UK Vet Price Surge: CMA's Fix May Fuel Corporate Dominance

The Competition and Markets Authority is about to publish findings that should worry anyone who thinks corporate consolidation automatically delivers better value for consumers. Over seven years, veterinary prices in the UK have risen 63% whilst inflation crept up far more modestly, and the timing is hard to ignore: corporate ownership of practices jumped from 10% to 60% over roughly the same period. Pet owners facing emergency bills now have little choice but to pay whatever's asked, whilst vets themselves report pressure from corporate bosses to prioritise revenue over patient care.

Louise Burns discovered this dynamic the hard way when her Boston terrier Bow developed breathing problems in October 2023. Four days later, after emergency procedures including a tracheostomy, she faced a bill approaching £7,800. Her insurance covered £3,000. The rest came out of her own pocket, because when your dog can't breathe, shopping around isn't really an option.

The watchdog's proposed solution, however, may prove worse than the problem. Expected measures include capping prescription fees and requiring vets to direct clients towards cheaper online pharmacies. Sounds sensible enough until you realise who owns those pharmacies.

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The irony of the CMA's remedy

According to Rob Williams, president of the British Veterinary Association, two of the largest veterinary groups control somewhere between 70% and 80% of medications supplied through online routes. The CMA's intervention would therefore channel yet more revenue towards the very corporations whose market dominance sparked the investigation in the first place. Williams calls it "quite ironic" — which seems generous.

Independent practitioners face a bleaker calculation. If medicines stop generating profit, they'll need to recoup costs elsewhere: higher consultation fees or reduced staff numbers. Claire Batty, who opened her own practice near Whalley, Lancashire in 2023 after leaving corporate employment, already tells clients they can request online prescriptions. But she resents that the beneficiaries are often the same chains she left behind after being told repeatedly by desk-bound managers that she "wasn't earning enough money".

The CMA's intervention would channel yet more revenue towards the very corporations whose market dominance sparked the investigation in the first place.

The veterinary sector isn't unique here. This pattern — private equity and corporate buyers consolidating fragmented markets, prices rising sharply, regulators scrambling to respond — has played out in dentistry, care homes, and funeral services. The difference is that those industries don't routinely face customers in crisis situations where delay could mean death.

When the law can't keep up with the market

Perhaps the more fundamental problem is regulatory lag. The Veterinary Surgeons Act dates to 1966, when practices were typically owned and operated by individual surgeons. Individual vets can still be struck off for misconduct, but corporate owners controlling 60% of the market face minimal consequences for systemic failures. The government has promised reform, but legislation takes years.

Lord Trees, the only vet sitting in the House of Lords, argues that Britons have "warped" expectations of healthcare costs because the NHS shields us from price signals. He insists veterinary service quality remains "exemplary" — you don't wait months for elective surgery on your dog, and emergencies get handled within hours. That's true enough, though it rather sidesteps why the CMA felt compelled to investigate in the first place. Complaints from pet owners don't typically drive formal competition inquiries unless they reach critical mass.

The BVA's preferred explanation for price rises centres on demand for newly available high-tech treatments. Williams suggests pet owners may need to consider "whether it is always appropriate to opt for the most expensive treatment". There's something to this — medical technology advances faster than most people's ability to pay for it — but the timing doesn't quite hold. Consolidation and price increases moved in lockstep. That correlation doesn't prove causation, but it's suggestive.

The breeds we choose and the bills we face

Williams also raises the awkward question of breed selection. Pugs, French bulldogs, and English bulldogs all suffer breathing problems due to their flattened faces. Scottish Fold cats develop arthritis. Prospective owners scrolling through Instagram rarely factor these medical costs into their decisions, though advocates of pedigree breeds dispute that mixed breeds are categorically healthier. Batty notes that fashionable crossbreeds like cockapoos and cavapoos frequently develop skin and ear problems, suggesting better breeding regulation might help more than consumer choice alone.

Then there's the cultural shift that's created its own economic dynamic. A survey by a pet food company found that half of 2,000 pet owners view their pets as children. Social media is thick with "pet parents" discussing their fur babies. Vets increasingly worry about this trend, not because they're heartless but because treating animals as human family members creates pressure to pursue expensive interventions regardless of outcome.

If half of owners genuinely view pets as children, the potential market for expensive end-of-life interventions becomes enormous, creating perverse incentives for corporate owners answerable to shareholders rather than veterinary ethics.

Batty argues vets need to step in more assertively to ask "is this fair, and is it in the best interest of the animal?" when treatments carry hefty price tags but uncertain benefits. She describes this as being "the voice of the animal" — what the profession calls "contextualised care". But that requires clients to accept limits, which sits uneasily with the pet-as-family-member mindset. If half of owners genuinely view pets as children, the potential market for expensive end-of-life interventions becomes enormous, creating perverse incentives for corporate owners answerable to shareholders rather than veterinary ethics.

Can new entrants disrupt the market?

Williams holds out hope that new entrants might disrupt the market the way Aldi and Lidl shook up supermarkets. Some startups are experimenting with subscription models that bundle professional services, offering transparency and predictability. Pet People in London uses subscriptions to remove barriers to care whilst giving vets more opportunities to catch problems early, according to veterinary director Francesca Verney. Artificial intelligence might reduce administrative burdens, freeing up clinical time.

Whether any of this materially reduces costs remains uncertain. UK pet owners spent £6.3bn on veterinary and pet-care services in 2024 — just over £365 per household with pets — and corporate owners didn't consolidate 60% of the market by leaving money on the table. The CMA's intervention may improve price transparency without actually lowering prices, whilst potentially strengthening the position of the largest chains. Independent practices might provide better value and more personal service, but they're competing against corporations with economies of scale and vertical integration extending into online pharmacies.

The broader question is whether consolidation in essential services — and emergency veterinary care certainly qualifies — can ever truly serve consumers when those services involve zero bargaining power at the point of need. Regulatory frameworks designed for different market structures struggle to keep pace, leaving individuals to absorb the costs whilst watchdogs craft remedies that may inadvertently reinforce the problems they're meant to solve.

More articles by Ross Williams