Lois, The Tenderest Sargent I Ever Did Know

My mentor, Dr. Lois Sargent, passed away a few weeks ago at the age of 58. She has so profoundly impacted my life that it has taken me until now to formulate my thoughts.

It is because of her that I am able to do the work I do today. Her deep understanding of veterinary medicine and her commitment to sharing it, her dedication to the veterinary profession, both traditional and holistic, her passion for excellence, her belief that veterinary technicians play a critical role in the health and well-being of animals and her tireless work to ensure her students became the best patient advocates we could, her astounding work ethic and her insistence that I and every other student in her tutelage could succeed if only we sweated a little bit more; these are but a few of the reasons she has forever changed the course of my life.

I am grateful for the hours spent learning from her, not only her lectures but also the kind, loving care she provided each of her patients- our dogs and cats included. If not for her patience, optimism and superb clinical skills, Galileo would not be the dog he is today. She guided him- and Omar and me- during those rough early days when he couldn’t reach his food bowl and had to be fed by hand. She encouraged us to believe, as she did, that he would walk again. And he did. And he does. And he runs circles around the other dogs.

I am proud to have called her my friend. She cultivated a tough-as-nails persona- and have no doubt, she would kick your metaphorical ass when needed- but in time, when earned and warranted, she’d let you glimpse her soft, maternal nature that guided her in more ways than she’d let most people know. Yes, her bark did have bite, but she much preferred a belly rub, but in private and after a super-secret pinkie-swear.
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Her legacy will be as varied as the people and animals she touched: her daughter whom she loved unequivocally and who carries on the family traditional of smart, independent women committed to leaving the world a little better than it was before; her many personal animals, but most especially Squishy, for whom her heart did swoon; the hundreds of students whose lives she touched; her colleagues in education who relied on her guiding hand and unwavering vision; and her colleagues in the veterinary community of South Florida, to whom she provided terrified yet earnest students every semester and a small but dedicated stable of certified veterinary technicians to hire every year.

For me, and for Omar I suspect, her greatest legacy is Galileo, our strong, confident, pain-free knucklehead who thinks there is no greater pleasure than a rock, and running through the park with it, faster than thunder and with a smile that says, “I did it”.