Today, I had one of those moments that felt like a small gift from the universe, though it didn’t seem that way at first. I was at Walmart, running what I thought would be a quick, mundane errand—picking up a prescription for my paralyzed miniature schnauzer. It was just one stop in a busy day. I work from home, and on the way there, I thought, You better make this snappy because you have a lot to do. My plate was full, and I wasn’t thrilled to be running out.
But life had other plans for me that day.
As I hurried through the store, I saw a woman with a bright lavender stroller carrying two small, adorable dogs—a Pomeranian named Tootsie and a Yorkie named Lily. What started as casual conversation about how cute the dogs were turned into a 45-minute talk that I couldn’t pull myself away from, despite all my rushing earlier. Somehow, I just knew that I needed to listen to her. And I’m so glad I did.
Tootsie (Pomeranian) and Lily, Yorkie, at Walmart. They’re both 2 years old and go everywhere with their mom.
The woman shared how she’s endured profound losses—her daughter, her parents, her health. She’s waiting for disability approval and is facing financial struggles, yet the only thing keeping her going is her two dogs. She even implied they saved her life by giving her something to live for. As she opened up more, I learned about the devastating experience she had when her previous dog, Cleo, passed away from seizures. Cleo’s emergency vet bill was $2,400, but while she was hospitalized herself, her regular vet quietly paid the bill for her.
And here’s the heartbreaking twist: she hasn’t been able to return to that vet since. Why? Because she felt too ashamed. I wasn’t raised that way, she said, You’re supposed to work for what you get. I just can’t face her knowing she paid all that money for me. Her pride, her shame—it’s kept her from the very person who helped her during her time of need.
As she continued talking, I couldn’t help but think about how often we’re so rushed through life that we don’t stop to deeply connect with anyone. We don’t listen to people in the fullness of their humanity, hear their stories, and acknowledge their feelings. And here I was, rushing through my day, only to be stopped in my tracks by this encounter. It felt like a random moment, but maybe it wasn’t random at all.
This woman is far from alone. Thousands of pet owners face similar struggles, and many don’t share their financial worries with their veterinarians, just like she didn’t. Shame, pride, guilt—these feelings stop people from asking for help, and they often suffer in silence. But at VetBilling, we believe everyone who loves and cares for their pet deserves the opportunity to keep them. No one should lose their beloved companion to economic euthanasia or surrender. Payment plans and affordable care are how we can prevent that.
I realized something as I walked away from Walmart much later than planned. This encounter was a reminder that meaningful human connection still exists in those quiet moments when you least expect it. And maybe, just maybe, we’re guided to these encounters for a reason.
