This is the second of two articles commemorating National Pet Week, which runs from May 4–10. My warning about private equity’s increased control of the pet care industry can be found here.
Golden Retrievers live charmed lives. They are decidedly among the warmest and kindest in the canine world, and the only known risk of owning one is loving the dog to death. I’ve repeatedly seen videos of parents trusting the family Golden to play unsupervised with their toddlers.
But Goldens have another trait that I’ve rarely seen acknowledged or written about: They can be remarkably stubborn, sometimes insisting on having things their way—or no way at all. For the longest time, I thought this trait was unique to my English Cream Golden, Ben Jr., and a reflection of my own shortcomings as a dog parent. But in recent months, I’ve come across videos of other Goldens channeling their inner Shawn Fain, staging sit-down strikes until they get what they want.
Goldens have two main methods of staging these strikes, both demonstrated in the videos I’ve sprinkled throughout this post. One is to sit back and place all their weight on their hind legs, making them effectively immovable. For good measure, when Ben Jr. pulls this move, he gives me a defiant stare that clearly says, “I double dare you to try lifting or moving me.”
The other method is for a Golden to lie on its back with its paws in the air, making it almost impossible to lift them.
The upside to a Golden’s stubbornness is that it can serve as a warning signal to a dog parent—like many dog lovers, I humanize Ben Jr. and consider him family, not property—that something isn’t right or could be potentially dangerous. That’s how I discovered something was amiss at a doggie daycare facility I had taken Ben Jr. to years ago, when he was still a puppy.
Typically, I would just drop Ben Jr. off and be quickly on my way. But one day, I left my phone on the reception desk and returned to retrieve it. I walked in to discover someone lifting Ben Jr. and forcibly taking him to the room for puppies and small dogs. I subsequently found out that Ben Jr. had previously scaled a wall to escape—apparently the first dog ever to achieve the feat.
I immediately took Ben Jr. home, and we never returned.
Club Med for Canines
Thanks to a chance encounter with a fellow dog parent while walking Ben Jr., I later learned of a place within a 10-minute drive from my home that, in its day, was a godsend. I’m not going to mention the name because the place has since deteriorated, so for reference’s sake, let’s just call it “Canine Club Med.”
When I first took Ben Jr. there years ago, Canine Club Med was a doggie daycare paradise. It featured both indoor and outdoor facilities and offered a wide range of playground equipment for dogs to enjoy. During the summer months, the facility added wading pools and sprinklers so the dogs could frolic and stay cool.
Canine Club Med’s staff was initially very friendly, professional, experienced, and—most importantly—consistent. The place was owned by a couple, and the strikingly beautiful wife—we’ll call her Isha (not her real name, but representative of her country of origin)—was on-site for a good portion of most days. It was a very welcoming environment for both me and, more importantly, Ben Jr., who would make a beeline for the yard with such excitement that he’d invariably bump his head because he couldn’t wait for the door to fully open.
But last year, things changed noticeably at Canine Club Med. The once-friendly front desk staff disappeared, replaced by individuals who were far less welcoming and engaging. One woman was so dour and snarly that even Starbucks might not have hired her. There were constant issues with my being charged for visits that never occurred. Isha, who had always resolved my billing concerns, was nowhere to be found.
The final straw came when I discovered that Ben Jr.’s groomer—whose name was also Eric and with whom he had formed a close bond—had left, supposedly just days after I confirmed he still worked there and purchased a package of discounted visits. I blew a gasket when I learned of Eric’s departure, and Isha’s husband just happened to be present.
“You’re always complaining,” the jerk responded. “There are plenty of other places you can take your dog if you don’t like how we run this one.”
When I told Cousin Rob about the exchange, he immediately said: “You can’t go back to that place. This is Los Angeles—there are plenty of celebrities with dogs. Find out where they take their dogs and go there.”
As an aside, I later learned that Isha had cancer, which is why she hadn’t been around. I also discovered that the slow-feeder bowl I had been assured Ben Jr. was using for several years had never actually been used.
Doggie daycare capital
I live in a forlorn area of west Los Angeles called Rancho Park, a gentrifying neighborhood of modern homes mixed with dilapidated houses built decades ago that developers are chomping at the bit to tear down. (Full Disclosure: I bought one of the first modern homes.) The area is overrun with seemingly sketchy massage places, mattress and eyeglass stores, mostly lousy and increasingly failing restaurants, and a dwindling number of bank branches. The area’s biggest selling point is easy access to both of LA’s major freeways.
For reasons unknown, just a mile to the west is possibly the doggie daycare capital of the world. There is easily more than a dozen of them, so one might expect competition would be intense. That’s seemingly not the case.
