Neighborhoods - Grady Hospital for pets

Chamblee’s WellPet Humane strives to help pets without breaking bank accounts

Pets can be great equalizers. You can be a day laborer or a captain of industry and still transform into baby-talking softy in the presence of a doggie or a kitty. Consequently, the waiting rooms of WellPet Humane reveal a cross section of the Chamblee community, from the heavily tattooed Latino guy with the cat carrier to the Asian-American mom and daughters cooing over their fluffy lapdog to the white lady of a certain age in the Pittsburgh Steelers hoodie with a chunky black Lab.

The nonprofit veterinary clinic offers discount medical care based on the pet owners’ financial needs, but still serves a more diverse public than you might expect. “We qualify our clients, but just because people drive a Mercedes, that doesn’t mean they’re not financially struggling. People can make $100,000 a year and be on the brink of bankruptcy. We just want to help the pets,” says Bob Christiansen, former director of the DeKalb Humane Society and now president of WellPet.

Christiansen founded WellPet in 2008 with Dr. Amy Orlin, the clinic’s medical director (and his wife). “We were going for the 25 percent of the market who can’t afford to go to the standard vet,” he says. “Then the economy took a dive, and that amount became closer to 40 percent. Some are underemployed and the working poor, and their pets can suffer for it. We call it ‘economic euthanasia.’”

WellPet, which consists of treatment and surgery centers as well as a wellness center for vaccines and preventive medicine, shares a block on Peachtree Road with ZenTea Tea Shop and My Sister’s Closet boutique, at the former site of the Chamblee bank. “We opened it in Chamblee because of the socioeconomic mix that it historically has,” Christiansen explains, having chosen a location convenient to the immigrant communities along Buford Highway. “Since then we brought on a Spanish-speaking vet, vet tech, and client-service person to handle the phones. We would like to reach out more to the Asian community.”

The soft lighting and mustard-colored walls make the lobby look less bright and clinical than many vets. In the back rooms, vet techs attach the cones of shame to recently treated clients, while a surgical vet neuters a cat with a black anesthesia mask attached to its muzzle. Christiansen says that WellPet treats a high enough quantity of pets to make the nonprofit model work. “We do enough volume to keep our doors open, and we need volume to make it,” he says. “Through word of mouth, it’s expanded beyond our anticipation. We started with limited space and five employees, and now have about 30.”

WellPet’s staff has found that people often become closer to their pets when times are hard. Christiansen particularly remembers a client named Johnny Cash, a dreadlocked, initially intimidating African-American man, who brought in a cocker spaniel that was in really bad shape. “We gave him a lot of veterinary medicine at a reasonable rate. All he had was $125, and when my wife asked, ‘Do you have any more money?’ he said, ‘No, I just came from the pawn shop.’ He was giving all his money in the world to his dog, so my wife gave him $10 back for gas.”

The clinic has received clients from as far as Alabama, but primarily serves the greater Atlanta area: Christiansen compares it to Grady Hospital for animals. “Poor people know about us, but rich people don’t. That’s in keeping with a nonprofit mission, but like many nonprofits, we’d like to be supported with donations.” In its mission to return Chamblee’s ailing animal populace back to their dog parks and windowsills, WellPet would appreciate a little humane assistance.