Hello 👋
Welcome back to another edition of Weekend Rounds!
We'll be honest with you: this week's top stories are burnout and inflation. We know. We can already feel you reaching for the unsubscribe button. But stick with us, because buried inside the profession's most comprehensive economic report and a new study on relief veterinarian wellbeing are some genuinely surprising findings that might shape the profession over the next few years. They’re worth more than a quick scroll. Promise.
Here’s what we’re covering:
📈 The 2026 AVMA economics report: what the numbers actually say
😮💨 Relief vet burnout hits record highs — but the picture is complicated
🤖 AI Field Notes
🚀 Quick Hits

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What the 2026 AVMA economics report actually says
The AVMA's 2026 Economic State of the Veterinary Profession report is out, and if you haven't had a chance to dig into it, the headline finding is worth sitting with: after adjusting for inflation, the average U.S. veterinarian's real income has returned to roughly where it was in 2004. Although salaries have climbed, when looking at overall purchasing power, the profession has spent two decades more or less running in place.
The average real income for veterinarians in 2024 was approximately $154,000, according to data presented by Dr. Chris Doherty of the AVMA Veterinary Economics Division. New graduates entering full-time employment averaged $129,000. Those are not poverty wages — but they look different when placed alongside the debt picture. Nearly 40% of 2026 graduates now carry $300,000 or more in student loan debt, a dramatic increase from just a few years ago when roughly one in three graduates exceeded $200,000. The AVMA's historically recommended debt-to-income ratio of 1.4:1 is becoming increasingly difficult to achieve for a large segment of early-career veterinarians, many of whom are looking at repayment timelines greater than 20 years.
A few other findings worth noting.
Fewer new graduates are entering full-time employment directly out of school — just under 60% secured full-time positions before graduation, while 28% pursued advanced training.
The proportion of new graduates entering companion animal practice has climbed above 73%, while the share entering food animal practice has fallen to just 3.2%, continuing a decade-long trend that has serious implications for rural veterinary access.
The companion animal income advantage helps explain the math: the average new companion animal graduate earns $140,000 at entry, compared to $100,000 for food animal and $95,000 for equine.
There's a productivity dimension here too. Despite demand for companion animal services remaining high, productivity per veterinarian is declining. The report attributes this to a combination of burnout and uneven adoption of efficiency tools. Roughly 30-40% of DVMs report high burnout levels, and turnover costs ripple through practice finances in ways that rarely show up as a line item.
So what does this mean for us?
The report makes clear that veterinary medicine is not a struggling profession in aggregate — it is a profession experiencing a structural squeeze between rising costs and the real limits of what clients can bear. For practice owners, the pressure is real and the path forward involves technology adoption, team retention, and pricing discipline that the market is making harder to sustain. For clinicians, the message is equally direct: understanding your own debt-to-income trajectory matters more now than it did a decade ago, and the economics of practice type choice have real long-term consequences.
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Relief vet burnout is high, but the story is more complicated than that
As DVM360 covered, a new white paper from Serenity Vet and Talkatoo documents something that will surprise anyone who thought of relief work as veterinary medicine's escape hatch: burnout among relief veterinarians hit its highest recorded level in 2025, up 25% since 2022 and surpassing even pandemic-era peaks.
The relief workforce has grown dramatically alongside those numbers. Between 2023 and 2026, the share of veterinarians working in relief or contract roles grew by 60%, with nearly 1 in 10 vets now practicing this way — compared to just 30% growth over the entire decade from 2008 to 2018. The appeal is real: flexibility, clinical variety, schedule autonomy. But the Serenity Vet data suggests those benefits come with structural costs that the profession hasn't fully reckoned with.
What makes the findings genuinely interesting rather than just alarming is the paradox at the center: professional fulfillment among relief vets rose 34% over the same period burnout climbed. The top stressors are consistent with a model that works clinically but lacks infrastructure — overcommitting to shifts (34%), unpredictable income (32%), administrative burden (31%), and lack of community (26%). Only 46% felt adequately prepared for retirement.
It's worth noting what this study isn't. At 151 respondents, it captures a specific segment. The broader Merck Animal Health Veterinary Wellbeing Study — conducted every two years since 2017 with the AVMA — found that stigma around mental health has decreased, more vets are seeking help, and roughly 84% experience low to medium burnout. The profession broadly may be improving, but the relief segment appears to be moving in a different direction, and the gap is worth watching.

A recent AAHA Trends piece offers something that’s been largely missing from the profession’s AI debate: the student perspective. Written by Cornell DVM student Jeremiah Pouncy, the core argument is simple: veterinary students are already using AI, extensively and thoughtfully, because it works. He describes using AI to transform lecture notes into case‑based explanations, generate practice questions and full mock exams, identify knowledge gaps, and support spaced‑repetition learning. For him—and, he argues, for most students—the question is no longer whether to use AI, but how to use it responsibly and effectively.
The article highlights Colorado State University as an example of intentional integration, where students receive formal instruction on how AI tools can support studying, scribing, and clinical learning. By contrast, many schools have responded to AI with bans or silence, leaving students to experiment without guidance. Pouncy argues this defensive posture is a missed opportunity: AI, he suggests, should be taught like any other professional tool—anesthesia machines, imaging software, or PubMed—complete with strengths, limitations, and clear expectations.
Importantly, the article draws a sharp line between assistance and decision‑making. Students, new graduates, and pet owners alike appear aligned on this point: AI is broadly accepted for documentation, education, and efficiency, but not as a substitute for clinical judgment. That distinction, Pouncy argues, needs to be articulated clearly, and early.
AI is already reshaping how future veterinarians learn, manage cognitive load, and envision practice life. The real risk, the article suggests, isn’t overuse—it’s failing to teach intentional, ethical, and transparent use of tools students are already relying on.
I know that the AAVMC is already working on guidance for veterinary educators on how to use AI. I personally am looking to develop competencies for veterinary education. It is great to see this work proceeding on multiple fronts and embracing an ethical adoption of technology.
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Quick Hits
Here are some of the other stories that caught our eye and we're following this week from around the veterinary world and animal kingdom:




