Why Veterinarians Must Think Like Practice Owners, Not Just Clinicians

A personal reflection on the future of our profession.

Image by Seventyfour via Adobe Stock

In vet school, I took a month-long "business" elective.

We spent most of that time talking about basic marketing, like what to name a practice or how to make a radio ad. We briefly defined the terms on an income statement, but we never learned how to use it to make a strategic decision. We never discussed how to calculate the ROI on a new piece of equipment or the key metrics that signal practice health.

We are trained to be expert clinicians, to diagnose and to heal. We master physiology and learn to manage complex medical cases, but we are not trained to be practice owners.

This educational gap has created a crisis. It has created a clinician-only mindset where we focus on solving the problem in front of us, the patient on the table, but not on building the sustainable system that supports that work. We are led to believe that "medicine" and "business" are two separate, often opposing, forces.

This gap is shaping the entire future of veterinary medicine.

We Were Not Taught the Full Job

The problem is not just that vet school curriculum is too full; the problem is that it has become cultural. We are taught, often implicitly, that business is a necessary evil at best, or a distraction from our "real" work at worst.

In vet school, business conversations were not treated as essential. We learned how to deliver care but not how to build the systems that make care possible. This creates a cascade of problems. Many new graduates enter the field believing practice ownership is out of reach. They see the administrative burden of running a practice, and, having no training for it, decide it is not for them. They worry that caring about pricing or profitability will make them look greedy or unethical.

This is how talented, compassionate veterinarians end up overwhelmed in someone else’s system. They become highly-skilled employees, but not leaders. They become cogs in a machine they do not control. It is how the corporate marketplace gains leverage. It is how we slowly lose our ability to shape our own future.

The Corporate Wave Did Not Arrive by Accident

Private practice did not suddenly become unattractive. It became exhausting for people who were never given the right tools to run it.

When practice ownership feels confusing, risky, and emotionally heavy, selling to a large buyer looks like relief. It truly is a tempting offer. Someone else will deal with payroll. Someone else will manage HR and legal compliance. Someone else will negotiate with vendors, manage the marketing, fix the broken server, handle the negative online reviews, and, and, and.

The clinician is "freed" to "just be a doctor," but this so-called freedom comes at a cost. Someone else will also define your practice culture, your scheduling protocols, and your future.

Corporations are not villains. Many provide good structure and support, but, ultimately, their primary obligation is to their shareholders, not to your local community or your personal definition of good medicine.

If the only sustainable model for veterinarians is to sell their hospitals to a consolidated network, we have a major problem. We risk losing the diversity of practice, the community connection, and the professional autonomy that defines private veterinary practice. That is why business literacy is not optional. It is defensive, and it keeps the profession in the hands of the people who actually practice the medicine.

Practice Ownership Is Not “Selling Out”

Somewhere along the way, we adopted the belief that business is incompatible with compassion. I hear colleagues say they chose veterinary medicine because they care, not because they want money, which is true for me too. However, these values don't have to exist in conflict. You deserve to provide great care to your patients and live without the overwhelming pressure of financial debt.

A practice doesn't have to struggle financially to prove it is doing the right thing. This mindset is harming us, and I reject it. An inefficient, chaotic practice has to charge high prices just to cover its own waste. It is a business model built on panic and reaction. In contrast, imagine a practice that offers fair and transparent pricing, that manages resources well and pays competitive wages, that plans for the future -- this type of practice can stay independent instead of selling under pressure.

Profitability is not an ethical failure; it is an ethical imperative. Profit is what allows you to invest in better equipment. It is what allows you to pay your technicians a living wage, which reduces turnover and improves patient care. It is what allows you to afford to be compassionate, such as by having the flexibility to work with a long-term client who is struggling.

Entrepreneurship, at its core, is stewardship. It is about building something strong enough to support the people and animals who depend on it.

The Future Belongs to Practice Owners Who Lead

Clinicians treat the patient in front of them. Practice owners shape the environment that allows care to happen. Both are necessary, but only one will protect the future of our profession.

We need veterinarians who are willing to think at a higher level. We need leaders who understand finance, operations, and strategy. A vet-led future means practices are defined by medical excellence, not just by quarterly earnings. It means we have the autonomy to create workflows that protect our teams and to set a standard of care that aligns with our values, not just a corporate manual.

Now, this is not about turning every veterinarian into an MBA but about building a culture where business is not taboo. Where learning to read financial statements is as natural as learning to read bloodwork. Where we talk openly about compensation, pricing, and resource allocation as essential components of providing good medicine.

When we view ourselves as practice owners and leaders, we become participants in our profession’s future, not just passengers.

Our Profession Is Worth Leading

Is learning something new scary? Of course it is! But as author Tim Ferriss says, “What we fear doing most is usually what we most need to do.” I pursued an MBA because the idea of running a business was terrifying but also because I really wanted to understand the mechanics that make good medicine possible. What I have learned is that compassion alone cannot sustain a practice. Without structure, even the most caring teams burn out.

The future of veterinary medicine will be shaped by those who understand both medicine and management. If we want to preserve private practice and build workplaces where people can thrive, we must think like practice owners.

Our profession is worth leading.

Ready to build a more sustainable veterinary practice?

If you are interested in building a practice that is independent, ethical, and financially thoughtful, I would love to connect.