Heather Massey brought Ladybird to the vet when the 9-year-old pooped began to have convulsions. An MRI scan revealed bad news: brain cancer.
With the prognosis bleak, Ms. Massey decided against further treatment at the animal hospital near her home in Athens, Ga., and Ladybird died four months later. The MRI scan and associated care had cost nearly $2,000, which Ms. Massey put toward a specialty credit card she had learned about at a previous vet visit.
That was in 2018. She is still paying off the debt, with more than 30 percent interest.
“Could I afford to do this? Not really,” said Ms Massey, 52, who is disabled and out of work. “Was it worth it to me? Yes.”
Ms Massey’s experience illustrates the expensive new realities of owning a pet. For decades, veterinarians typically ran their own clinics, shepherding generations of pets from birth to death. They spayed, vaccinated, and pulled thorns out of their paws and noses. When animals became seriously ill, veterinarians often had little to offer beyond comfort and humane euthanasia.
But in recent years, as people have become more attached to their pets — and more willing to spend money on them — animal medicine has become 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 Many veterinary offices have been replaced by hospitals equipped with expensive MRI machines, sophisticated laboratory equipment and round-the-clock intensive care units. Dogs and cats often see specialists trained in neurology, cardiology and oncology.
This high-tech care has fueled a booming market. Veterinary prices have risen more than 60 percent over the past decade, according to federal statistics. Private equity firms and large corporations have bought hundreds of properties around the country, a buying spree reminiscent of corporate hoardings of doctors’ offices.
Vets from across the country told the New York Times that their corporate managers were pushing clinics to become more efficient profit centers. Vets were often paid based on how much money they brought in, creating an incentive to see more pets, order more tests, and sell wellness plans and foods.
The result is an increasingly precarious situation for pet 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 took on extra freelance work to pay for her dog’s ongoing expenses.
Nancy Partridge of Waynesville, NC, said months after her cat was diagnosed with an inoperable tumor, she was still pulling out 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 dog, Roscoe, and her horse, Gambit, each had medical emergencies, resulting in bills totaling more than $13,000. dollars. Ms Kirsch said her animals would have died had she not opted for extra care.
“I knew I would never be able to forgive myself if we didn’t try,” she said.
Mrs. Kirsch maxed out a credit card, dipped into 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 that pet owners who complained about the costs of care do not appreciate the difficulties of running a clinic. Vets make much less money than human doctors and are often in debt from years of education. Their prices have risen in part due to rising costs of drugs, vaccines and other supplies, as well as due to workers being paid in a tight labor market.
And because of the most advanced medical offerings, pets today can survive serious illnesses, such as cancer, that would once have been unthinkable. They have access to surgeries and medicines that can greatly improve their lives.
“We live in the most technologically advanced time in human history, and how awesome is that?” said Dr. Tracy Dewhirst, a veterinarian in Corryton, Tenn. “But it comes at a cost.”
Even routine visits can rack up big bills. Dr. David Roos, an 86-year-old veterinarian in 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 was admitted for vomiting. Dr. Roos said he would normally have told the owner to take the dog home and give him sips of water. Instead, another vet had ordered X-rays, blood tests, intravenous fluids and a hospital stay. Dr. Roos knew the owners couldn’t foot the bill.
“I realized at that stage that veterinary medicine had changed to the point that I no longer wanted to be a part of it,” said Dr. Roos.
With an increase in pet ownership and surveys showing Americans are willing to go into 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 corporations, according to Brakke Consulting, which focuses on the animal health industry.
In 2015, a major player, Mars — known for selling treats and pet food — bought a specialty veterinary hospital chain, BluePearl, for an undisclosed sum. In 2017, it snapped up another hospital, VCA, for $9.1 billion. The trend peaked in 2021, with more than 200 private equity deals, according to Pitchbook.
Some vets who have worked in corporate practices said there was pressure to drive more business. A California vet said she quit her job after being told 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 surprised to hear a manager say some of the vets in her office needed training to “take the customer to a yes.” These vets asked not to be named because they were concerned that speaking out could jeopardize future job prospects with private equity practices.
Other vets said corporate ownership had no impact on the care they provided. However, Dr. Andrew Federer, medical director of a clinic in Mentor, Ohio, that is 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 can be difficult. to ignore, especially for vets just starting out.
“The more they bring in to the hospital over and above their current salary, the more of a production bonus they’ll get,” he said.
Only about 4 percent 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.
Companies can also change terms. This spring, insurance company Nationwide notified thousands of pet owners that it was ending their coverage, leaving them to scramble to enroll in new plans that excluded pre-existing pet conditions. About 100,000 plans are being discontinued, said Kevin Kemper, a Nationwide spokesman.
Stephanie Boerger of Royal Oak, Mich., said Nationwide had covered 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 each month, will not be covered by any available plans.
“Now I feel like I have to choose between paying for my cat’s chemotherapy or letting her die,” said Ms. Boerger, who was able to find new coverage through a competing company.
In a statement, the Nationwide spokesperson cited the rising cost of veterinary care. “We are making these difficult decisions now so that we can continue to be here for even more pets in the future,” he said.
Many veterinarians offer specialty credit cards sold by outside companies, such as the CareCredit card that was used by Mrs. Kirsch and Mrs. Massey. Last year, the Biden administration warned that these medical credit cards — which were also promoted by doctors and dentists — drove many consumers into debilitating debt. A spokeswoman for CareCredit said about 80 percent of cardholders pay off their debt before the interest-free introductory period expires.
Several groups, including the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, are researching how veterinarians can perform common procedures more cheaply. And many vets say they try to offer a “spectrum of care,” a nonjudgmental way to discuss less expensive options.
For many people, the companionship of an animal is invaluable.
After Ladybird died, Ms. Massey adopted Lunabear, a lab mix she jokes is “allergic to the air we breathe.” Lunabear needs prescription food that costs $6 a can and takes a $3 allergy pill three times a day. Last year, she had an operation on her foot.
Those costs totaled about $4,000, most of which were charged to the high-interest credit card. But Ms Massey, who has major depression and lives alone, said her dogs came first. “I pay my bills and then I buy food,” she said.
Ben Casselman contributed to the reporting.
#pet #care #big #business
Image Source : www.nytimes.com