Renowned Seattle Veterinarian Paul Dice Was A Friend Of Peers, Pets And Their Owners

His fan club, although headquartered here, boasts hundreds of members far and wide. It ranges from professionals to children.

He established a skillful sensitivity with his patients, consequently reducing the emotional temperature of their owners. The ailing cats and dogs that came through his Animal Eye Clinic doors in the University District left like they'd been in some sort of veterinary nirvana.

Dr. Paul Dice II was one of the world's premier veterinary ophthalmologists but he never talked down to an owner and treated each patient as if it was the most important one he'd see all day. With Dice, it was a level playing field for all.

He was self-styled perfectionist and expected the best of his staffers every day. His smiling veneer and infectious energy gave you a sense everything was going to be all right, no matter how daunting the challenge.

But everything hasn't been all right for this talented, compassionate and unpretentious guy for several years.

On July 15, he lost an intense battle to non-Hodgin's lymphoma - at home. "It was most important to him that he get home," said a tearful Leah Brand, office manager. "His family meant everything to him and it was his goal to spend his final days at home with them. And typical of Paul, he succeeded."

He and I were longtime friends. We first met in 1972, the year I arrived at The Times and a couple of years after he began seeing four-legged patients at Seattle Animal Hospital and later Green Lake Animal Hospital. At those facilities, he performed orthopedic surgeries in addition to offering eye care.

We were both frontiersmen of sorts and he wouldn't let me forget it. In 1973, he became a board-certified veterinary ophthalmologist and established a referral practice at the Green Lake clinic. This was a few months after I wrote my first pets column for The Times.

Here I was an ex-sports writer, covering a professional field that hadn't been anyone's turf in town before. And here was this young veterinarian who had graduated several years earlier from Colorado State University, establishing the first veterinary specialty practice ever in Seattle.

I remember a lunch we had together in 1972. He looked me squarely in the eyes, chomping down a hamburger and said, "You and I are the new guys on the block and we can learn from each other. All I ask is that you be honest and accurate when interviewing (writing about) me."

I knew from that moment this was a guy I could trust. I'm here to tell you 27 years later, I wasn't wrong.

That was an era when veterinarians didn't advertise and were quite proprietary. Referring clients was viewed as ghastly, since it represented taking money out of your own pocket.

I was asked by the Washington State Veterinary Medical Association when mentioning practitioners' names in a column not to list their hospital's identity for fear it might be construed as free advertising.

Dr. Stan Coe of Elliott Bay Animal Hospital recalls, "When Paul became board certified, it offered the rest of us an entirely new dimension. Here was this guy who was a specialist in eye care, which, quite frankly, everyone else only had a basic knowledge of.

"Paul set a standard by which board-certified practices could be measured, not just here but nationwide. He was a huge success because of his expertise, but also because of his professionalism and compassion.

"He wasn't out to take business from anyone. He represented a chance to improve a pet's visibility and quality of life. Because he was a true professional and gentleman, most practitioners didn't have a problem sending pets to him.

"In his view, we (area veterinarians) were all part of a team that could offer clients the best of care. As the profession became more sophisticated, specialists like Paul emerged. He was quick to inform the referring veterinarian with a diagnosis and suggested course of treatment."

In the early '90s, my family's young German shepherd Alex injured an eye when she ran into the end of a rhododendron branch while in a futile pursuit of a squirrel. Fortunately, the damage was minimal. It required a referral to Dice from our Federal Way veterinarian and annual follow-up checkups. I always tried to schedule on a Saturday when I knew he was working.

It was a chance to visit for a few minutes as Alex received her exam. His demeanor with Alex never changed - soft, tender and upbeat - as they found themselves eyeball to eyeball via his state-of-the art diagnostic equipment.

As Dice became busier and traveled nationwide to present addresses on veterinary ophthalmology, we saw less and less of each other. Nevertheless, we'd drop one another a note occasionally simply to check in and say hi.

When I found out several years ago he was suffering from lymphoma, I was devastated.

We've had lunch a couple of times since, once for an interview, the other time simply to reminisce. Paul was always busy. The only way to do an interview was to get him out of the office and away from the phone.

But what do you say to a good friend who has a potentially terminal disease?

Seeing my dilemma, the eternal optimist said, "I'm gonna beat this. You know I'm not accustomed to losing. My practice makes me feel young and keeps me focused. I still enjoy it as much as when I started in the early '70s."

I wonder how many others can say the same?

"One thing this (disease) has taught me is the importance of family and friends. I tend to be a workaholic," he said with a twinkle.

Brand, the office manager, adds, "He took extremely good care of his staff. We always came first. I'll remember him as an exceptional boss and a true friend. He arranged and paid for staff outings annually to the Washington coast or Victoria, B.C."

Despite his illness, Dice managed to find enough fuel in his reserve tank to channel a bit more energy into charisma - reflected by a twinkle in his eyes or a smile. "You'd never know he was sick," said Brand. "Never a woe-is-me or a downer day. What you saw with Paul was what you got - a positive, sunny outlook. He was a true gentleman who lived every day to its fullest. He loved this place and his clients but his family and his horses were equally important."

His last day at the clinic was April 19, but he ran the place from home and never missed a beat, added Brand.

Nancy Peterson, a licensed veterinary technician and 13-year employee, adds, "He was demanding with very high standards. He was a motivator and improved my self-esteem enormously."

One of Dice's best traits was listening, said Peterson. "He encouraged everyone at the clinic to ask questions and make suggestions for any type of procedural changes that might make the business function more effectively."

When Peterson visited the eye clinic in 1982 with her golden retriever, she left saying, "I want to work for that guy." At the time, she was employed as a veterinary technician elsewhere in the area. But when she was tipped off to classified advertisement about a vet tech opening at the clinic several years later, she applied and was hired. "I was in heaven when he hired me," she added, "and I've been on Cloud 9 ever since."

Drs. Tom Sullivan and Terri McCalla, Dice's associates in the hospital, credit him with advancing their careers.

Sullivan explains, "He's been an incredible role model. He's the nicest person I've ever met, and was able to reduce the pain and improve the quality of life in most of the patients he treated.

"The entire reason I moved my family here from the East Coast was to work at his practice, which has a reputation for pure integrity."

Dice represented a rock to McCalla. "While he was my mentor, it feels like I've lost by a friend, a brother and a father. He was the first one to call me Dr. McCalla. I remember him checking out some patients in the office, bringing me in a few minutes later and introducing me, `This is Dr. McCalla. She is visiting from Washington State University.' Here was one of the best veterinary ophthalmologists in the country making a veterinary student feel like a doctor for the first time.

"Obtaining a residency in veterinary ophthalmology is incredibly competitive. And through the three years it took to finally be accepted into a program, he believed in me and provided letters of recommendation.

"That was Paul, he never gave up and for that I'm eternally grateful. Quite frankly, I owe my career to him."

To Dr. Ken Sinibaldi, Seattle veterinary orthopedic surgeon and longtime peer, Dice was a friend and coach. "He helped guide me and my partner into a referral clinic in 1980 (the first here after Dice's). He was never too busy to answer a question or offer a suggestion," Sinibaldi explained. "There were the philosophical issues dealing with referrals and the angst of building a clinic. It's a mammoth undertaking and Paul was the only one person locally who had ventured that route.

"He was your consummate professional, but more important, a quality guy."