spell danger for pets, for the Shea family of Fremantle, Western Australia, New Year’s Eve is synonymous with a very different kind of mayhem. On December 31, 2025, a family member recounted the decades-long tradition of a New Year’s Eve and Day water bomb war—a raucous affair that has been running since 1977 and has involved up to 115 cousins, plus a host of friends and hangers-on.
The Shea family’s annual party is legendary for its tables groaning with food, raucous singing, emotional speeches, and, most notably, its organized water balloon battles. “For close to 50 years, with only a recent abatement, Sheas aged two to 90 have been decking each other with a number of water bombs best described as ‘environmentally catastrophic’,” the author wrote, capturing the chaotic spirit of the event.
The tradition is nothing if not elaborate. Family clans—sometimes numbering over a dozen members—arrive with cars packed full of bin bags, baskets, and buckets brimming with hundreds of water balloons. While adults swap stories and enjoy the feast, younger relatives take up positions at the sink, filling even more balloons for the communal arsenal. The battle lines are eventually drawn along the street, with participants bunkering down behind vehicles, awaiting the first volley.
There’s a method to the madness. Wise elders, perched on the veranda, serve as umpires, keeping an eye out for oncoming traffic (“No one could yell ‘CAR’ like my Auntie Gwen,” the author reminisced) and innocent bystanders. An engineering corps fills balloons at the front yard spigot, ensuring a steady supply for the ongoing skirmish.
At the heart of the operation sits the family’s giant white van—a mobile citadel that has played a central role for decades. In years past, it served as the launchpad for town raids, with the family piling in and embarking on water balloon sorties against Fremantle’s unsuspecting New Year’s revelers. “Mum drove the van down the hill into town where—leaning from windows, holding each other by belts and collars, calling out targets like artillerymen—my family would lay siege to Fremantle and its drunken NYE revellers. It was a floodbath.”
Despite the chaos, the Sheas adhered to a strict code: no targeting pregnant women, babies, homeless people, those with disabilities, or anyone who looked dangerous. Police were strictly off-limits, and no balloons were thrown when the van was stopped at a red light. The rest, as they say, was fair game. At the height of the tradition, there could be ten or more raids a night, sometimes lasting until 2am, with the local fire brigade occasionally retaliating by hosing down the family as they drove past.
The town raids eventually ceased in the early 2000s after police intervened and threatened arrest, shifting the focus to even fiercer interfamily street battles. Over the years, technological innovations such as water blasters, tote bags, and devices capable of filling multiple balloons at once have kept the tradition alive and evolving.
Of course, all this fun comes with a price: the next day’s clean-up. “There’s nothing like picking up 10,000 used water balloons from boiling hot cement on a 35C New Year’s Day to make you question a lot of things about yourself and the people who raised you,” the author quipped. Yet, even as the tradition has waned—thanks to changing interests and a growing concern for safety—nostalgia and the prospect of a revival linger in the air.
Whether it’s the silent suffering of pets or the raucous joy of a family water bomb war, New Year’s Eve is a night that brings out the full spectrum of human (and animal) experience. For some, it’s a time to hunker down and protect loved ones from the world outside; for others, it’s a chance to let loose, make memories, and maybe get a little wet in the process. As midnight approaches, both caution and celebration find their place—reminding us that the ways we mark the passage of time are as varied as the lives we lead.