One afternoon Ben Jr. and I toured the local facilities, and each one seemed more depressing than the next. The ones we visited were all indoors, and the staff made the baristas at area Starbucks seem animated and engaged. One young woman barely looked up from her cell phone, hyper focused watching online videos. Another place wouldn’t allow me to tour the facilities, insisting I could observe only watching the facility’s video monitors. The places that allowed me to observe their spaces were crowded with sad looking dogs that didn’t seem well cared for and might have preferred the local pet shelters, of which there are several nearby.
There was no way I’d entrust Ben Jr. to the care of any of the facilities I visited. I went home dejected, thinking it would be years before I could travel again because I’d have no place to leave Ben Jr.
“Come on over”
I went online to search for the best doggie daycare places in Los Angeles, thinking I’d have to go beyond my neighborhood to find one. I came across a place with rave reviews called West LA Dogs, which, surprisingly, was less than a seven-minute drive from my home—on a street lined with industrial warehouses and, of course, a dog training facility and an animal rescue shelter.
I called, and an effervescent young woman named CJ promptly answered the phone. I told her I was looking for a doggie daycare and asked if I could come by to tour the facility.
“No problem,” CJ replied. “Come on over.”
I was there within minutes, and CJ greeted me with her trademark smile. She gave me a tour of the facility and didn’t mind my many questions. I quickly learned that she’d been with West LA Dogs for three years, and that most of the staff had worked there for several years as well.
West LA Dogs is an expansive facility with both indoor and outdoor areas, where dogs can roam freely. The dogs in the yard appeared well cared for, and I was heartened to see several Golden Retrievers.
I was impressed—but being the nervous Nellie that I am, I needed some additional reassurance. I stood outside for nearly 30 minutes, interviewing owners who were either dropping off their dogs or picking them up, asking what they thought of the place.
“I love this place, and so does my dog,” was a representative response.
Ben Jr. Approved!
When I first took Ben Jr. to West LA Dogs, he was hesitant to follow a staff member into the yard. When I returned four hours later to pick him up—I opted for the half-day rate—he seemed happy to be going home. He was less cautious entering the yard the next day, and by the third visit, he couldn’t get in fast enough. Indeed, when I picked him up, Ben Jr. didn’t want to leave and did his Shawn Fain schtick.
I quickly became comfortable with the place, whose front desk staff is consistently welcoming. Like CJ, several of them have worked at West LA Dogs for years.
A few weeks ago, I felt comfortable enough to leave Ben Jr. for several days at West LA Dogs after they assured me he could sleep in the yard overnight, rather than in the oversized crates where most dogs are placed when the facility closes. Many dogs appreciate the privacy of the crates, but Ben Jr. is very social and has resisted being crated—even as a puppy. The staff also promised that Ben Jr. wouldn’t be crated for meals but would instead eat in a private suite typically reserved for overnight stays and requiring an additional payment, which they waived because Ben Jr. eats his meals in two minutes or less.
I know the staff kept their word because they invited me to request photos of Ben Jr. while I was in Detroit. One day, when I asked for a picture, they immediately replied that he was being fed. Look closely at the accompanying photo, and you’ll see Ben Jr.’s slow feeder bowl in the background. I’m confident it wasn’t placed there just for the photo.
Celebrity pedigree
West LA Dogs was founded about a decade ago by a guy named Burt, whose full name I agreed not to use because his family are celebrities—among the most written-about A-listers in the country. Burt, whom I’ve yet to meet, is understandably sensitive about his background because he bootstrapped the business without using family money. In years past, he was also hounded by paparazzi hoping to catch some of his family members visiting the facility with their dogs.
Burt began as a dog trainer and later started offering daycare services from his home. Eventually, his house became overrun with dogs, prompting him to invest in his current facility. A few years ago, he expanded by taking over a nearby building to exclusively care for small dogs.
West LA Dogs is now managed by Adam, Burt’s best friend since childhood, and like the rest of the staff, he’s just one heck of a nice person. It’s obvious he treats his team well—hence the impressive staff longevity at West LA Dogs.
Takeaway Message
The message I want to impart with this post is that dog owners must be diligent when entrusting their pets to doggie daycare facilities. These are unregulated businesses, and they aren’t scalable in the way tech or retail ventures might be. Owners should be especially cautious of places with multiple locations where the business owner isn’t regularly on-site.
Club Med for Canines was once a fantastic place—until the owner, who was the heart and soul of the business, became ill.
Doggie daycare is one of the last frontiers for private equity’s foray into the pet space, and I recommend thinking twice before placing your pet in a facility whose owner is primarily focused on maximizing operational efficiencies.
If Adam remains at West LA Dogs, I’m confident it will continue to earn its coveted “Starkman Approved” rating. Who knows—perhaps one day Adam will arrange for Ben Jr. to be photographed with some of Burt’s family members, and they’ll allow me to post the photos on this blog.
If that were to happen, I might finally attract a readership beyond my wildest dreams.