Jenny Swanson’s dog, Astra Vega, was less than a year old when she died unexpectedly during what should have been a routine spay procedure. In perfect health, Astra had passed all her preoperative tests. Jenny dropped her off at pet clinic in Menasha, Wisconsin, early one morning in June.

By 9:38 a.m., her heart had stopped.

Swanson and her husband received a call from the clinic not long after dropping her off. They were told CPR had begun and were asked whether they wanted efforts to continue.

“She’s got to be alive when we get there,” Swanson remembers telling the staff. But by the time they arrived, Astra was gone.

What followed, she says, was worse than the surgery itself.

Photo: Jenny Swanson

Jenny Swanson’s dog died during a routine spay at a private equity-owned clinic.

“It Happens Sometimes”

Inside the clinic, Swanson and her husband were ushered into a room typically used for euthanasia. The explanation was brief and clinical. Astra had begun “bucking” during the procedure when her uterus was manipulated. Staff administered more anesthesia, then more still. Her heart stopped.

“They said this sometimes happens during surgery,” Swanson said. “There was no empathy. It felt like arms-length detachment.”

After the shock came the bureaucracy. Swanson was told she had to drive Astra’s body to the Wisconsin Veterinary Diagnostic Laboratory (WVDL) in Madison—two hours away—for a necropsy.

“They had no transport,” she said. “I had to put her dead body in my car and make that drive myself.”

When she arrived, WVDL told her no toxicology had been ordered. She had to ask for it. Even then, the lab explained that depending on what agents were used during anesthesia, a definitive cause might never show up.

Photo: Jenny Swanson

Swanson had to drive her dog's body two hours to Madison for a necropsy herself.

Private Equity and Pet Care

Astra’s story doesn’t end at a single clinic. Swanson dug into the details of the clinic and found it was owned by another group, which is in turn was backed by a private equity firm and linked to a larger network of “veterinary partners.”

According to The Nation, about a quarter of general veterinary practices—and over 75% of specialty clinics—are now controlled by corporate or private equity groups. These firms purchase local practices, load them with debt, and demand aggressive financial returns.

“It’s about consolidation,” Mike Cooper, founding partner at Shore Capital, a major investor in the veterinary sector, told PitchBook.

“There’s 30,000 vet clinics in the country, and around 15% are already corporate or PE-owned.”

The percentage has only risen since that statement was made.

These businesses appeal to investors because they’re mostly cash-based. Unlike human healthcare, veterinary bills are usually paid out of pocket. As a result, there’s no insurance company to act as a brake on rising prices or questionable care.

Photo: Jenny Swanson

Astra was less than a year old and in perfect health before the surgery.

The Cost of Efficiency

Swanson felt that reality firsthand. Despite her grief, she says the clinic insisted she pay for Astra’s cremation before leaving.

“They asked for my credit card while I was still in shock,” she said.

There was no gesture of goodwill. no waiving the fee, just a bill and a bag.

In the following days, inconsistencies in paperwork emerged. Times didn’t align with Swanson’s call logs. Words were changed—what was originally described as Astra “bucking” in the operating room was softened to “huffing” in the written report.

When she sought answers from the clinic, she was given a generic complaint line. Only after researching the corporate structure behind the clinic was she able to connect with a former executive, who put her in touch with someone higher up the corporate chain.

Even then, she said, follow-up was sporadic, and accountability was elusive.

Photo: Jenny Swanson

At least a quarter of general and most specialty vet clinics are now corporate-owned.

Beyond One Dog

Astra’s case is deeply personal for Swanson, but she knows it speaks to a larger trend. As an Industrial Organizational Psychologist, she sees systemic issues.

“They were not trained for crisis,” she said. “They didn’t know how to respond to grief. And they didn’t give me the information I needed.”

Similar concerns are echoing across the country. A report from Stateline documented a growing number of veterinarians and pet owners voicing alarm over care quality under corporate ownership. One veterinarian shared that she was pressured to upsell services and squeeze in more patients—standards that clashed with her training and ethics.

The Ackerman Group describes the private equity playbook plainly: acquire, streamline, maximize profit. Clinics acquired for millions are often resold within a few years, their books fattened by cost-cutting—not patient outcomes.

Meanwhile, pet owners face rising fees and diminishing transparency.

Calls for Reform

Swanson isn’t letting Astra’s story fade. She will take it up with the state licensing board and is advocating for greater consumer awareness. She urges pet owners to ask hard questions: Is your clinic privately owned? Are their vets experienced? Do they have crisis protocols?

She’s also pushing for structural change.

“At a minimum,” she said, “these corporations need grief training, escalation procedures, and transparency.”

Industry observers agree. According to The Nation, strengthening state laws that limit non-veterinary ownership and give consumers legal recourse is key. As the AAHA warns, unchecked corporate growth risks replacing compassionate care with metrics and margins.

Remembering Astra

Swanson still has the handmade sympathy card from Astra’s original vet—a small, independent clinic that had cared for her before Swanson switched clinics. It came unprompted, with signatures and heartfelt words from every staff member. A far cry from the business card she was handed by the clinic staff the day her dog died.

“I took a live dog in,” Swanson said, “and they gave me a dead dog back.”

Swanson says she will continue fighting for justice for Astra’s death. She believes no pet parent should have to feel that powerless again.