@Mappy6984 What's strange about thinking animals in our care should have a life worth living and a peaceful painless death? They have a point, it's strange you can't see it.
@Reil76 Your lens in space ( Canada vs Alberta) and time ( since 2019) is much too narrow.
Look at what the globalists have done for
centuries, Canada wants to go on that path, many Albertans don’t.
🐕💕⭐️
The veterinary world has changed.
—
The dogs who do best don’t have perfect owners.
They have observant ones.
—
HUMM launches in 2 days.
It’s about helping you become the human your dog already believes you are.
Link in the bio🐕
@ShaneWenzel Lassoing scared baby calves, throwing them to the ground to tie them up for entertainment is sure losing its shine - let’s use only consenting humans for entertainment!
I was forced to train an intern. Spent 6 months teaching him everything I knew - every system, every client
quirk, every shortcut I'd learned over five years.
They made him my boss yesterday. Double my salary. Everyone in the conference room stared, waiting for a
reaction. I just smiled and congratulated him.
The next day, everyone froze when they opened my company-wide email. It said,
"Effective immediately, I
will no longer be providing training, guidance, or assistance to management. My role description does
not include mentoring supervisors."
HR called me into a meeting within an hour. My new boss looked panicked. He had no idea how to do half his job without me. Management tried to guilt me, saying I was being unprofessional and hurting the team.
But here's the thing. I'd been doing two jobs for years. Fixing everyone's mistakes. Staying late while others
went home. And for what? To watch someone I trained get the promotion I deserved?
Now, my boss keeps showing up at my desk with questions, and I redirect him to HR every single time. The tension is unbearable.
My coworkers are divided - some think I'm brave, others say I'm being petty.
I don't know what to do anymore. Was I wrong to draw this line? I'm exhausted from years of being taken advantage of, but now I'm wondering if I just made everything worse for myself.
I need honest advice because I feel like I'm drowning here, and I don't know if I should keep standing my
ground or find a way to fix this mess before it destroys my career completely.
POV: You’re a dog walking into the vet clinic.
First hit?
Disinfectant.
💩 Pee/poop from 17 other animals.
A cocktail of stress pheromones.
Your nose is already in detective mode.
Then: A stranger greets you. Another stranger ushers you onto The Wall Scale of Doom. You sit in a waiting room full of animals you’re not allowed to interact with (rude).
Next, you’re put in a tiny room. Someone takes your temperature. Your heart rate. Your dignity.
No personal space. No context. No consent.
And THEN the vet shows up and the real fun begins: physical exam, cold stethoscope, maybe a trip to “the back” for bloodwork.
From your dog’s perspective? That’s 15+ micro-stress events before anything even happens.
One fearful visit can get etched into their brain for years.
So yeah, some dogs love the vet.
Others are just trying to survive an escape room designed by humans.
Next post: how we can make this way less terrifying for them 🐾
PS: When a diagnosis is staring you in the face 🙂
#HUMM #dogmentalwellness
Your dog isn’t broken. The communication gap is!
After 30+ years as a veterinarian, I keep seeing the same pattern repeat:
Anxious dogs develop digestive issues.
Bored dogs develop destructive behaviours that we often try to manage rather than truly understand.
This is what we get wrong about “bad behaviour”:
When your dog barks, digs, or chews, we call it a problem.
But from their perspective, it’s communication.
And reaching for SSRI drugs shouldn't be our first move.
Barking = “I’m anxious and need reassurance.”
Digging = “I’m under stimulated and need engagement.”
Chewing = “I’m stressed/bored and need an outlet.”
Mental health drives physical health in dogs, just like in us.
This is exactly why I’ve been building something called HUMM.
HUMM is about helping humans move from frustration to curiosity, from control to connection, and from “What’s wrong with my dog?” to “What does my dog need?”
Because training isn’t about dominance, it’s about translation.
The best question isn’t, “How do I stop this behavior?”
It’s, “What is my dog trying to tell me?”
Your dog is talking. Are you listening?
What’s one “problem behaviour” you’re dealing with right now? And how are you trying to solve it?
If you’re building something in the pet health space, or you believe mental wellness matters for our animals, let’s connect.
#PetHealth #AnimalWellness #HUMM #VeterinaryMedicine #StartupJourney
I walked through a Ralph Lauren store in Los Angeles, and this print made me stop.
A snowstorm.
A human, centered.
Two animals, connected.
Something about it grabbed me by the throat.
Maybe it was the stillness inside the chaos.
The way everything feels wild, yet nothing is rushed.
Just steady.
And sometimes, that’s the work.
Standing still in the snow.
Holding the lines that matter.
Letting the chaos rage around you, but not through you.
It got me thinking about this year.
Was I steady…
or just standing in the storm?
