Mill Road Veterinary Clinic practice owner and vet Michelle Eyre caring for a patient with the help of head nurse Chani Dunseath. Photo / Tania Whyte
Mill Road Veterinary Clinic practice owner and vet Michelle Eyre caring for a patient with the help of head nurse Chani Dunseath. Photo / Tania Whyte
The pool of people drawn to the veterinary profession is drying up as high suicide rates, persistent abuse and low pay continue to plague the job.
While the global vet shortage is not a new conversation, the situation remains dire.
The pandemic years stemmed the movement of international vets, andpet ownership went through the roof.
Now vets say the days are getting even longer, often seeping into the middle of the night, and clients are becoming less understanding as abuse becomes more commonplace.
Rewind to May 2021 when the New Zealand Veterinary Association (NZVA) told media the country was short by between 50 and 100 vets.
Today that number has climbed to around 130 - 15 in Northland, says NZVA chief executive Kevin Bryant.
The size of the hole in the profession was worsened as closed borders stopped around 250 to 280 overseas vets from working in New Zealand clinics.
Bryant said a lot of those positions were seasonal as opposed to full-time but included specialists in fields such as equine reproduction which the country lacked.
A team of New Zealand vets operate on a kākāpō. Photo / NZME
Some clinics were having to close as they didn't have enough staff, Bryant said.
One example was a Dargaville clinic. Pet owners then had to make a near 60km trek to heavily burdened Whangārei practices for treatment.
Fortunately, the clinic reopened last month and completed 180-odd consults and 22 procedures in the first 15 days of being open.
Mill Road Veterinary Clinic practice owners and vets Didier Poot and Michelle Eyre say they've navigated the shortage by employing "with the future in mind".
This feat is not as easy for Northland's more remote communities, Poot said.
"One issue is getting vets to move to rural areas where they are going to have to do after-hours. Whereas in the cities we don't have to."
Whangārei does not have an after-hours clinic for vets to refer animals to.
And if a change of direction doesn't begin soon, vets won't be here in the next 30 to 50 years, says Dr Shalsee Vigeant, managing director at Animal Emergency Centre in Auckland.
The veterinary doctor, director and practice owner with a career spanning over two decades gave a moving Ted Talk about the industry in May this year.
She shared the findings of a report released two years ago that stated vets were three to four times more likely to commit suicide than the general population.
It is an alarm that has been ringing since a spate of suicides among young vets in 1996 and 2000 sent the profession into a spin.
A survey of 2000 vets back in 2003 warranted 970 responses, of which a quarter said they felt depressed reasonably often and 16 per cent said they had considered suicide.
Being a vet in Northland, like elsewhere, was stressful, Eyre said.
"The public need to understand the pressure that veterinary teams are under. They need to understand that a lot of clinics are working at pretty close to capacity or at times are over."
Eyre described how vets often worked through their lunch break and stayed late to make phone calls as people got upset if they weren't phoned back quickly.
"But you've got a full day of surgery or consults or unexpected emergencies so where are you going to fit that in?"
Vigeant fought back tears in her Ted Talk as she spoke about how the veterinary profession is haemorrhaging staff faster than any other industry.
A study this year found 50 per cent of veterinary staff don't recommend the job to others, she said.
Vets are leaving the "profession in droves", while the number of pets soars.
Bryant said dog ownership during lockdown increased by 28 per cent nationwide.
"That has applied even more pressure on clinics who are already having to catch up on backlogs as they couldn't do anything non-essential during lockdowns."
The industry is hamstrung by how few accredited vet schools existed worldwide - 46 and only one of which is in New Zealand.
Bryant said every year Massey University's vet school in Palmerston North receives more than 300 applications but the school is only funded to accept around 100.
Except for this year when they have managed to increase their intake to 130.
"But it takes five years to train as a vet so those numbers are not going to be seen for those years to come," Bryant said.
Then students graduate with roughly $140,000 of debt and realistically will initially earn $70,000, Vigeant said.
Dr Shalsee Vigeant, managing director at Animal Emergency Centre in Auckland, has more than two decades in the veterinary industry. Photo / Jason Oxenham
Poot wants to see the veterinary industry morph into a more appealing profession for people considering the calling.
"It can't just be because you love it, it needs to be financially effective," he said.
"At the moment I just think it's woefully inadequate. What vets, nurses, and receptionists are paid is unacceptable."
But what is hurting vets and clinic staff the most at the moment is the surge in abuse copped from clients about bills or the speed of work.
Vigeant told the Ted Talk audience they'd be hard-pressed to find a vet who hadn't suffered abuse on the job.
She, Eyre, Poot and Bryant all separately spoke of the need for people to accept that pets are a financial commitment.
Both Eyre and Poot recommended people get pet insurance so they're able to afford to care for their animals.
"We're lucky because our clients understand what things cost and are prepared to contribute to that because they love our animals," Poot said.
Not every clinic had that luxury, he added.
Mill Road Veterinary Clinic practice owner and vet Michelle Eyre wouldn't dream of any other job despite the challenges they face. Photo / Tania Whyte
Vet practices operate on a user pay system and they foot the bill for the necessary machines and equipment.
"They don't understand it's not government-subsidised because they compare it to the human health sector which is heavily subsidised," Eyre said.
Bryant said vets took the abuse to heart.
"Everyone is doing the best they can and when they haven't had a day off in a month they still doing everything to support clients in the clinic, after-hours and in the weekend."
Despite all of the profession's hardships, there's nowhere else Eyre and Poot would rather be.
"Vets love every pet that walks through that door," Eyre said.
For Poot: "The day I don't want to cuddle every animal that comes in anymore is the day I'll step away."
