Why does treating a dog cost 10x more than a human? High vet bills are due a reckoning, says SAM BARKER

I stumbled out of the local vets this week in disbelief at the drug bill for my beloved greyhound, Meg.

How can it be possible that treating a condition that would have cost a person less than ten euros would cost ten times as much, just because the patient has four legs and not two?

The high price of vet bills has been the subject of many a suspicious conversation among animal lovers. These feelings of injustice are compounded by the emotional nature of these accounts.

Pet owners increasingly feel that veterinarians have us over our heads. They know that most of us will do everything in our power if our pet gets sick, and set their prices accordingly, is the common belief.

Vet bills are, in a sense, a tax on compassion, but without the public scrutiny that other forms of tax have.

At least, until now.

The rising costs of vet bills made national headlines last week when the competition watchdog announced they may be overpaying for the treatment, and is about to launch a full investigation.

The Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) said veterinary practices can charge too much, large groups of vets can stifle competition and consumers are not given enough information to help them choose the right treatments for their beloved animals.

Now I have every sympathy for vets as individuals, who I’m sure are feeling inflation as much as anyone else, and so some price increase is to be expected.

They do hard work at a high level and deserve much better than the regular abuse they receive from pet owners.

Instead, my criticism focuses on the often murky world in which veterinarians operate, where confusing and steep pricing structures seem to be the norm rather than the exception.

Meg was at the vet because she had mild conjunctivitis, which was causing her some discomfort.

If a person develops conjunctivitis, antibiotic eye drops cost between $6 and $10 and usually do not require a prescription, so the treatment is easy and cheap to obtain.

But when conjunctivitis strikes the creature on the other end, that bill somehow increases tenfold: to £100.

This bill included £17 for a drop of colored dye, intended to help spot dirt or foreign objects in her eye.

This didn’t work, but did temporarily turn her nose an attractive shade of neon green while the dye flowed through her sinuses.

The remaining parts of the bill were £55 for 15 minutes of vet time and £26 for 10ml of antibiotic eye drops, which required a prescription.

Many pet owners have told me that they regularly swap animal treatments for their cheaper human equivalents in an effort to save money, although I have to say that this is not a gamble I feel qualified to take when my pet’s health is at stake stands.

Another example of hugely inflated vet bills is tooth brushing.

Meg has the common greyhound problem of dental plaque, a legacy of the poor diet and lack of care that many dog ​​breeds face in their racing careers. Greyhound owners keep this plaque at bay by brushing their teeth regularly.

But Meg views my attempts at dentistry as a torturous insult to her dignity, and responds by spitting out the toothpaste and enthusiastically chewing the toothbrush and—inadvertently—my fingers.

So I’m taking Meg to a professional dog groomer, who will do a more professional scale and clean for the princely sum of £20, and in the meantime I’ll do what I can.

But at Meg’s vet the same scaling and polishing costs £300.

Again, I find it baffling how a dental treatment that would cost a human £70 to have done privately, and which can be done elsewhere for £20, increases in value to £300 when the treatment takes place within the walls of a veterinary practice.

If there is a good reason for all this, it escapes me.

When I left, the vet commented on how fit and healthy my dog ​​is. I half expected her to add an extra tenner to my account for the compliment.

If a third example were needed, the cost of obtaining flea and dewormer is astronomically more expensive if done through a vet.

Meg’s flea and worm tablets cost £80 every three months if ordered through the vet’s practice.

But this drops to £40 – exactly half – if I get a £20 prescription from the vet and then use this to order the exact same drug online.

These types of price differences really make you question the profit vets make on these medications.

Online pet pharmacies do have a simpler business model and lower overhead costs than a full-fledged veterinary practice.

But presumably they can still make a profit from selling drugs, even if they do it for half the price that vets charge.

So either many vets charge too much, or their fees are actually fair and they just don’t explain themselves well – and pet owners don’t know where else to go. Both are bad for consumers, and the industry’s pricing practices clearly need to be reformed.

I hope that the CMA investigation will finally shed light on a very dark area.

Until that day, pet owners should question everything when it comes to high vet bills, and inquire if they can get the same treatment cheaper elsewhere.