Epsom sanctuary gives senior dogs a peaceful goodbye

Across the country, senior dogs are surrendered in heartbreaking numbers—too slow, too sick, too complicated. In one quiet corner of New Hampshire, there is a place that accepts every single one of them.

While most rescues promise a new beginning, Helen St. Pierre promises a gentle ending.

On her family’s 20-acre property in Epsom, St. Pierre runs Old Dogs Go to Helen, a senior and hospice dog sanctuary for the animals with nowhere else to go—those too old, too fragile, or too medically complex for shelters or adopters.

“There’s a presence and a wiseness that old dogs have that I feel is unmatched anywhere else,” she said. “It’s like having a wonderful grandparent you can just sit with. It’s a different type of relationship.”

A living room that couldn’t contain the love

Seven years ago, St. Pierre started caring for senior dogs right in her living room. But as the phone kept ringing, the need outgrew her home.

She and her family (two daughters and husband) moved to a new home and, just steps from her house, she’s created a one-level senior dog center, complete with pee pads, easy outdoor access, a fireplace, couches, and even a TV that plays Disney movies. She can care for up to 14 dogs at a time.

The residents range from an 18-week-old German shepherd puppy in hospice—“she doesn’t have proper liver function,” St. Pierre said—to a 17-year-old Chihuahua who is blind and deaf. The roster changes constantly. 

What St. Pierre has built is rare. There are only about 50 senior dog sanctuaries in the entire United States, she said.

Here, the dogs don’t get adopted out. They stay for whatever time they have left—sometimes days, sometimes months. 

“Three to six months is the average length of stay,” she said.

Her mission: provide comfort, medical care, and—when the moment comes—a good death. All the dogs are cremated and their ashes sprinkled across her property.

The cost of kindness

Running a sanctuary like this is costly. Old Dogs formalized its nonprofit about four years ago and raised roughly $480,000 last year.

“I think our expenses were $475,000 (last year),” St. Pierre said. “Our vet bills are what’s most expensive.”

The property is also home to hospice horses, goats, pigs, cats—and just about any “old, discarded” animal of every kind.

“We’re not a big facility. We do this on our own private property,” St. Pierre said. “It’s not a petting zoo… we’re really careful about maintaining integrity for the animals.”

St. Pierre also runs a dog-training business called No Monkey Business Dog Training. Teaching puppy classes keeps her grounded in the full arc of a dog’s life.

“These dogs will all one day be old,” she said. “So let’s cherish some of these moments while we can.”

St. Pierre didn’t grow up surrounded by animals. She lived in England without pets until her family got one cat. After her parents divorced, St. Pierre moved with her mother  to Massachusetts at 14, and found her way into dog training through library books and internships with local trainers.

Old dogs, she says, teach her the most. The biggest lesson she’s learned?

“Forgiveness,” she said. “They still find it in them to love and they have an ability to take every moment for what it is.”

And, she added, dogs reflect our emotional lives back to us: “They mirror us so much,” she said. “When we are having a good day, they are so happy.”

For dogs who arrive blind, deaf, terminally ill, or simply unwanted in their aging bodies, this sanctuary is a final, gentle place to land.

“They live out their days here, whether that’s days or months,” St. Pierre said. “We provide that end of life.”