Monday, January 19, 2026
Column 706
Confessions of a Charity Hustler – How Compassion Became a Business
Imagine this…
You get an email.
There’s a photo of a half-dead puppy. Crusted eyes. A twisted leg. Maybe a catchy name like Lucky.
Below it, a big friendly DONATE NOW button.
The copy promises your $25 will save Lucky – and others just like him.
You click. You give. You feel good.
And that’s exactly the point.
Let me be clear upfront: I’m not talking about all animal charities. I’m talking about the ones that use animals as props and turn heartbreak and “compassion” into a revenue stream.
I love beer. I love darts. I love a good Cuban cigar.
And yes, I love animals. Dart players do too. Like 66% of all Americans, most dart players share their home with a dog or a cat. Many donate to help organizations that help animals and people. Internationally, John Lowe, Keith Deller and Deta Hedman top the list. In the US, nobody comes close to the efforts of Gary Yourman who is on the cusp of passing $1 million raised for the New Jersey Make-A-Wish Foundation.
But this column isn’t about love.
It’s about lies.
And about how some “charities” – note the quotation marks – are master manipulators. Con artists. Grifters. This is the exposé they hope you’ll scroll past.
Here’s what’s far too often happening behind the scenes – based on disturbingly real trends I’ve witnessed over nearly 50 years working in fundraising and non-profit consulting:
We never expected the animal thing to work this well. But sad dogs? JACKPOT! It’s a bullseye every time. Throw up a carousel of mangy mutts on Facebook, use AI to crank out a sob story, and boom – money flies in faster than Luke Littler hitting 180s..
We run a tight operation: 10–20% of donations go to direct “animal-related expenses” – gas, a little kibble, some meds.
The other 80–90%? Salaries, admin, first-class airfare, and premier hotels for “field visits.”
Of course, we tell you the opposite.
People ask for transparency. We send a glossy pie chart with” Saving Lives” taking up the biggest slice. Technically true – we’re just saving our own lives from ever having to get real jobs.
Do we feel bad? Sometimes.
Then another donation rolls in from someone who believes animals have “only us” to rely on, and the guilt slips away.
Sounds ridiculous, right?
If only.
I’ve seen it.
You’ve probably suspected it.
High-salaried executives blasting desperate appeals about starving dogs in some far corner of the globe – all while living lives that look nothing like the crises they’re selling.
And yes, there are real heroes out there. Volunteers pulling animals out of floods, fires, and monsoons. Veterinarians working for free. Local rescuers bleeding, sweating, and breaking their backs for starving, abused or injured animals no one else sees. Those are the darters who step up when it matters – hitting doubles when the game’s on the line.
Support them.
Ask questions. Look at financials. Check with charitable oversite groups like Charity Navigator. If a group won’t tell you how much they spend on salaries, it’s probably too much. If they won’t tell you – honestly – what percentage of donations goes directly to helping animals, it’s probably very little. If every photo is graphic, if every appeal is urgent but little ever seems to change, you’re likely funding a performance, not a rescue.
Run.
Don’t get played like a pub rookie who just hit their first bullseye.
Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: real rescue work doesn’t scale cleanly. It’s messy. It’s inefficient. It’s human. And it rarely makes for pretty marketing. If an organization looks flawless, always urgent, always triumphant – ask yourself why. Real rescuers are too busy saving animals to perfect the pitch.
So, stay sharp out there.
Darts aren’t the only thing that can stick you.
Stay thirsty, my friends.
Dartoid
