There is something more dangerous than incompetence in veterinary medicine.
It is indifference.
I recently received a quiet message from someone who has seen what many are afraid to say out loud. Impatience toward patients. Selective effort depending on the client. Animals confined without proper monitoring. Unprofessional conduct displayed openly, as if it were acceptable.
Let me be clear.
This is not about being perfect.
This is about being humane.
Our patients do not choose us. They are carried into our clinics in boxes, cages, towels, trembling arms. They do not understand diagnostics. They do not understand protocols. They only understand fear, pain, and trust.
And that trust is absolute.
When a dog is confined and not checked regularly, it does not complain.
When a cat is handled roughly out of frustration, it does not file a report.
When corners are cut, the animal absorbs the consequence quietly.
That silence should haunt us.
Compassion is not a soft concept. It is discipline.
- It is checking vitals even when you are exhausted.
- It is doing proper monitoring even when no one is looking.
- It is speaking respectfully in front of clients even when emotions are high.
- It is giving the same standard of care whether the owner drives a luxury SUV or arrives on a motorcycle.
Compassion is consistency.
Burnout is real. Compassion fatigue is real. The workload is heavy. Clients can be difficult. The industry is evolving.
But none of those realities excuse the erosion of our humanity.
The moment we become selective about who deserves our patience, we cross a line.
The moment we normalize neglect as “normal clinic culture,” we cross a line.
The moment we allow frustration to replace empathy, we cross a line.
Veterinary medicine is not only about knowledge. It is about moral stamina.
You can be brilliant in diagnostics and still fail in character.
If you are a clinic owner, build systems that protect patients from human weakness. Strict confinement protocols. Clear monitoring schedules. Case endorsements. Accountability. Culture is not built by speeches. It is built by what you tolerate.
If you are an associate, guard your standard fiercely. Even if no one else insists on excellence, you must.
If you have witnessed lapses, do not normalize them. Silence sometimes protects the wrong things.
We are not just service providers. We are custodians of lives that cannot defend themselves.
And when the doors close at night, when the noise settles, when the last client has gone home, one question remains:
Did that animal feel safe under my care?
Because at the end of your career, you will not be remembered for how busy you were.
You will be remembered for how you treated the vulnerable.
Compassion is not optional in this profession.
It is the line we do not cross.
Dr. Geoff Carullo is a Fellow and the current President of the Philippine College of Canine Practitioners.
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