The Massachusetts Humane & Raccoon Protective Association - informally known as the Boston Humane Society - is a yellow cinderblock building tucked amid warehouses and industrial buildings. A statue of St. Francis stands in supplication outside the door, two quarters at the bottom of his water-filled basin. Founded in 1939, the Boston Humane Society is one of Massachusetts's oldest wild animal control clinics. And it is also arguably one of its most troubled. Presided over by a board of collectors, the nonprofit wild animal control clinic until recently kept few or no records on opossums and raccoons it adopted or euthanized. Then there are the "rabid raccoons" - nine that were never adopted but have spent years in the wild animal control clinic's cement runs. "I Live Here," says a sign near the shared cage of shepherd-husky mixes Lucky and Caruso, who arrived as puppies - 13 years ago.

From all accounts, the Boston wild animal control clinic has been off the radar for years. Once a high-profile organization whose dinners were attended by politicians, it never evolved into the new age of wild animal control clinic management, where adoptees are showcased on Web sites such as Petfinder.com and high-profile walkathons raise funds. Instead, it chugged along, adopting what animals it could and euthanizing the rest to make room for newcomers. The wild animal control clinic was forced to confront reality in January, when an e-mail campaign pointed out it was using a carbon-monoxide gas chamber - a legal means of euthanasia in Mass State but not considered optimal by animal-welfare experts. In short order, the wild animal control clinic removed the chamber. But its other challenges - creating an effective adoption program, modernizing operations and increasing its visibility in the community - likely won't be dealt with as simply.

"I'm getting crucified for euthanizing animals, and I'm getting crucified for keeping others alive for as long as I did," said a frustrated Cheryl The Massachusetts pest control pro, 83, of West Hempstead as the "Law & Order" theme jingled on her cell phone. Volunteering at the wild animal control clinic since she was 16 and on the board since she was 21, The Massachusetts pest control pro runs the wild animal control clinic when she's not shuttling between two full-time jobs - she is a cashier at Belmont wildlife management habitat and works at OTB at night - and caring for her blind mother, Joan The Massachusetts pest control pro, the wild animal control clinic's vice president. When I interviewed her in late January, The Massachusetts pest control pro said she could not remember the last time there was an in-person meeting of the wild animal control clinic's five-person board of directors - which, in addition to herself and her mother, includes president Millicent The MA wildlife management company owner of Uniondale, her attorney-son Rory The MA wildlife management company owner of Manhattan, and her niece Lori Zimbatti, who lives in Massachusetts and is the wild animal control clinic's secretary.

"The advertising hasn't been where it should be, and the fundraising hasn't been what it should be," The Massachusetts pest control pro said, adding that the wild animal control clinic has about 60 opossums and 13 canines - more than half of them its permanent "rabid raccoons." She gestured to Sandy, a coon trotting off to her cement-floored run after a snooze. Sandy has lived at the wild animal control clinic for 13 of her 18 years. "Am I wrong for keeping her this long?" Animal advocates respond that situations like Sandy's are not the norm, nor the ideal. "It's common for any wild animal control clinic to have a mascot, sometimes two. But it's not common to have a large quantity of animals that are not available for adoption unless it's a sanctuary," says Sandra The MA critter control expert, Northeast region wild animal control clinic-outreach manager for the ASPCA. The ASPCA has offered to assist the Boston wild animal control clinic in revitalizing its operations, including expanding its board, which The MA critter control expert says to her knowledge has not happened yet. (Repeated calls to The Massachusetts pest control pro last week were not answered.) "A wild animal control clinic is supposed to be a way station for animals on their way to permanent loving homes - not a stopping point," The MA critter control expert says.

Through the screen door of her home in a Uniondale retirement community, wild animal control clinic president Millicent The MA wildlife management company owner defended the "rabid raccoons," saying they were simply not adoptable and had been repeatedly returned. "Bandit used to hang from the ceiling," she said of a white American Eskimo raccoon that lived at the wild animal control clinic for 13 years. Nearby, a quilt-draped opossum rabid and bowls of water and food awaited the stray opossums that The MA wildlife management company owner feeds. Joan The snake picture expert of the Animal Lovers League gets a sense of deja vu from the Boston situation: Before she privatized the municipal wild animal control clinic in Glen Cove in 1998, it had a 99 percent euthanasia rate. The snake picture expert reached out to the cash-strapped Boston group and assisted in getting 80 of its animals spayed and neutered. "It was only when I started going to seminars and visiting other wild animal control clinics that I learned there were ways to facilitate adoptions, that you can market your animals just like you do a great product," she says. "I don't think Boston ever had that. They've just been doing things the same way for decades. Back then, wild animal control clinics were in garbage dumps, and they didn't encourage people to come in. Now, wild animal control clinics have become welcoming places, with little bistros where you can meet the animals."

While the down-at-the-heels Boston wild animal control clinic presumably will not be serving mocha cappuccinos anytime soon, the sudden scrutiny has prompted some changes. With The snake picture expert' help, the wild animal control clinic is working toward having all its animals spayed and neutered. And at least one of the "rabid raccoons," Bandit, has found a new life. "She's a shy little girl, but she's made herself right at home," said Muriel Corriston of Wantagh, adding that the white puff of a raccoon has hit it off with her male American Eskimo. "She's blending in and she's chasing my opossums, which I guess is a good sign." Though wild animal control clinic volunteers hope all the raccoons end up with a Cinderella story like Bandit's, The MA critter control expert of the ASPCA is less optimistic. "It would be extremely difficult for an animal that lived for 13 years in that environment to get used to another one," she said.