The Humane Society of Greene County is an independent, non-profit organization, run by volunteers. 

We do not operate a shelter but all our programs are specifically designed with the goal of alleviating animal abuse and suffering throughout Greene County, Ohio. We prevent animal suffering from overpopulation through affordable spay/neuter programs

Big Wolly and Doug: A Story of Second Chances
We first heard about Big Wolly and Doug through a concerned call: two donkeys in distress, one with severely overgrown hooves—likely from founder, a painful condition.
Our Humane Agents found them standing in a muddy field, their coats matted and hooves in bad shape. Despite the neglect, their eyes still held hope.
The owner, injured and overwhelmed, asked for help—and we stepped in. A vet and farrier were brought out immediately. The donkeys were sedated, vaccinated, and given an initial hoof trim to ease their pain.
Now in a loving foster home, Wolly and Doug are receiving the care they deserve—specialized feed, shelter, and regular vet and farrier visits. But this kind of care is costly.
Their recovery is only possible thanks to donors like you. Please consider supporting their journey with a gift today. We will be updating their progress on a regular basis in the chapters below.

Click here to donate. Enter Big Wolly and Doug in the "In Memory/Honor of box"

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Select a chapter... Part 1 – The Call Part 2 – First Look Part 3 – The Commitment Part 4 – Groundwork & Deworming Part 5 – Transport Day Part 6 – Arrival & Adjustment Part 7 – Settling In & Medical Needs Part 8 – A Dark Week for the Dougster Part 9 – Ghosts of the Barn

Part 1 – The Call

In March 2025, we got a call about two donkeys living in poor conditions. One had severely overgrown hooves, likely from founder. When our humane agents visited the property, it was clear both animals were in distress.
With the owner recovering from a serious injury, they asked if the Humane Society could step in—and we did.

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➡️ Next: Part 2

Part 2 – First Look

March 13, 2025 – First Look at Wooly and Doug

I pull up the drive and step out into a quiet morning. The property isn’t the worst I’ve seen—not by a long shot—but it’s not great either. Wooly and Doug are down in the lower field, standing in a patch of tired grass.

I make my way to the house first, knock, and wait. Nothing. No one home. That means I can’t step onto the property, but I can still observe from the gate. So I do.

Doug is the first to notice me. He ambles up the hill slowly, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth—not from dehydration or starvation, just… Doug being Doug. It’s kind of his thing, I guess. He’s definitely not missed any meals, but he has missed a few farrier appointments. His hooves are cracked and in need of a trim, but I’ve seen worse.

I stay by the gate at the top of the hill, watching. Doug keeps inching closer. I reach into my pocket, hoping I still have a couple horse treats. Jackpot.

Holding one out, I wait. He stretches his neck toward me, cautiously. Not too close—he's clearly watched enough true crime to know better than that—but close enough to snag the treat. Smart guy.

Not long after Doug makes his move, I notice Big Wooly watching from a distance. He’s sizing me up, ears forward, thinking it over. Eventually, he seems to decide I might be his type.

Since Doug already gave me the stamp of approval—and maybe the treat didn’t hurt either—Wooly takes a more confident approach. He walks right up, no hesitation, like we’ve known each other a while. No games, no slow creep like Doug. He’s all in.

It’s always something special when animals who’ve been let down by people still choose to trust. Even a little bit.

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➡️ Next: Part 3

Part 3 – The Commitment

With no one home, I leave a note on the door—just enough to let them know I stopped by, saw the donkeys, and would like to talk.

Later that day, my phone rings. It’s the owner. She’s kind, but clearly overwhelmed. She explains she’s been trying to find a farrier, but hasn’t had any luck. I tell her I’ll see what I can do.

I make a few calls, pull a few strings, and find a farrier willing to come out. When I call her back with the good news, she pauses. Then she tells me the truth: she can’t do this anymore. Her health’s taken a turn, and caring for the donkeys just isn’t possible. She asks if we can take them.

We say yes.

I line up both the vet and the farrier—miraculously, they both rearrange their schedules so we can do everything in one visit. Huge props to both of them.

The visit goes as well as it possibly could. The boys get their vaccines and a little sleepy-time help. Their hooves get some much-needed trimming. Doug’s feet are manageable. Wooly’s are another story. He’s foundered and will need ongoing care and multiple farrier visits, but it’s a start.

