The Heart of HLCR

The people who show up for HLCR boots on the ground have always been at the center of our rescue. This is the story of one long-standing volunteer and a decade of dedication to the dogs who need it most.

After selling his startup in 2014, Mike thought he had found his path to a peaceful retirement. Consulting seemed like the perfect transition, a way to ease into the next chapter. Instead, he found himself working long hours, unable to say no when asked to help. By 2016, he knew something had to change.

Stepping back to reassess, Mike asked himself what truly mattered beyond his passion for engineering and technology. “I always loved animals,” he says. “Everyone calls me a dog whisperer but actually I can connect with birds, cats, you name it.”  As he began considering veterinary medicine, Mike envisioned a life providing care to animals in need.

Reality arrived swiftly when he spoke with those in and around the field. They warned him about the hard choices, but not the ones he expected. In Texas, they explained, dogs are property. When an owner faces an expensive treatment plan versus a much lower cost for euthanasia, economics often wins. That answer didn't sit right with him.

Mike has worked with countless animals at HLCR and beyond over the years.

Instead, Mike turned to volunteering. He tried various rescues in the Central Texas; every rescue he could reasonably reach from his home in Lakeway. Within six months, he had dropped them all except one. HLCR was different. This was a place where he could train dogs, interact with them deeply, and most importantly, help the ones considered beyond help by everyone else's standards. These were the dogs slated for euthanasia elsewhere, the ones who needed someone to believe in them. HLCR did things differently than the other shelters he had volunteered at. “It was exactly the sweet spot,” he says.

What set HLCR apart wasn't just the mission but the feeling of hope that permeated the place. At other shelters, leaving felt uncertain and heavy, the weight of caged animals and limited resources following Mike home. He would have needed a hundred acres to adopt one dog every week, eventually becoming "the weird dog guy" with a thousand rescues. But that wasn't realistic. Mike needed somewhere he could feel good not only about the work he did, but about what happened when he left. HLCR offered that rare combination: impact and hope in equal measure.

One surprise awaited Mike when he started volunteering: he was the only man. For several years, in a field mainly comprised of women, Mike became the crash test dummy for every fearful, male-abused dog that came through the doors. It was tough at first. Mike was accustomed to strange dogs approaching him with immediate trust, tails wagging before a word was spoken. Now he faced dogs cowering in corners, wanting to reach out but paralyzed by fear. The stark reality was that most abusers are men, and these dogs carried that trauma in their bodies. Mike had to repeatedly prove that not all men were dangerous.

Mike and Briggs

Barry's story captures the magic of those moments. A large tan and white dog with a worried face, Barry was terrified of men. When the kennel manager asked Mike to engage Barry, he sat quietly in Barry's pen. Within ten minutes, the transformation began: Barry went from trembling against the wall to curling up near Mike's lap. Yet with other male staff members, Barry remained fearful and distant. A male tech who fed Barry twice daily, joked about the absurdity: "You see him three times a week, and he loves you to death. I see him every day, and he can't stand me." They even made a video of releasing Barry from his pen, saying, "Go get your friend." Barry raced to Mike, tackling him with a wiggling bottom and pure joy. When Barry was adopted by a woman who already had a gray and white dog that looked nearly identical to him, it felt like destiny. Full circle, perfect, and deeply satisfying.

Mike has witnessed countless connections like this over the years. He has come to believe that chemistry between dogs and people goes deeper than training or circumstance. At the adoption center, the awkward, shy dog often finds the awkward, shy person. The high energy dog gravitates toward the enthusiastic adopter. It's not nurturing shaping the dog after adoption but recognition happening in that first meeting. They sense each other's nature and relax into the understanding: here is someone like me, that compliments me. For Mike, his energy seems to work both ways. High energy dogs find someone who can match them, while more anxious dogs draw strength and confidence from his presence.

The hardest part of this work remains the same after so long: not being able to take them all home. There are still dogs at HLCR with behavioral challenges that Mike knows can be worked through, dogs that will thrive with the right person but struggle to find adopters. If he had three hundred acres, perhaps he would take them all. But he doesn't, so he shows up week after week, offering what he can: time, patience, and an inexplicable gift for connection.

Mike and Marnie

What keeps Mike coming back is the certainty that there will always be a new twist, a new challenge, a new dog that needs exactly what he offers. At HLCR, he gets to participate in the healing journey of animals who likely wouldn’t have made it otherwise. And beyond the dogs themselves, there's the community of people who love them just as fiercely. For many, the shelter is just as vital to humans as it is to the dogs in its care.

For those considering volunteering, Mike's advice is simple: The first step isn't as big as it seems. Even kids, who with their parents might only be able to commit to a couple hours a week, have been profoundly shaped by this work. The impact is immeasurable. After a decade of showing up, opening his heart to sick and fearful dogs, and forging the path for countless other volunteers, Mike has found something he never expected when he first began his search for purpose all those years ago: a group of people dedicated to the love and care of the most vulnerable among us. 

When asked what’s one thing he would want everyone to know about volunteering at HLCR, Mike says, “You will get far more than you give. The return on investment is something you can’t even wrap your head around.”

HLCR dogs put their best paws forward at an adoption event with Mike's guidance.

Want to make a difference for HLCR dogs? Find out how at www.hlcr.org/volunteer.