A woman holding a brown dog outside
Kelsey Ivey and Ed
Courtesy of Kelsey Ivey

Last year, I was celebrating a decade of working in marketing and fundraising for animal welfare organizations when my dog Ed, a nugget-sized mixed breed with a loud bark and big personality, passed away unexpectedly. Utterly devastated by the loss of my best friend—and horrified by a veterinary bill equal to the cost of a new car—I signed up to volunteer with the Humane Society of the United States’ Rural Area Veterinary Services team at a clinic serving the Quinault Indian Nation in Washington. On the reservation, veterinary care is historically hard to access due to systemic poverty and geographic isolation. Changed forever by the experience, I returned to the reservation this spring—not as a marketing professional this time, but as a pre-veterinary student inspired to take on an entirely new career path.

It was a clear, sunny April day, an unusual occurrence in rainy Washington. Outside lush forests stretched to a rugged coastline, while inside the buzzing community center were rows of tables with medical supplies and walls lined with volunteers’ camping tents. Over the next three days, we would attend to nearly 200 local pets.

As the first cars pulled up, volunteers ran over with clipboards. They began gathering information on each pet, including health history and notes on where Fido or Fluffy liked to spend their days (the nearby beach being a favorite for many).

The families I’ve met over the last two years of volunteering with RAVS prove that the human-animal bond is not limited to those with unlimited resources.

Kelsey Ivey, RAVS volunteer

Volunteers handed off the clipboards to the veterinary teams who would see one animal after the next for a wellness exam and vaccines. Cats were ushered inside to roomy enclosures, and dogs were examined cozied up in corners or outside in the fresh breeze. Friendly chatter filled the air as each team performed examinations, but sometimes a quiet calm overcame the room as a veterinarian listened closely to a client’s concerns about their beloved pet.

This process continued until the afternoon, when only one family was left. The young daughter started a game of tag and we played chase until out of breath, and the family and their freshly vaccinated pup started for home. This was what the RAVS team has created: a compassionate, safe space where the guiding intention is to support people and their pets, using as much time, care and creativity as needed.

A man kneeling next to two dogs outside.
The Rock (left) raises his trademark "eyebrow."
Ron Wurzer
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AP Images for the HSUS

At each day’s end, the RAVS team gathered over some sweet treats, generously made by the Quinault Animal Control team, and reflected on the day. We collectively laughed about The Rock, a pit bull-type dog with the trademark raised eyebrow marking of his celebrity namesake. I learned of a tuxedo cat who snuggled in bed with her person every night and the dog Snowy Mountain, whose young owner named them for their white-peaked gray markings along their body.

The families I’ve met over the last two years of volunteering with RAVS prove that the human-animal bond is not limited to those with unlimited resources. In rural areas like the Quinault Indian Reservation, where the closest veterinary clinic is an hour away, the RAVS team helps remove the burden of finding accessible and affordable care from some remarkable pet owners while giving more animals the medical attention they deserve.

Get the full scoop on RAVS and how you can volunteer. Learn More

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Chickens hunt for snacks in a pasture full of crimson clover.