September 3, 2011
336 Mill Ridge Rd
Everett, PA 15537
Dear Everyone at LaVale Veterinary Hospital:
Sitting in your waiting area numerous times in the past fifteen plus years has been a heartwarming experience. I have learned many things. First and foremost is the realization that virtually every pet owner feels their pet is the number 1 best one on the planet. Observing how the owners look at, talk to, and interact with their pets confirms this.
Although I knew only a couple of your myriad of clients I encountered over the years, it was heartening to get a warm smile, an admiring glance—NOT me, but Scuba—and, of course, the many friendly pats on his head and queries about his age, name, etc.
In your waiting room—in your clinic—in your exam rooms, there is an aura of warmth and concern—and it is genuine and sincere; the best part is that your entire staff exudes this.
Let’s face it, doting and over-indulging pet owners can be a pain in the rear. I can only imagine how many ridiculous phone calls and questions you field each day. Yikes! And I am sure that I have given you my fair share.
I would suspect that most, if not all, of your staff would say that LVH is a great place to work. This type of atmosphere usually originates from the top on down, and only comes when those at the top respect and admire their staff, and expect that everyone is an integral and valuable member of the Team.
I have also learned that some pet owners should probably not be pet owners. Like the client whose dog leaped or fell out of the back of his moving pick-up truck and expected all of you to piece it back together. Or the fool—oh boy, that would be me—who was inattentive while his dog lapped up antifreeze from the garage floor. As Forrest Gump said, “Stupid is as stupid does!”
Our first Golden, Woolly Bear, although a fearless and accomplished hunting companion—on her first pheasant hunt she grabbed a rooster right out of the air as it took flight and proudly brought it over and handed it to me—was terrified to go to our (then) veterinary clinic. She trembled anytime we drove past the place and I had to drag her—kicking, biting, and “screaming”—into the place.
Scuba, on the other hand, would start squealing (the excited, happy type) whenever we approached LVH. He eagerly and proudly pranced into the office acting like he was King Farouche (only the older staff members will have any idea what I am talking about).
Even after the antifreeze saga, with the four painful days he spent at LVH, Scuba still eagerly looked forward to his visits. I think he felt the same way we do about LVH.
Scuba was always one to show-boat and get noticed—he bathed in the attention that was lavished upon him. The ladies at Hometown Bank chummed him with two or three biscuits each time we went through the drive-up window. They said, “He is way too handsome!”
When he was ten years old, and finally had mellowed to the point that his on demand 4WD began to lose some traction, I decided to take him to Altoona to one of their hotsie kennel clubs that was hosting the AKC Canine Good Citizen designation tests.
Every one of those dogs had been in the same training class and knew and had practiced all the 11 or 12 tasks required to earn the designation. Scuba dragged me through the door and immediately snatched cookies off the table of human treats. He was so out of control that I could hardly complete the application and manage him at the same time.
They were all snickering and laughing at us. But we got the last laugh—when he entered the gym, I took off his leash and he breezed through all their requirements with only my hand signals to guide him. The place went wild when he finished and he relished in the standing ovation he received. (That’s my boy!!!!!)
So add me to the list of those who think their dog is/was the best in the whole world. Scuba will be a very hard act to follow, but down the road, when the tears fade and the memories are cemented in love and admiration, we will quit pitying ourselves and get another Golden.
Right now all this is way too painful to think about. Our house is so empty and so quiet. I feel like part of me died yesterday. Actually, I know it did.
Barb and I (and Scuba) will be eternally grateful for all the wonderful care, love, and concern shown us at LVH.
Best regards,
Bill Benigni
336 Mill Ridge Rd
Everett, PA 15537
Dear Everyone at LaVale Veterinary Hospital:
Sitting in your waiting area numerous times in the past fifteen plus years has been a heartwarming experience. I have learned many things. First and foremost is the realization that virtually every pet owner feels their pet is the number 1 best one on the planet. Observing how the owners look at, talk to, and interact with their pets confirms this.
Although I knew only a couple of your myriad of clients I encountered over the years, it was heartening to get a warm smile, an admiring glance—NOT me, but Scuba—and, of course, the many friendly pats on his head and queries about his age, name, etc.
In your waiting room—in your clinic—in your exam rooms, there is an aura of warmth and concern—and it is genuine and sincere; the best part is that your entire staff exudes this.
Let’s face it, doting and over-indulging pet owners can be a pain in the rear. I can only imagine how many ridiculous phone calls and questions you field each day. Yikes! And I am sure that I have given you my fair share.
I would suspect that most, if not all, of your staff would say that LVH is a great place to work. This type of atmosphere usually originates from the top on down, and only comes when those at the top respect and admire their staff, and expect that everyone is an integral and valuable member of the Team.
I have also learned that some pet owners should probably not be pet owners. Like the client whose dog leaped or fell out of the back of his moving pick-up truck and expected all of you to piece it back together. Or the fool—oh boy, that would be me—who was inattentive while his dog lapped up antifreeze from the garage floor. As Forrest Gump said, “Stupid is as stupid does!”
Our first Golden, Woolly Bear, although a fearless and accomplished hunting companion—on her first pheasant hunt she grabbed a rooster right out of the air as it took flight and proudly brought it over and handed it to me—was terrified to go to our (then) veterinary clinic. She trembled anytime we drove past the place and I had to drag her—kicking, biting, and “screaming”—into the place.
Scuba, on the other hand, would start squealing (the excited, happy type) whenever we approached LVH. He eagerly and proudly pranced into the office acting like he was King Farouche (only the older staff members will have any idea what I am talking about).
Even after the antifreeze saga, with the four painful days he spent at LVH, Scuba still eagerly looked forward to his visits. I think he felt the same way we do about LVH.
Scuba was always one to show-boat and get noticed—he bathed in the attention that was lavished upon him. The ladies at Hometown Bank chummed him with two or three biscuits each time we went through the drive-up window. They said, “He is way too handsome!”
When he was ten years old, and finally had mellowed to the point that his on demand 4WD began to lose some traction, I decided to take him to Altoona to one of their hotsie kennel clubs that was hosting the AKC Canine Good Citizen designation tests.
Every one of those dogs had been in the same training class and knew and had practiced all the 11 or 12 tasks required to earn the designation. Scuba dragged me through the door and immediately snatched cookies off the table of human treats. He was so out of control that I could hardly complete the application and manage him at the same time.
They were all snickering and laughing at us. But we got the last laugh—when he entered the gym, I took off his leash and he breezed through all their requirements with only my hand signals to guide him. The place went wild when he finished and he relished in the standing ovation he received. (That’s my boy!!!!!)
So add me to the list of those who think their dog is/was the best in the whole world. Scuba will be a very hard act to follow, but down the road, when the tears fade and the memories are cemented in love and admiration, we will quit pitying ourselves and get another Golden.
Right now all this is way too painful to think about. Our house is so empty and so quiet. I feel like part of me died yesterday. Actually, I know it did.
Barb and I (and Scuba) will be eternally grateful for all the wonderful care, love, and concern shown us at LVH.
Best regards,
Bill Benigni