Heather Massey took Ladybird to the vet when the 9-year-old dog started having seizures. A scan from an MRI machine revealed bad news: brain cancer.
With the prognosis poor, Massey decided not to continue treatment at the veterinary hospital near her home in Athens, Georgia, and Ladybird died four months later. The MRI and associated care had cost nearly $2,000, which Ms. Massey put on a specialty credit card she had learned about during a previous vet visit.
That was in 2018. She is still repaying her debt, with more than 30% interest.
“Can I afford to do this?” Not really,” said Ms. Massey, 52, who is disabled and not working. “Was it worth it for me? Yes.”
Ms. Massey’s experience illustrates the costly new realities of pet ownership. For decades, veterinarians typically operated their own clinics, seeing generations of pets from birth to death. They castrated them, vaccinated them and removed the thorns from their legs and noses. When animals became seriously ill, veterinarians often had little to offer beyond condolences and a humane death.
But in recent years, as people have become more attached to their pets — and more willing to spend money on them — animal medicine has transformed into a big business that looks a lot like its human counterpart. Many veterinary practices have been replaced by hospitals equipped with expensive MRI machines, sophisticated laboratory equipment and intensive care units operating around the clock. Dogs and cats often consult highly trained specialists in neurology, cardiology and oncology.
These high-tech treatments have stimulated a booming market. Veterinary prices have soared more than 60 percent over the past decade, according to federal statistics. Private equity firms and large corporations have purchased hundreds of facilities across the country, an acquisition spree reminiscent of doctor office business combinations.
Veterinarians across the country told The New York Times that their business leaders are pushing clinics to become more efficient profit centers. Veterinarians were often paid based on how much money they brought in, which gave them an incentive to see more pets, order more tests, and sell wellness plans and food.
The result is an increasingly untenable situation for pet owners, most of whom do not have pet insurance.
The Times asked its readers to share their stories about costly vet bills, and hundreds of people responded. Sophia McElroy of Denver said she donated blood plasma and took on additional self-employment work to pay for her dog’s living expenses.
Nancy Partridge of Waynesville, North Carolina, said that months after her cat was diagnosed with an inoperable tumor, she was still chipping away at the $1,500 bill. “We have a dead cat and we’re still paying,” she said.
In 2015, Claire Kirsch was making less than $10 an hour as a veterinary technician in Georgia when her own dog, Roscoe, and horse, Gambit, each had medical emergencies, resulting in bills totaling more than $13,000. Ms Kirsch said her animals would have died if she had not opted for additional care.
“I knew I could never forgive myself if we didn’t try,” she said.
Ms. Kirsch maxed out her credit card, dipped into her husband’s retirement account and took out a personal loan. Roscoe lived for three more years and Gambit is still alive.
In interviews, veterinarians said pet owners who complained about the costs of care didn’t appreciate the challenges of running a clinic. Veterinarians earn much less money than doctors and are often in debt from years of study. Their prices have risen in part because of the rising cost of medicines, vaccines and other supplies, as well as because of worker pay in a tight labor market.
And thanks to more advanced medical offerings, pets today can survive serious illnesses, like cancer, that would have once been unthinkable. They have access to surgeries and medications that can greatly improve their lives.
“We live in the most technologically advanced era in human history, and isn’t that wonderful? said Dr. Tracy Dewhirst, a veterinarian in Corryton, Tennessee. “But it comes at a cost.”
Even ordinary visits can generate large bills. Dr. David Roos, an 86-year-old veterinarian in Los Altos, Calif., said he decided to retire one day in 2014 after examining a dog whose owners were longtime clients. The animal had been admitted for vomiting. Dr Roos said he would normally have told the owner to take the dog home and give it sips of water. Instead, another veterinarian ordered X-rays, blood tests, IV drips and hospitalization. Dr. Roos knew the owners couldn’t pay the bill.
“I realized at that point that veterinary medicine had changed so much that I no longer wanted to be a part of it,” Dr. Roos said.
With the number of pet owners increasing and surveys showing that Americans are willing to take on debt to pay for their pets’ care, veterinary clinics have become increasingly attractive to investors. About a quarter of primary care clinics and three-quarters of specialty clinics are now owned by companies, according to Brakke Consulting, which focuses on the animal health industry.
In 2015, a major player, Mars – known for selling candy and pet food – acquired a chain of specialty veterinary hospitals, BluePearl, for an undisclosed amount. In 2017, it bought another hospital, VCA, for $9.1 billion. The trend peaked in 2021, with more than 200 private equity deals, according to Pitchbook.
Several veterinarians who worked in corporate practices said they were pressured to expand their business. A California veterinarian said she quit her job after learning her “cost per client” was too low. Another, from Virginia, said she was told she had to see 21 animals a day. A third, from Colorado, said she was taken aback when she heard a manager say that some of the veterinarians in her office needed coaching to “get the client to a yes.” These veterans asked that their names not be released because they feared speaking out could jeopardize future employment prospects in private equity practices.
Other veterinarians said the companies’ ownership had no influence on the care they provided. Yet Dr. Andrew Federer, medical director of a clinic in Mentor, Ohio, that is part of a chain called National Veterinary Associates, said that when a person’s salary is tied to the number of procedures and tests carried out, incentives could be difficult. to ignore, especially for veterinarians who are just starting out.
“The more they bring to the hospital above their current salary, the more they will receive a production bonus,” he said.
Only about 4% of pet owners have insurance, and even for them, options are limited. Pet insurance often excludes pre-existing conditions and costs more for older pets who are more likely to get sick.
Businesses can also change the terms. This spring, insurance company Nationwide informed thousands of pet owners that it was ending their coverage, forcing them to scramble to enroll in new plans that excluded pets’ pre-existing conditions. About 100,000 plans are being phased out, said Kevin Kemper, a Nationwide spokesman.
Stephanie Boerger of Royal Oak, Mich., said Nationwide covered her cat’s chemotherapy but told her it wouldn’t renew her plan when it expired in August. The treatment, which costs about $1,000 every two months, will not be covered by any available plan.
“Now I feel like I have to choose between paying for my cat’s chemo or letting him die,” said Ms. Boerger, who was able to find new coverage through a competing company.
In a statement, Nationwide’s spokesperson cited the rising cost of veterinary care. “We are making these difficult decisions now so that we can continue to be there for even more pets in the future,” he said.
Many veterinarians offer specialty credit cards sold by outside companies, such as the CareCredit card used by Ms. Kirsch and Ms. Massey. Last year, the Biden administration warned that these medical credit cards — which were also promoted by doctors and dentists — were pushing many consumers into debilitating debt. A CareCredit spokeswoman said about 80 percent of cardholders paid off their debt before the interest-free introductory period expired.
Some groups, including the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, are studying how veterinarians can perform common procedures more affordably. And many veterinarians say they try to offer a “range of care,” a nonjudgmental way to discuss less expensive options.
For many people, the companionship of a pet is priceless.
After Ladybird’s death, Mrs. Massey adopted Lunabear, a lab mix who she says is “allergic to the very air we breathe.” Lunabear requires prescription food that costs $6 a can and takes a $3 allergy pill three times a day. Last year she had leg surgery.
Those costs totaled nearly $4,000, much of which was charged to the high-interest credit card. But Ms Massey, who suffers from major depression and lives alone, said her dogs were the top priority. “I pay my bills, then I buy food,” she said.
Ben Casselman reports contributed.