In the eastern suburbs of Paris, a 60-year-old woman named Nathalie stood beside a donkey named Nono, her hand resting on his neck—a moment that wouldn't have happened just weeks earlier. At the Ville-Evrard hospital in Neuilly-sur-Marne, psychiatric patients are finding unexpected healing through intimate encounters with five therapy donkeys named Nono, Pitou, Oscar, Manolo, and Malraux, in a program that remains unique to France.
The work matters because psychiatric care is evolving beyond medication and traditional talk therapy, and France's public health system is beginning to recognize what a small group of believers have long known: animals can be powerful healers. At Ville-Evrard, patients with mental health conditions now have access to free animal therapy sessions as part of their official treatment plan—a practice that gained formal status as a healthcare unit only in 2022, staffed by three full-time nurses dedicated to the animals and their human companions.
The program began in 2016 when Ermelinda and François Hadey, a nurse specializing in psychiatry and her husband, respectively, introduced the first donkeys to the hospital's 19th century farm buildings nestled in wooded grounds. Ermelinda believed deeply in animal therapy benefits, while François learned to train donkeys specifically for therapeutic work. Some of the animals were adopted from shelters after experiencing neglect, given a second chance alongside the patients who came to care for them. "A donkey is very intelligent. It understands things very quickly, but you have to explain slowly," François said. "Donkeys are calm, serene animals that are generally close to people. Once they're involved in these interactions, they connect very well with patients. They're emotional sponges."
The impact on participants has been immediate and measurable. Nathalie's progress astounded her nurse, Audrey Seffar: at first, she wouldn't leave a cart provided for people with physical difficulties, but with the donkey as mediator and encouragement from caregivers, she gradually found the courage to stand beside her animal. Jérôme, 52, articulated what many patients experience—the program breaks the monotony of treatment and medication while reducing the isolation that comes from staying home. "Talking with people, taking part in activities I wouldn't normally do, it helps me in my daily life," he said. Nathalie herself simply noted: "It brings relief. You stop thinking about everything else."
Since its modest beginning, the program has expanded far beyond donkeys. Patients now also interact with guinea pigs, chickens, doves, goats, turtles, and rabbits, with sessions carefully tailored to each person's needs and preferences. Volunteers from a nonprofit group help care for the expanding menagerie, multiplying the therapeutic touch.
The couple behind the program acknowledge that animal therapy—practiced in various forms around the world—needs more rigorous scientific evaluation. But they're advocating for formal recognition within the psychiatric community, pointing to their patients' lived experience as evidence. At Ville-Evrard, the results speak quietly but powerfully: a woman standing beside a donkey, a man rediscovering connection, both finding their way back to themselves through the simple, extraordinary act of care.