Heather Massey took Ladybird to the vet when the 9-year-old stray He started having seizures. A scan from an MRI machine revealed bad news: brain cancer.
Faced with the grim prognosis, Ms. Massey decided not to continue receiving treatment at the animal hospital near her home in Athens, Georgia, and Ladybird died four months later. The MRI and related care cost nearly $2,000, which Ms. Massey charged to a specialized credit card she learned about at a previous visit to the veterinarian.
That was in 2018. He is still paying off the debt, with more than 30 percent interest.
“Could I afford to do that? Not really,” said Massey, 52, who is disabled and does not work. “Was it worth it to me? Yeah.”
Ms. Massey's experience illustrates the costly new realities of pet ownership. For decades, veterinarians often operated their own clinics, guiding generations of pets from birth to death. They were neutered, vaccinated, and had thorns removed from their legs and noses. When animals became seriously ill, veterinarians often had little to offer beyond their condolences and a humane death.
But in recent years, as people have become more attached to their pets (and more willing spend money on them: animal medicine has become a big business that looks a lot like its human counterpart. Many veterinary offices have been replaced by hospitals equipped with expensive MRI machines, sophisticated laboratory equipment and 24-hour intensive care units. Dogs and cats are usually seen by highly trained specialists in neurology, cardiology and oncology.
This high-tech attention has spurred a booming market. Veterinary prices have skyrocketed more than 60 percent over the past decade, according to federal statistics. Private equity firms and large corporations Has bought hundreds of facilities throughout the country, a acquisition spree reminiscent of corporate roll-ups in doctors' offices.
Veterinarians across the country told the New York Times that their corporate managers were pressuring clinics to become more efficient profit centers. Veterinarians were often paid based on the amount of money they brought in, creating an incentive to see more pets, order more tests, and increase sales. welfare plans and food.
The result is an increasingly untenable situation for animal owners, most of whom do not have pet insurance.
The Times asked readers to share their stories about expensive vet bills, and hundreds responded. Sophia McElroy of Denver said she donated blood plasma and worked as an extra freelancer 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 spending money on the $1,500 bill. “We have a dead cat and we're still paying,” she said.
In 2015, Claire Kirsch was earning less than $10 an hour as a veterinary technician in Georgia when her own dog, Roscoe, and her horse, Gambit, each had medical emergencies, resulting in bills that totaled more than $13,000. Ms. Kirsch said her animals would have died if she had not opted to receive additional care.
“I knew I would never be able to forgive myself if we didn't try,” he said.
Ms. Kirsch maxed out her credit card, accessed her husband's retirement account and took out a personal loan. Roscoe lived another three years and Gambit is still alive.
In interviews, veterinarians said pet owners who complained about the costs of care don't appreciate the difficulties of running a clinic. Veterinarians do much less money than human doctors and are often in debt from years of education. Their prices have risen in part because of the rising cost of medicines, vaccines and other supplies, as well as workers' wages in a tight labor market.
And thanks to more advanced medical offerings, today's pets can survive serious illnesses, such as cancer, that would once have been unthinkable. They have access to surgeries and medications that can greatly improve their lives.
“We live in the most technologically advanced time in human history, and how wonderful is that?” said Dr. Tracy Dewhirst, a veterinarian in Corryton, Tennessee. “But it comes at a cost.”
Even regular visits can run up big bills. Dr. David Roos, an 86-year-old veterinarian from Los Altos, California, said he decided to retire one day in 2014 when he checked on 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 vet ordered x-rays, blood work, intravenous fluids, and hospitalization. Dr. Roos knew the owners couldn't pay the bill.
“At that point I realized that veterinary medicine had changed to the point that I no longer wanted to be a part of it,” Dr. Roos said.
With a growth in pet ownership and surveys demonstration As Americans are willing to go into debt to pay for the care of their animals, 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 corporations, according to Brakke Consulting, which focuses on the animal health industry.
In 2015, a major player, Mars, known for selling sweets and pet food: acquired a chain of specialty veterinary hospitals, BluePearl, for an undisclosed sum. In 2017, it acquired another hospital, VCA, for $9.1 billion. The trend peaked in 2021, with more than 200 private equity deals, according to the proposal book.
Several veterinarians who have worked in corporate practices said they were pressured to drum up more business. A California veterinarian said she quit her job after being told her “cost per client” was too low. Another, from Virginia, said she was told she needed to see 21 animals a day. A third, from Colorado, said she was surprised when she overheard a manager say that some of the veterinarians in her office needed training to “get the client to say yes.” These veterans asked that their names not be revealed because they were concerned that speaking out could jeopardize future job prospects with private equity practices.
Other veterinarians said corporate ownership had no bearing on the care they provided. Still, Dr. Andrew Federer, medical director of a clinic in Mentor, Ohio, owned by a chain called National Veterinary Associates, said that when someone's salary is tied to the number of procedures and tests they perform, incentives could be difficult ignore, especially for veterinarians just starting out.
“The more they bring to the hospital above their current salary, the bigger production bonus they will receive,” he said.
Just about 4 percent of pet owners They 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.
Companies can also change the terms. This spring, insurance company Nationwide notified thousands of pet owners that it was suspending their coverage, leaving them scrambling to enroll in new plans that excluded pre-existing pet conditions. About 100,000 plans are being discontinued, said Nationwide spokesman Kevin Kemper.
Stephanie Boerger of Royal Oak, Michigan, said Nationwide had been covering her cat's chemotherapy, but told her it would not 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 chemotherapy 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're making these difficult decisions now so we can still be here to have even more pets in the future,” he said.
Many veterinarians offer specialized credit cards sold by outside companies, such as the CareCredit card that Ms. Kirsch and Ms. Massey used. Last year, the The Biden administration warned that these medical credit cards, which were also promoted by doctors and dentists, led many consumers into debilitating debt. A CareCredit spokeswoman said about 80 percent of cardholders paid off their debt before the introductory interest-free period expired.
Some groups, including the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, are researching how veterinarians can perform common tasks. procedures cheaper. And many veterinarians say they try to offer a “spectrum of care,” a nonjudgmental way to discuss less expensive options.
For many people, the company of a pet is priceless.
After Ladybird's death, Massey adopted Lunabear, a lab mix who is jokingly “allergic to the very air we breathe.” Lunabear needs prescription foods that cost $6 a can and takes a $3 allergy pill three times a day. Last year she underwent surgery on her leg.
These costs have totaled almost $4,000, much of which has been charged to the high-interest credit card. But Massey, who suffers from severe depression and lives alone, said her dogs were top priority. “I pay my bills and then I buy food,” she said.
Ben Casselman contributed with reports.
