05/13/2026
I’m working my way through the schedule. Thank you to everyone who has been patient and understanding during this busy season.
Scheduling equine appointments is honestly an unforgiving process because we try very hard to make times work for everyone. We understand most people work and don’t have the luxury of sitting home all day with their horses living the good life. We truly do try to accommodate as much as possible.
This time of year there is a constant list of owners needing appointments, and we work hard to place cases where we are not rushed and you receive the time, attention, and care you scheduled for. If you call with something urgent but not immediately life-threatening, I still try to find the soonest reasonable availability so I can give that case my full attention as well.
And I’ll say something that may make some people uncomfortable, but it’s the truth:
Just because you are going to a horse show does not automatically make your horse more important than:
• the foundered 20-year-old pony that hasn’t left the farm in 15 years
• the $1,500 rescue horse someone poured their heart into saving
• or the young adult with their very first horse that didn’t turn out as sound as they hoped
Every owner thinks their situation matters — because to them, it does. And honestly? They’re right.
To me, the value of the horse is not determined by its purchase price, breeding papers, show record, or how expensive the trailer parked in the driveway is.
The horse does not know whether it cost $1,500 or $150,000.
Pain still hurts.
Laminitis still hurts.
Colic still hurts.
Lameness still hurts.
I try very hard to prioritize cases fairly, medically, ethically, and realistically based on urgency, suffering, scheduling logistics, and what I can safely and appropriately manage in a day.
Many people don’t realize how time consuming some cases truly are. A lameness exam alone can take several hours depending on what is going on:
• examination
• flexions
• nerve or joint blocks
• radiographs
• ultrasounds
• injections
• treatment planning
• difficult conversations about prognosis
Everything takes time.
Even if I had a full staff tomorrow, it still would not magically make the day shorter. There is still driving, emergencies that rearrange the entire day, complicated cases, paperwork, phone calls, lab submissions, medical records, scheduling coordination, and follow-up communication. Some urgent but non-life-threatening cases may still take days to weeks to get worked in appropriately.
Even vaccine appointments involve more than people realize.
To some owners it may look like I simply show up to “poke” your horse and move on, but while I’m standing there talking to you, my brain is constantly working. I’m watching how your horse moves, how they stand, how they behave, their attitude, weight, muscle tone, coat quality, breathing, eyes, feet, appetite history, and all the little details owners may not even notice themselves because they see that horse every day.
I’m asking questions for a reason.
I’m observing for a reason.
I’m thinking several steps ahead constantly.
There are a million things running through my mind every time I arrive at a call. And honestly, that doesn’t stop when I get home either. Many nights I’m still awake researching cases, reviewing diagnostics, replaying conversations, and trying to put puzzle pieces together for horses that are bothering me mentally because I know something still isn’t right.
We truly appreciate those who have been understanding. I know it’s frustrating sometimes, but the reality is there are only so many hours in a day. There are also times where I have my own doctor appointments, family obligations, or simply need a moment to physically and mentally recover.
In all honesty, I cannot remember the last full day I truly had “off.” My phone is almost always on. If I’m not out on calls, I’m catching up on records, reviewing lab work, making phone calls, answering messages, handling scheduling, or finishing office work late into the night.
Just know:
I see you.
I hear you.
I am doing the best I can.
There are nights I’m exhausted. There are nights I hurt physically. There are nights I need to step away mentally for a few hours so I can continue doing this job safely and effectively.
I know sometimes I’ve sounded short, stressed, or overwhelmed, and for that I’m sorry. Believe me, it bothers me more than anyone else because I constantly wish I had more time, more energy, and more ability to help everyone faster than I currently can.
Kenny works with many different veterinarians and he has told me before that I’m different. He told me this isn’t “just a job” to me.
And he’s right.
For some people, a job is simply a paycheck. They go to work, do the job, leave, and move on to the next thing without giving another thought to the case they just walked away from.
That’s never been me.
I carry cases home mentally. I replay conversations. I question decisions. I research things late at night. I worry about outcomes. I think about owners. I think about horses. I think about whether I missed something or whether there was something more I could have done differently.
I am different.
I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and honestly that’s okay with me. We are all built differently and not every personality or practice style is going to fit every person.
But what wears on someone over time are the constant comments, messages, and responses from people who become angry when I uphold boundaries or clinic policies.
Things like:
“I guess I’ll just find someone with a shotgun and tell my kids to say goodbye if I ever have an emergency that bad,” in response to me explaining that I only provide emergency services for current clients.
Or:
“I defended you to people when I told them who I use, and now I’m in the same position they were in.” I don’t need anyone to defend me.
There is a reason for my policies.
I truly do not ask for much. I ask for honesty, understanding, patience, and respect. I post often about my clinic policies, my values, and how I operate, so after this much time these things should not come as surprises.
There are honestly days I ask myself:
Do people value me because they truly respect the effort and care I put into this job… or simply because there are so few equine veterinarians left that they have no other option?
That thought crosses my mind more than people probably realize.
There are so many more situations, phone calls, texts, comments, and conversations that people never see that honestly make me question why I continue doing this every single day.
It’s sad sometimes.
I try very hard not to become the type of person I personally would not want to deal with. But at the end of the day, I’m still a tired human being trying to carry a workload and level of responsibility that becomes overwhelming at times.
Maybe I’m not as good as some people at doing more. I honestly don’t know. I can’t compare myself to what others do daily because I spend my time concentrating on what I can do for my own clients and their horses.
If you have called or texted, you are on my books. We constantly monitor for cancellations and openings. Kenny and I work on scheduling between stops throughout the day trying to make routes make sense geographically while also accommodating everyone’s availability. We contact owners, wait for confirmations, move things around, reshuffle routes, and try to fit as many people in as realistically possible. Usually I give about 24 hours for responses before moving to the next opening.
It sounds simple from the outside, but it honestly is not.
The schedule is designed to maximize how many clients we can responsibly see while still providing quality care. If routes are scheduled poorly, I may only be able to see 2–3 stops in a day instead of 4–6.
We are trying. Every single day.
And for those of you who have shown patience, kindness, understanding, and grace during all of this — thank you. It matters more than you know.
Dr. Kate
