Make a Gift

The money you contribute to the Bangor Humane Society immediately goes towards saving lives and helping animals in need. Donations to our 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization feed, provide medical care, spay/neuter surgeries, and shelter thousands of homeless pets each year.

Please consider giving today. Help us create a better world for animals! All contributions, large and small, truly make a difference in the lives of our shelter animals. Donations can be made now, online, by clicking here.

Mail Donations via check to The Bangor Humane Society at this address:

The Bangor Humane Society
693 Mount Hope Avenue
Bangor, ME 04401

CLICK HERE for other ways you can support our work with your donation.

For Questions Regarding Donations

Please email our Director of Development and Communications, Kathryn Ravenscraft at [email protected]. Call her at (207) 942-8902 ext 103.

For inspiration to join our family of donors, we invite you to read the story of Wonder.

Wonder

by Chris Mares, Volunteer

“It’s like speed dating,” Richard said, climbing the steep trail behind his friend, his feet crunching on the dry leaves. 

“Speed dating?”

“Yes, you get one, take them out, walk them round, talk to them, then take them back,” Richard said. His friend paused when they came to a rocky outcrop and they both turned and looked west across the tree clad hills towards Blue Hill. 

“You like it, I take it,” his friend said. “I love it,” Richard said, “I’ve never felt this feeling before. Of belonging, It’s where I’m supposed to be.” Richard took off his backpack and pulled his water bottle from the side pocket. “The speed dating thing?” Richard’s friend said. “The dogs. Spending some time with them,” Richard said. He sipped from his bottle, watching the sun shimmer on the sea in the distance. Clouds were rolling in from the southwest and the wind was picking up. 

“I only had an hour and there were six dogs to take out… so it’s pretty quick, and they need to feel safe, and loved. They all have stories…” Richard put his backpack on and got his hiking poles ready to continue the ascent up Pemetic Mt. 

“There’s this one dog…” Richard began, falling in behind his friend. “Wonder… this old black lab… he’s blind and deaf.” 

“Blind and deaf?” His friend said. “Yes,” Richard said, “someone found him by the side of the road, shaking. They brought him in…” 

“No one’s going to want a blind and deaf dog,” his friend said, pulling himself up a steep rock, as they neared the summit. Richard swallowed and felt tears well in his eyes. 

“He was so sweet,” Richard said, “just standing there in his cage. All these other dogs were jumping and barking, just desperate to get out, and Wonder was just standing there.” 

They were close to the summit now, Richard’s hiking poles clattering on the rocks. 

“Poor Wonder,” Richard’s friend said.

“He was waiting. Not moving. I opened his cage and slipped the leash over his neck and he took a step forward. You have to be really careful and guide him. I let him sniff my hand, then he moved towards my leg and sniffed my pants and I stroked him and told him he was a good boy, but he couldn’t hear me. I just stroked him gently and led him out.” 

They were on the summit now and could see the other tree-clad mountains.

“We’ve just got to keep doing this,” Richard’s friend said, “as long as we can. Most people our age couldn’t do this.”

“No,” Richard said, a tear rolling down his cheek as he thought about Wonder.

“Wonder,” Richard’s friend said, “I was listening. It’s just, this view.”

Richard nodded, leaning on his poles. He could feel the sweat on his back and his brow. 

“Wonder,” Richard continued, “he stayed right next to my leg, slightly behind me. The other dogs, when I took them out, were straining on their leashes, panting and pulling, just eager to get outside and have a sniff and do their business.” 

“I guess he couldn’t see,” Richard’s friend said. 

“No. I led him past the cages with all the other dogs going berserk. It’s noisy in there. And Wonder just lopes along behind me. He was very cautious and I had to lead him through the doors and round corners til we got outside.”

“It’s great that you volunteer,” Richard’s friend said, “it must be tough for those dogs. By themselves. Abandoned…” 

“Yes,” Richard said, thinking about the other dogs-the tiny chiweenie, and the old Great Dane with an inflatable ring round his neck so he couldn’t bite the stitches off his haunch. 

“They all have their stories,” Richard continued. “Then we get outside, and Wonder starts to smell the grass. He’s still behind me and I lead him out into the field. And then stops and turns his head towards me, like he’s telling me something. One of his eyes is closed and the other is red and blank…” 

“Poor old Wonder,” Richard’s friend said, pausing and pointing to a frozen puddle on the trail. “Ice,” he added.

“I crouch down next to him,” Richard says, “and his mouth opens, and it looks like he’s smiling. His tongue comes out and he’s panting a little… you know, in the way dogs do…”

Richard swallows and feels tears rising again.

“He just wanted to be loved… to be stroked. He didn’t know me, but he could sense me… I don’t know… he just felt safe… I could tell.”

Richard’s friend was listening now.

“Then he lay down on the grass and rolled on his back. HIs mouth was open and his tongue out. He wanted me to rub his belly. So I rubbed it and you could tell he just loved it. And he’s deaf and blind and nobody wants him… and all he needed was some love and to feel he belonged and that he had a pack.”

Richard stopped talking and looked at the vista ahead of him. In the far distance, towards Mt. Katahdin, he could see tiny wind turbines and miles and miles of trees. 

“And he’s there now, in his cage,” Richard said, “all by himself.”

“It’s good that you do this, Richard. You found your place.”

“I think I did,” Richard said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I really think I did.”