The text message seemed legit.

Bank of America was asking Jake St. Pierre about his recent banking history. Had he withdrawn a substantial amount of money from one of its accounts? While in Georgia?

No, he hadn’t.

And, to make matters worse, the “bank” had a warning for Jake and his wife, Helen St. Pierre. An account with $9,500 – money needed by the St. Pierres to give love and comfort to dying dogs at their Epsom farm – could also be compromised at any moment.

The texts and emails looked OK to Jake and Helen, the usual stuff they’d seen before.

Plus, the digital readout on their phone matched the phone number of their real bank, and the caller claimed to be from the bank’s fraud department. It all seemed legal.

They agreed to allow the “bank” access to those two accounts. They were given a code and told to call back and use it 24 hours later. Their money would be safe. Moved to another, separate account.

Needless to say, the next morning, the money was gone.

“We have a month’s worth of expenses set aside, and that was our rainy-day nest,” said Helen, who lives on a 20-acre farm in Epsom with Jake and owns a variety of animals. “That comes from the donations we get on a daily basis. We use it for veterinarian visits and medication.”

She and Jake run Old Dogs Go to Helen. They have enough animals – many in fine health, many, all dogs, near the end of the line – to fill a Biblical ark, and they talk to their animals more than anyone this side of Dr. Dolittle.

Seven cats, five goats, two sheep, seven pigs, two donkeys, seven geese and an unknown number of chickens. Helen and Jake retrieve eggs each morning. They hope to be milking their goats by spring. Their animals are pets, part of the family. The couple has two daughters, ages 5 and 12, who love the all the activity.

Meanwhile, their dogs are split into two categories: mainstream, live-in-the-main-house dogs, of which there are 14, and 20 dogs who live in the lap of luxury while fighting all sorts of diseases. Or they’re old and near death.

“Everything that happens when your body gets old,” Helen said.

Some have been found outdoors, left for dead.

The dogs live in a large room, called the living room by the St. Pierres, with a woodstove, plenty of room to romp, toys, plenty of food and even more belly rubs. A ramp leads them to the Old Dog Space, complete with a canopy for shade, beds and time to study the geese, honking right outside a fence.

The scene is cute, happy actually, with dogs jumping and barking and begging for attention. But it’s hard to discard what the near future holds for each. Fletch is a small white dog, blind and deaf. Molly has cancer. Mr. Petey has spinal issues and pees everywhere, to the point where he’s now Mr. Pee Pee Petey. Mr. Fritzie has tumors.

“You have to find the silver lining,” Jake said, “so we give them the best lives that we can until it’s time for the end.”

The $9,500 stolen was earmarked for these 20 dogs. For food, laundry, bedding, pee pads, medicine, vet visits, deep cleaning once per week and more food. Helen said the public has been most generous during fundraising efforts.

She’s hoping publicity might help her cause financially, of course, but she’s telling her story to warn anyone and everyone that the scammers are good, very believable and completely heartless.

According to the Federal Trade Commission, New Hampshire residents were defrauded nearly 8,000 times last year, totaling more than $18 million.

Beware.

“These people are good at what they do,” Helen said. “We were very familiar with how it works; Jake got a text that looked identical to the texts we get all the time.

“It felt so violating.”

To donate, visit www.olddogsgotohelen.com.

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