I work out a short-term plan with the owner: I’ll come out twice a day to feed and spend time with them. Build trust. Make sure they know me. Because eventually, we’re going to ask them to walk into the big scary aluminum rolling box—the horse trailer—and that’s not something you spring on a donkey without a little groundwork.

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➡️ Next: Part 4

Part 4 – The Groundwork & Deworming

The next two weeks were all about the slow work—earning trust, twice a day, every day. I showed up with feed, fresh water, and pockets full of horse treats. We were making progress.

But before the vet and farrier came, I had to do something a little tricky: get halters on these two unhandled mustangs. I had a plan.

It was a bad plan.

They let me know just how bad it was.

See, they liked the nice guy with the food, the water, the sweet talk. But the guy with the halter and rope? That guy was a total jerk. We were not on speaking terms.

I did manage to get halters on both of them—eventually—but it came at a cost. Every time I pushed them out of their comfort zone, I paid for it the next visit. Doug, especially, would hang back like I’d broken some kind of unspoken treaty. Wooly would still wander over, hopeful that there might be something good in the old coat pocket. But Doug? He took his time.

So I made a rule. Still use it. You want what I’ve got? You come get it. I’m not chasing. I’m not forcing. Kindness is the key—but I’m also not trying to raise a couple donkeys who throw a fit in the middle of Walmart because they didn’t get their way.

After the vet and farrier visit, there was still one more unpleasant milestone before the boys could officially take up residence at the McKee Road Home for Misunderstood and Mildly Troubled Equines: deworming.

Now, I’m not a monster—I explained it to them ahead of time. I told them it wasn’t personal, that everyone has to do it, and that it would be over quickly.

They were not convinced.

With paste plunger in hand and optimism in my heart, I approached. I left with dewormer all over my coat, zero in their mouths, and a bruised ego. 0 for 2. Clearly, it was time for a new strategy.

So I sweetened the pot—literally. I whipped up a feed-topper so irresistibly sweet and sticky it could’ve passed for state fair taffy. Basted their grain with it like I was glazing a holiday ham.

They weren’t thrilled. But they ate it.

Doug, however, held a grudge. Two full days of side-eye and cold shoulders. You’d have thought I stole his favorite hat.

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➡️ Next: Part 5

Part 5 – Transport Day

I hooked up the Humane Society’s horse trailer (thanks to your generous donations) and headed out. It was a mild spring day, with scattered showers—not ideal, but the schedule said “today,” and we had help lined up.

Backing the trailer down the narrow driveway proved... entertaining. Doug watched the whole thing with mild amusement as I made a few less-than-perfect attempts. Eventually, I got it right, and it was time to load up.

Halters? Check. Ropes? Check. Feed, treats, a bit of optimism? All packed. These things can go sideways quickly—because donkeys and trailers go together like oil and water.

Doug was up first.

He gave the trailer a solid look, then firmly declined. Apparently, he wanted to trade his first-round pick to Wooly. Unfortunately for Doug, we’d already invoked the “no tag backs” clause. After some negotiation (and a few choice words on his part), he was in. Time: 15 minutes.

Wooly, your turn.

Wooly wasn’t buying it either. The property owner figured it had been at least 20 years since either donkey had left the land. No trailering, no traveling—just standing their ground for two decades. So this wasn’t going to be easy.

Geometry, physics, and a small amount of human blood (none from the donkeys) were sacrificed. But eventually—finally—two donkeys stood secured in the trailer.

We were on the road.

□ Donate to Their Care

➡️ Next: Part 6

Part 6 – Arrival & Adjustment

We pulled into their new spot—the R&R destination for two well-traveled donkeys. The trailer doors opened to a mild breeze, soft grass underfoot, and a new chapter waiting just beyond the ramp.

Doug and Wooly stepped out slowly, ears up, eyes alert. They took in the surroundings like seasoned travelers checking into a five-star retreat. Their expressions said it all: full-service, all-inclusive, and pasture view? Not bad.

The fields were lush and tempting—green as can be. But sadly, the buffet wasn’t open. Due to their health, particularly Wooly’s founder recovery, they were restricted to a carefully curated menu: low starch, high fiber, all the hay they could munch. Not exactly the indulgent spread they’d imagined, but they took it in stride.

The other horses on the property were immediately curious—heads over fences, a few excited whinnies—but the boys had booked a private suite. No roommates. No drama. Just time to decompress and safely ease into their new surroundings.

