An Angel (Vet) Among Us
by Jayme George • photograph Ted Brummond
 Doug Honken and patient. |
They call him the “Angel Vet,” but modesty causes Doug Honken (B.S. ’86) to cringe at the title.
At a solid 6'3", little about Honken’s appearance reflects the stereotypical image of a petite, winged cherub, ocean-blue eyes aside.
Honken’s quiet reserve reveals a wariness of anyone without four paws or a tail. His life’s work has taught him “people usually want something, animals don’t.” When he begins to talk, it is about his Laramie, Wyoming, veterinary practice, the Animal Health Center. His gaze falls on a wall plaque, which he reluctantly confides “is worth its weight in gold.”
The plaque reads, “English Springer Rescue America honors Doug Honken,
D.V.M., and the Animal Health Center for service to springer spaniels and
furry
creatures of all kinds.”
It all began when Maya, a 2-year-old English springer spaniel born with two bad hips, was abandoned at an Omaha, Nebraska, animal hospital in 2004. Without the several-thousand-dollar-surgeries to replace her hips, Maya wouldn’t die, but she would be destined for a life of pain.
Fortunately for Maya, Kristi Wallin (B.S. ’84, M.S. ’92), also of Laramie, is an integral Rocky Mountain link on an above-ground-railroad-of-sorts for English springer spaniels. Like other dog rescue organizations, English Springer Rescue America (ESRA) members work to save, rehabilitate, and place deserted dogs.
ESRA swooped in to rescue Maya, not knowing how the nonprofit would pay for treatment. A resourceful Wallin called Honken, her longtime veterinarian, friend, and fellow UW graduate to ask the seemingly unthinkable: If Maya showed up in Laramie, would he donate the cost of Maya’s surgeries to restore her quality of life?
Honken, raised in Laramie, earned his undergraduate degree in molecular biology from UW, received his veterinary medicine degree from Colorado State University, and worked for clinics in Utah and Kansas before following his own lead back home. He returned to Laramie, a place to which he once “swore he’d never return,” because he longed for the Wyoming way and genuine, kindhearted folks. “Yes,” he told Wallin, “bring her in.”
Volunteers traveled hours to deliver Maya to Honken’s clinic for her initial surgery. She was adopted by a Denver family with three children later that fall, and briefly returned to Honken for a second hip surgery in December.
As Christmas approached, Honken, his wife, Teri, and their children—Heather, 13, and Justin, 11—received their usual holiday mail from family and friends. And then some rather unusual holiday mail arrived. Cards from strangers poured in as ESRA members nationwide used the season to express their gratitude for their “Angel Vet.”
Moved more by the volunteers’ compassion for the animals rather than their recognition of his good deed, Honken made a deal. He told Wallin that as long as he was practicing and as long as her group continued to arrange transportation for the English springer spaniels to Laramie, he would perform needed surgeries for free. Three years later, both doctor and rescue group have lost track of the number of dogs Honken has helped. But neither has lost track of why they continue.
Honken owns several animals: two pygmy goats, six horses, 10 cats, 122
cows,
three golden retrievers, and one schnauzer—but no English springer spaniels.
“I help Kristi’s group for one reason: they try,” Honken says. “They make
an effort,
so I make an effort. These dogs would die if they didn’t get help. It makes
a difference.”
Making a difference for animals isn’t just Honken’s passion. He thinks it
may be
his destiny.
“I was kicked 11 years ago in the chest by a horse. I should have died right where I was, but I’m here for a reason. My gut feeling is maybe I’m here to help animals that would have died [without my help],” he explains. There could be some truth to his theory. Honken, who has broken more bones than he can remember, seems to have more lives than an alley cat.
The “Angel Vet” doesn’t consider his philanthropic efforts a civic duty; to him, they are simply moral and ethical. “It’s not about getting my name in the paper,” he says. “I want my kids to look at me and say, ‘Dad, you did the right thing.’”
Modest family man or veterinarian angel in disguise, UW graduate Doug Honken quietly continues to do the right thing.
