I went out on my own as a mobile vet because I wanted to make things easier for the pets (and people) who find clinics hard. Anxious dogs. Cats that turn feral the moment the carrier comes out. Elderly pets with sore hips. Owners who are doing their best but can’t physically get to a clinic, or can’t emotionally handle the stress of it.
I also went out on my own because I was sick of negotiating my salary while trying to practise with a clear conscience — with pay tied to KPIs. I think that’s unethical (and I’ll cover that properly in a separate piece).
What I didn’t anticipate was how variable collaboration can be once you step outside the clinic system.
I assumed we’d share a baseline
To be clear: I’m not asking the profession to “back me”.
I just assumed we’d share a few basics:
- patient welfare first
- professional courtesy
- a willingness to solve problems when the situation calls for it
Maybe that assumption comes from university.
At uni, it genuinely felt like we were in it together. I was part of a young vet school when I started — it didn’t even have graduates yet — but they got one thing right: unity around the idea that the patient matters more than the politics.
I’m not a competitor to clinics (and I don’t strive to be)
Let’s get this out of the way early. A mobile vet is not a replacement for a clinic — and I’m not trying to become one.
I can’t offer what a clinic can offer:
- diagnostic imaging (x-ray, ultrasound)
- hospitalisation and monitoring
- surgery and complex procedures
- a full team and a full pharmacy on-site
A good clinic is essential. I rely on clinics. My clients rely on clinics.
And when a clinic visit is genuinely the best option for the patient, that’s what I recommend — even if there are workarounds, even if it’s inconvenient, even if it means I’m sending work away from myself. My clients get the best recommendation, not the easiest one.
So when a client asks, “Which clinic do you recommend?” it should be a straightforward answer.
Instead, more and more often, my honest answer is:
“I’m sorry — I don’t have anyone local I can recommend from personal experience.”
That’s not a marketing angle. It’s simply the most accurate answer I can give.
The part people miss: many of my clients have already lost trust in clinics
This is incredibly common in my client base.
A lot of people who choose a mobile vet aren’t doing it because they hate clinics. They’re doing it because they’ve had experiences that made them wary:
- feeling upsold or pressured
- feeling guilty or “deserted” if they decline recommendations
- unexpected items on the bill
- money being raised early in a way that feels blunt or transactional (even though they fully understand they have to pay)
It’s not the fact of payment that turns people off — it’s the way it’s communicated.
So when I do recommend a clinic visit, I’m often asking a client to walk back into a system they already don’t trust.
That’s why being able to refer confidently matters.
What I expected: professional teamwork
When I reach out to other vets and businesses in the ecosystem — clinics, labs, crematoriums — I’m usually looking for a practical answer to a practical problem:
- What’s safest for the patient?
- What’s fastest when time matters?
- What’s least stressful for the owner?
Sometimes that’s exactly what happens.
Other times, the response is more rigid:
- “Only if the client converts.”
- “That’s not our protocol.”
- “We don’t do that.”
I’m not naïve to the fact that businesses need to be profitable. I run one. I get it.
But I’ve been surprised by how often the first lens is commercial or procedural, even when the request is small, time-sensitive, and clearly patient-centred.
The pattern I keep running into
1) Referrals with strings attached
When I refer a case to a clinic, I’m sometimes met with a version of:
“We don’t want that client unless they convert loyalty to us.”
I understand why clinics think this way. But it changes the tone of referrals.
A referral is not an acquisition funnel. It’s a handover for the patient.
2) Basic collegial help being refused
I asked one long-term colleague for a small favour that I would do for them without thinking.
A simple call to a client to say their blood results were normal, because I was in a medical emergency myself — with a clear plan that I’d follow up as soon as I could.
The response was a flat no.
Not “I’m slammed today.”
Not “Can you text them instead?”
Not even “I can’t, but I’ll see if one of my team can.”
Just no.
And yes — I understand the medico-legal reasoning: you shouldn’t discuss test results unless you’ve examined the patient.
But this wasn’t routine. It was an emergency situation. The ask wasn’t for diagnosis or interpretation — it was basic reassurance and continuity of care.
3) Labs and after-hours reality
I’ve run into repeated friction around after-hours logistics.
Pick-ups won’t happen after hours — even when I know after-hours pick-up exists in nearby areas.
So the system can do it. It just won’t do it for you unless you’re the right kind of customer — usually high volume.
That’s not a moral judgement. It’s simply how the system appears to be structured.
4) “Sure, we can help”… at full retail
I had an emergency situation where a client couldn’t get to a clinic. I’d taken blood, needed fast results, and asked a nearby clinic if they could run the sample on their in-house machines and print the results.
No client interaction. No consult. No interpretation. Just run the sample.
They agreed — and charged me the full client price for the bloods, which was more than what I’d charged my client.
Now, I’ll be fair: maybe that’s on me. Maybe my pricing model needs adjusting.
But it highlighted something I keep noticing: even when the request is essentially a technical assist, the default is often a standard retail transaction.
5) Aftercare that collapses the moment the day shifts
A crematorium arranged to arrive at a client’s house one hour after my appointment time.
I was running 30 minutes late, so I called as a courtesy. The euthanasia appointment ended up taking less than half an hour — meaning the driver still would’ve arrived on time.
The response was:
“No, it’ll have to be tomorrow.”
They sent the driver to the next job.
So I’m standing there thinking: I’m not leaving a deceased dog overnight with a single mum and three young kids.
My business model is purposely not set up to handle aftercare logistics. I’ve built it around doing the in-home part properly, and leaning on partners for the rest.
But when the partner system can’t flex, the reality is simple: the pet and the family still need care.
So I made other arrangements.
The bigger issue: protocol over problem-solving
The common thread in all of this isn’t one bad clinic or one bad business.
It’s a culture where:
- there’s little flexibility unless there’s a clear commercial upside
- protocol matters more than the person in front of you
- helping a colleague is treated as a risk, not a responsibility
- patient welfare is discussed like a value, but handled like a variable
Protocols are designed for the vast majority of situations. I get that.
But no protocol is one-size-fits-all — and we’re trained scientists, professionals, and problem-solvers. I don’t doubt we have the ability to adapt when a situation doesn’t fit the template.
What I’m seeing, too often, is that we choose not to.
That’s hard to sit with, because I love this job. I love this profession. I want to be proud of it.
But I’m also not interested in pretending these are isolated incidents.
What I’m asking for (and what I’m offering)
This isn’t a whinge for sympathy. It’s an observation — and a prompt for a cultural reset.
If you’re a clinic owner, a lab rep, a crematorium operator, or anyone who touches this ecosystem, here’s what would make a real difference:
- treat referrals as patient handovers, not client capture
- make small collegial help normal again
- build flexibility into your systems for the moments that matter
- be transparent about what you can and can’t do — and why
- remember that protocol is meant to serve the patient, not replace judgement
- accept that one size does not fit all, and critical thinking is part of the job
And from my side:
- I’ll keep referring when a clinic is genuinely the best option
- I’ll keep being honest with clients, even when it’s uncomfortable
- I’ll keep choosing the welfare of the pet over the easiest business decision
The uncomfortable truth
Mobile vets like me aren’t trying to replace clinics.
We’re trying to catch the patients who are falling through the cracks.
But those cracks get wider when the profession turns inward, gets territorial, and forgets that collaboration is part of care.
If we can’t support each other in the simple moments — normal results, time-sensitive bloods, aftercare logistics — then clients end up navigating the system alone.
They deserve better than that.
So do we.