Trust takes time. Routine takes repetition. But the foundation was already there. This wasn’t a rescue anymore—it was a recovery. And Wooly and Doug? They were ready to begin.

□ Donate to Their Care

➡️ Next: Part 7

Part 7 – Settling In & Medical Needs

The next couple of weeks were mostly uneventful. Wooly and Doug settled into their new routine and started to get acquainted with the horses in the barn. They were a little salty about one thing though: the horses were happily grazing on pasture while they remained on a restricted diet.

Dougie, in particular, had fallen prey to the modern Western diet. You see, donkeys weren’t designed for the buffet life. In their natural environment, wild donkeys evolved to survive in arid regions where food was scarce and often fibrous—dry grasses, shrubs, and whatever roughage they could find. They grazed slowly and moved constantly. Meals weren’t handed to them—they were earned, one bite at a time.

But today’s domesticated donkeys? Let’s just say they aren’t exactly trekking miles for a mouthful. And that leads to trouble—especially for Wooly.

Wooly was diagnosed with full-blown Cushing’s Disease, or PPID (Pituitary Pars Intermedia Dysfunction). It’s a condition where the pituitary gland produces excess hormones, often leading to long, curly coats, muscle wasting, laminitis, and chronic metabolic issues. His numbers weren’t just elevated—they were through the roof.

Managing Cushing’s isn’t cheap. Wooly’s medication alone runs about $100–150 per month, depending on his response and any needed adjustments. But it’s not optional—it’s the only way to keep him comfortable and stable.

For both boys, recovery meant more than just good hay and kind words. It meant thoughtful management, daily care, and long-term commitment. And they were finally somewhere that could offer it.

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➡️ Next: Part 8

Part 8 – A Dark Week for the Dougster

It was supposed to be Wooly’s week. He was due for his next trim, and we were ready to say goodbye to the last of his elf-shaped feet—those twisted, curled hooves caused by laminitis. Laminitis is a painful inflammation of the soft tissues inside the hoof, and it often comes on fast in donkeys with metabolic issues like founder or Cushing’s. Left unchecked, it can lead to irreversible damage and severe discomfort. But with regular corrective trimming, you can slowly guide the hoof back into a healthier shape.

Thankfully, our farrier Brian has been doing an expert-level job with Wooly’s feet, shaping them millimeter by millimeter, helping him regain a more normal gait and a little bit of swagger.

But while Wooly was on the upswing, Doug started slipping.

At first, it was subtle. No morning “HEEHAW!” to demand breakfast. Then he skipped a meal. And then another. Anyone who knows Doug knows that's like your Labrador skipping a steak dinner. Alarms were going off.

Time to call in the big guns: Dr. McOwen.

She came out the same day and gave Doug a once-over. His temp was up—not dangerously high, but definitely not normal. Could be colic, she said. Nothing obvious was presenting, but it was enough to warrant action. She treated him accordingly and started him on antibiotics.

The next morning, still no real change. Another round of meds. Fluids. Hope.

Day three came with the tiniest glimmer. He sniffed his feed and nibbled a little. Not much, but enough to say we might be turning a corner.

More drugs? Absolutely. Happy to pay. My goal is to die poor, and I’m well on my way.

Doug is slowly coming back around—he's not quite out of the woods yet, but the path is clearing. And if there's one thing we’ve learned about the Dougster, it’s that he doesn’t go down without a fight.

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➡️ Next: Part 9

Part 9 – Ghosts of the Barn

The days that followed were rough.

One day, Doug would nibble on hay and we’d think he was turning a corner. The next, he’d barely touch his feed. And I’d spiral: You pulled this donkey from what you believed was an unsuitable place only to make him worse? You’re supposed to be the hero here.

But this wasn’t about me. Doug had been through more in three decades than most animals ever do. He was sick. He was tired. But he wasn’t a quitter.

Dr. Molly came every day. Temperature checks, full regimens of meds, therapy. Doug held on, and I did everything I could to meet him halfway.

One evening, I found him lying in his stall. He didn’t even lift his head. I sat down next to him, gently rubbed his ears, and stayed there for a long time. Six weeks I’d known him—but it could’ve been sixty years.

I told Doug—and whatever gods might be listening—“You owe nothing to no one. This is up to you now Boss.”