What I want more of in the year ahead:
More time in nature, the kind that grounds you.
Chasing more sunsets with my dog and donkeys, the animals who remind me why I chose this work.
More of that stillness when everything else is howling.
As this year closes, I’m asking myself:
Where did I leak energy?
And where did I find it again?
If you’re willing to reflect too:
⭐ What drained you this year?
⭐ What filled you back up?
Thank you for being here - for caring deeply about animals, for your wisdom, and for standing witness to lives that can’t speak for themselves.
I truly appreciate you. 🩵
Your vet just quoted you $550 for bloodwork. Again.
And you’re thinking: Is this necessary… or overkill?
Welcome to the grey zone of vetmed.
What is the best business model for vetmed?
The one that puts patient welfare ahead of profit margins. Every time.
That means no upselling.
That means never selling anything that isn't genuinely in the best interest of the patient.
That's called integrity.
The best model for all healing professions is simple:
"I have a solution that is in YOUR best interest."
But veterinary medicine has unique structural challenges that make living up to this standard harder than it should be.
1️⃣ We prescribe AND we sell.
Yep. We get to diagnose the problem, prescribe the solution, and sell the thing - all before your parking meter expires.
Human medicine ditched that setup ages ago because it obviously creates conflicts of interest big enough to drive a horse trailer through.
This isn’t about “bad vets.”
It’s about bad incentives tied to a very outdated business model.
2️⃣ The “gold standard” vs “standard of care” grey zone.
Sure, the full senior panel with every bell, whistle, and boutique add-on is the gold standard.
But gold isn’t always wise.
Gold isn’t always necessary.
Gold is sometimes just… expensive.
Running 15 tests when 3 answer the question isn’t better medicine, it’s busier medicine. And sometimes “best practice” becomes code for “best margin.”
Again: this is an incentive problem, not a villain problem.
So here’s your power move as a pet guardian:
You know that feeling at the mechanic when they’re listing repairs and you’re silently Googling “Do I really need a new serpentine belt?”
That's you at the vet sometimes. And that's okay.
If you feel overwhelmed at the vet, ask this one question:
“I need to prioritize. What’s the ONE thing my dog absolutely needs today, and what’s ONE thing I can safely defer?”
Any vet worth their stethoscope can answer that clearly.
If they can’t , or won’t, well… that tells you something too.
Because confused clients say yes to everything... or no to everything.
N e i t h e r serves your pet.
What's the most confusing recommendation you've gotten?
#AskYourVet
#GreyZone
#IntegrityMatters
We need to talk about the biggest secret in veterinary medicine.
We all say we recognize non-human animals as sentient beings.
The Canadian Veterinary Medical Association even states it outright: animals feel pleasure, pain, fear, distress.
Cool. Gold star for humanity.
BUT what we believe on paper and what we practice in real life live on two different planets.
If you’re a golden retriever with a limp?
You get orthopedic surgery, laser therapy, underwater treadmill sessions, and a custom pain-management plan.
If you’re a dairy cow with mastitis?
You get “economically justified treatment.”
Translation: only if you’re still profitable as in shape up or ship out.
We’ve mastered compassion for the animals who sleep on our couches.
We even argue against declawing cats after learning how to do it in vet school.
Meanwhile, we’ve become world-class experts at not looking too closely at the billions of animals living lives defined by confinement, pain, mutilation, and a slaughterhouse at the end.
We don’t like to say out loud:
Veterinary medicine has two tiers.
Tier 1: Dogs, cats, and some horses: where welfare, pain, and quality of life matter.
Tier 2: “Production animals”—where those same concerns are filtered through a single question: Does it affect yield ?
Horses sit in a tragic middle ground: cherished by some, disposed of by others, and quietly shipped to slaughter when they stop being “useful.”
So why are we still training vets to accept conditions for industrially farmed animals that we would never tolerate for a dog?
You can hot-brand a calf without anesthesia, it's standard practice.
But stub out a cigarette on a dog?
You'll be reported, prosecuted, and publicly shamed.
Same pain. Different species. Different rules.
Because our profession was built to serve two masters:
animal welfare and animal agriculture.
And when those interests collide, guess which one wins?
We teach first-year students that animals are sentient.
The next year, we send them into factory farms to learn how to keep animals “productive” in conditions we’d be reported for if we did the same to a Labrador.
We crusade against puppy mills for keeping dogs in cages.
Then we graduate vets to manage sow stalls where pigs can't even turn around.
We say animals deserve a life worth living.
We graduate vets who ensure animals survive just long enough to be profitable.
The cognitive dissonance isn’t subtle.
It’s massive.
I became a vet because I care about animals. All of them.
So why does my profession continue to teach me that some of them don't count?