The current party line is that there’s a shortage of veterinarians. That’s why some solo practitioners remain solo, because they can’t find the help.
But I’ve been having a different conversation with solo practitioners for five, ten, fifteen years. Long before this shortage.
When I push a little deeper, they admit it. They don’t want to give up control. They don’t want to share the clients, the revenue, or decisions. And underneath all of it is something simpler: they want to be the one. The one who knows everything, decides everything, is everything to the practice.
Most vets won’t name it until you ask directly. Then they do.
The Cost of Staying Solo
You know what a solo-vet practice looks like from the outside, ten years in. The owner is burned out, hasn’t taken a real vacation in years. They add longer hours and turn to workarounds: more support staff, LVT appointments, adjusted schedules, longer work hours. All of it is great and valid. None of it is a long-term solution to scaling the business. Those are Band-Aids. And Band-Aids work for a little while. Then you’re right back where you started, burned out and booked solid, with a more complicated staffing model and the same fundamental problem: you. When they finally decide to sell, their practice isn’t worth what they thought. A practice that depends entirely on one vet isn’t a business. It’s a job nobody buys.
But the immediate pain isn’t the five-year horizon. It’s right now. The client waiting three weeks for an appointment. The surgery schedule booked six weeks out. The owner who no longer has hobbies and misses out on family and friends events because work is all there is.
That’s what staying solo costs. And most solo vets know it. They just decide it’s worth paying to keep control.
The Push
At one time, I was that solo practitioner who didn’t want to hire an associate. The reasons aren’t complicated. I didn’t want to give up control. I was used to my current system and didn’t want to deal with change. It felt like one more thing to figure out. I didn’t want to share my staff. I didn’t want to share my clients. I could go on and on.
But my business partner saw it differently. We had the revenue to support a new associate. We had the staff in place. We had clients and patients who needed timely appointments. And I owed it to the team to not keep squeezing in one extra appointment every day to accommodate our clients—which had quickly become five extra appointments, with everyone staying late and exhausted conversations happening in the parking lot.
He pushed.
Not asked. Pushed.
That’s the thing about a good business partner. They see what you’re protecting before you understand you’re protecting it. They see that you’re choosing control over scale. And they won’t let you.
So we hired. But let me tell you about Mrs. Johnson and when I realized what adding a new associate really cost me. My ego.
The Rottweilers
Mrs. Johnson had three Rottweilers and two cats. She was one of the practice’s first clients. Easy pets. Wonderful owner. I’d seen her for years.
I was overbooked one day, and Mrs. Johnson came in with her new puppy Rottweiler. It was a straightforward appointment, the kind of case that was perfect for my new associate to get her started. So I asked her to see them.
The new vet connected with Mrs. Johnson. Not marginally. Genuinely connected.
One day Mrs. Johnson’s name popped up on the schedule. I assumed it was for me. I didn’t pay attention. I went to find the vet assistant.
The look on her face.
She had to tell me, in a soft hesitant voice, that Mrs. Johnson had requested Dr. X. Not me. And I just stared at her like she’d told me the building was on fire.
The treatment room went quiet. Dead quiet. Everyone suddenly had somewhere else to be. Towels got refolded. Counters got rewipped. People found exits. No one looked at me. Because they’d all already realized it. The clients had started asking for the new associate. And they were uncomfortable watching me find out.
I told myself it was great that the new associate was liked and respected.
What I actually felt was crushed. My ego crumbled and I had to admit the little green envy monster resided in me.
It happened again, and again. Clients I’d cared for for years started requesting her instead, which stung more each time.
The Shift
I can’t tell you exactly when it shifted, because it wasn’t one moment. My business partner was relentless, pointing out the facts: the practice was better. Clients were getting in when they needed to be seen. Surgeries were scheduled when clients needed them, not booked out six weeks. My team had breathing room and were leaving on time at night. I was happier because I could think about something other than how to squeeze in yet another client into an already overbooked day. And the added revenue was allowing us breathing room to buy that coveted piece of equipment we’d held off on.
And slowly, I stopped feeling crushed when a client chose her. I realized something had to give and chose the hospital over myself.
The Numbers
If you’re still not convinced about adding a colleague, look at your production revenue over the last several years. Is it stable? Fluctuating?
If your revenue is stagnated—if you’ve been flat for years and your clients are booking weeks out for a routine appointment, even further for routine surgery—then you’ve maxed your threshold of production. You’re at capacity. It’s time to bring on that new associate.
Here’s the math that matters: take the salary you’ll pay a new DVM and add the benefits and taxes. That’s usually 20 to 30 percent of their base salary and any other associated costs. That’s your true total cost. Model it. Live with it on a spreadsheet for a month. See what it looks like when it’s real.
The Work: What It Actually Takes
You have to want the practice to be bigger than you. Not say you want it, but really want it. And accept all that comes with it, green envious monster and all.
You won’t always be the best clinician on staff. Maybe you are. Maybe you’re not. Either way, you have to let someone else be good at something you care about.
You have to accept that your way isn’t the only right way, and that means decision-making can’t go one way anymore. Your associate won’t do everything the same way. Maybe she handles a case differently. Maybe her clinical approach differs from yours. You have to decide: are you going to let her practice her medicine, or are you going to second-guess every choice?
For more on this, read She Did Not Need to Be Managed More. She Needed to Be Trusted More. It’s the flip side of this story.
You have to let your staff work for someone else. You have to stop being the only person they report to. You have to watch them build real relationships with another vet and not interpret it as disloyalty.
Finally, you have to let go of clients. Your Mrs. Johnson isn’t coming back to you first anymore. That stings, and a lot of solo vets won’t tolerate it, so they protect the clients they have left.
My colleague couldn’t do this. She hired a new associate but refused to let her see her clients. Even when she was overbooked, she’d squeeze in her existing clients or book them further out.
Here’s what she didn’t understand: a new associate won’t be kept busy from day one with just clients new to the practice. That’s not how it works. A new vet is there to help with the ceiling the clinic has hit. Yes, she’ll gain new clients as her schedule opens up. But to help the practice with the overbooking crisis, she needs some of the established clients. The ones already coming in, already trusting the practice.
My colleague couldn’t see that. She protected her clients so fiercely that she became the practice’s worst enemy. She sabotaged the one person who could have helped her. The new associate eventually left. And my colleague is still working solo, still overbooked, still alone.
She chose to be the favorite, and being the favorite cost her everything she said she wanted.
That’s not losing control. That’s growing up as a leader.
The shortage is real. But for a lot of solo vets, staying solo isn’t always because they can’t find an associate.
It’s because they’re not ready to stop being the one.
— Dr. V
The Gray Oak Journal
Dr. V is a veterinarian with over twenty years of clinical and operational leadership experience. She has owned and operated several veterinary hospitals, weathered many shifts in the industry, and served on advisory councils. She writes The Gray Oak Journal at grayoakjournal.com.