We sat in the barn I built for animals like him—those forgotten or cast aside.

And I thought about the others.

Sugar, the Arab who’d pass out holding her breath to avoid a tight saddle… then wake up and go on a ride like nothing happened.

Cherokee, the grumpy vet-hating gelding who was the gentlest ride for little kids.

Domingo, once a walking skeleton, pulled from the brink by volunteers who believed his life still mattered. He just wanted to be a horse—and he was, until the end.

Mr. Hobbes, the pony from a so-called mini-horse breeding mill. Blind in his later years, he was guided around the property by Demetrius, the failed racehorse who finally found his calling.

This barn knows ghosts. Tonight, it held another: Doug, the little gray donkey with the sad eyes.

And me.

What’s it gonna be, buddy?

As I scratched his ears one last time before heading inside, I wondered—why am I so invested? I’ve only known this donkey for six weeks. I’m 62 years old. Why am I choking up?

I just want a couple of donkeys to be happy. Is that too much to ask?

Maybe I need a therapist.

Nah. I’ve got donkeys. And they’ve got me.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you’re halfway in,—know that Doug pulls through. But if you’re all in? Let me tell you something: these two are teaching me more about life, about myself, than I ever expected.

Sometimes I just sit in the barn with them, in the quiet.

And that’s enough.

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➡️ Next: Coming Soon

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Meet your new bestie!​

The images you see in the carousel below feature some of the wonderful animals currently available for adoption. These pets are waiting for their forever homes, and we invite you to learn more about them by visiting our Pets for Adoption page.
On that page, you'll find detailed profiles for each pet, including their names, breeds, personalities, and adoption requirements. Whether you're looking for a playful puppy, a gentle senior cat, or a loyal companion, we have a variety of animals hoping to find a loving family.
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If you see a pet that captures your heart, don't hesitate to reach out to the current caretaker for more information or to schedule a visit. Your new best friend may be just a click away!

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Donate Your Old Cell Phones & Printer Cartridges Today!

Did you know that your old cell phones and printer cartridges could help support the Humane Society and protect our environment? By donating these items, you're not only giving a second life to electronics but also helping us fund our vital work with animals in need.
Why Donate?

• Support Animal Welfare: Every item you donate helps us provide shelter, food, and medical care to animals looking for their forever homes.
• Eco-Friendly: Donating your electronics helps reduce landfill waste and prevents harmful chemicals from damaging our planet.

How to Donate? It's easy! Just drop off your old cell phones and printer cartridges at our office 187 Bellbrook Ave
Xenia, OH  45385
Join us in making a difference for our furry friends and the environment. Your small act of kindness can have a big impact.

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 Important information and resources
​ Below are downloadable useful guides and information.  Feel free to download and share
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neighborhoodcats__shelter_.pdf
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humanesocietyfactsheet.pdf
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lost_and_found_pets.pdf
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resource_list.pdf
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10,000th Cat! (And then some)

The Humane Society of Greene County reached a milestone this month when it treated the 10,000th cat at its monthly spay/neuter clinic.  Started in 2006, these same day clinics offer a low cost alternative for controlling the pet population and are available to any Greene County resident caring for outside cats at a cost of $15 for male cats and $20 for females.  Inoculations are also available for a minimum additional charge.  They do not operate a shelter. 

Spaying and neutering are vital in preventing pet overpopulation, especially with stray cats.  A female cat may have up to four litters of kittens a year, many of which end up in animal shelters or are left to fend for themselves.  It's just as important to neuter male cats since far-roaming males can create litters with any unaltered female in heat.  It also greatly reduces their chances of injury from fighting, and curbs undesirable behaviors like spraying.  Neutering is a minimally invasive procedure that provides a lifetime of benefits for both the cat and the community. 

The Humane Society of Greene County also offers a second reduced cost spay/neuter program for both cats and dogs for low to medium level income families.  In 2022, the total number of dogs and cats spayed or neutered through both programs totaled 1,581.   

A 501(c)3 nonprofit group of volunteers, the Humane Society relies on  donations and grants since it receives no funding from local government or  national level animal related organizations.   

The clinics are held the second Saturday of each month but you must register in advance by calling the Humane Society at 937-376-3001 or email us at [email protected].​

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Spay & Neuter Programs

We offer low cost spay & neuter programs to the residents of Greene County.  Call or email us to see if you qualify 937-376-3001