Veterinary care

The phone at a vet clinic is also the emergency line

At a veterinary clinic, the same number handles bookings, prescription requests and the first judgement on a sick animal. Five calls in one queue – and the one a voice agent must never assess on its own.

A woman in a dark teal rain jacket stands on a pavement on a grey day with a mobile phone to her ear and her eyes lowered, holding a dog lead in her other hand while a golden-brown dog sits close against her at the bottom of the frame.

It is 11:20 at a veterinary clinic with two vets and one person on reception. One vet is in surgery. The other has a cat on the table. The person on reception is holding a dog lead in one hand and taking a payment with the other. The phone rings for the fourth time in ten minutes.

In most workplaces with a full phone queue, the worst that can happen is that someone gives up and calls somewhere else. At a vet clinic, the phone is also where someone makes the first call on whether something is urgent. And the caller is never the patient. It is the owner, trying to describe an animal that cannot say where it hurts.

That makes the phone at a vet clinic an unusually good job for a voice agent – and an unusually dangerous one if it is set up wrong.

One queue, five different calls

1. “Can I book a vaccination?”

A large share of calls are like this: vaccinations, nail clipping, annual check-ups, neutering, dental cleaning. The outcome is clear, and there is no reason for any of it to pull a vet away from the table. This is a call a voice agent can own.

That assumes the agent can see open slots and write them into the place where the clinic actually plans its day. Which practice management and booking system the clinic uses, and how the agent gets access to it, is the first thing to settle – before anyone writes a single line of dialogue.

Two things set a vet clinic apart from a hair salon. Every booking carries two names, the owner’s and the animal’s, and the agent has to get both right. Names are what a voice agent mishears most, and it does little good that “Bella” is spelled correctly in the record if the owner’s surname was misheard. On top of that, the length of the appointment depends on the species. Neutering a cat and neutering a large dog are not the same slot. The agent has to ask what kind of animal it is, and often its weight, before it suggests a time.

2. “Can I get a repeat prescription?”

Another large group of calls is about medication and prescription diets: a dog on long-term pain relief, a cat on a kidney diet, a request to pick up more.

Here the line is clear. The professional standards of the Norwegian Veterinary Association say that a vet only starts treatment or issues a prescription after examining the animal or otherwise having gained sufficient knowledge of it. It is the vet’s judgement, every time.

The agent’s job is to take the request properly: which animal, which product, when it was last given, and how the owner wants to hear back. Then it says that a vet will review it, and when the owner can expect an answer. It never says “that should be fine.” What the agent says on the phone can bind you, and a promise of a prescription is a promise the vet has not made.

3. “How much will it cost?”

The agent can quote the price of a vaccination or a nail clip if the price list is somewhere it can read it. It cannot quote the price of surgery, because that depends on what the vet finds. The right answer is what the price usually covers, what may come on top, and that an estimate is given after examination.

The question that tends to follow – “will my insurance cover it?” – is one the agent should not answer at all. That answer belongs to the insurer. The most useful thing the agent can say is which documents the clinic can give the owner to submit.

4. “Are the test results back?”

Test results are communicated by a vet. The agent can log that the owner called, check that it really is the owner it is talking to, and say when she can expect a call back. It should not read anything out of the medical record, even if it has access to it.

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5. “The dog ate something”

The fifth call is the only one that really matters to the animal, and the only one the agent must never assess on its own.

A voice agent at a vet clinic does not need to know veterinary medicine. It needs to recognise a short list of words and situations written by the vets, and pass the call to a human the moment it hears one of them. Three examples:

“The cat hasn’t peed since yesterday.” The agent does not need to know why this is urgent. It needs to know that it is on the list. The call goes to a human now – not as a callback this afternoon.

“The dog ate a bar of chocolate half an hour ago.” Ate, swallowed, wolfed down, got hold of – every variant belongs on the list. So do breathing heavily, bleeding, seizures, can’t get up and hit by a car.

“He’s been a bit listless for a few days.” This is the hard one, because it does not sound urgent. Nor is the agent the one to decide that it is not. It offers the first available appointment, asks whether the owner would like a veterinary nurse to call today, and transfers straight away if the owner says she is worried.

The rule is that the agent never says “it’s probably nothing,” and that doubt always goes up the chain. It is the same principle that applies to acute toothache at a dental clinic: triage is not booking. What the human is told when the call is handed over – the animal, the species, what happened and when – decides whether the owner has to tell the whole story again. That handover has to be designed, not just possible.

When the clinic is closed

In Norway, the Animal Health Personnel Act requires municipalities to ensure satisfactory access to veterinary services and to organise a clinical out-of-hours veterinary service. The country is divided into roughly 160 on-call districts. But the state subsidy for that service is aimed mainly at farm animals in agricultural areas. In the cities, private small-animal clinics largely run their own round-the-clock services, and the City of Bergen warns on its own website that there may be periods with no small-animal on-call service because clinics lack capacity. Sweden may be heading the same way: a 2025 ministry memorandum (Ds 2025:27) proposes taking companion animals out of the state’s out-of-hours obligation, except for euthanasia on welfare grounds.

In the on-call arrangements we looked at, the phone comes first. In Bergen, people using the small-animal service agree by phone where and when to turn up. A Danish clinic chain asks owners to call before coming in, precisely so that the on-call team is not interrupted in the middle of surgery.

That says something about who answers the phone at 2 a.m.: often the same vet who has an animal on the table. Every call about tomorrow’s opening hours, a prescription or a vaccination appointment is a call that interrupts the on-call service.

The division of labour here is easy to write down. The agent answers, takes the name, number, species and what happened. If it is something on the list, the call goes straight to the vet on duty, with that information – or the agent gives the owner the number for the on-call service if someone else runs it. Everything else gets an appointment tomorrow or a message that the clinic will call back when it opens. An owner with an acutely ill animal should never be stuck in a queue behind someone asking what a nail clip costs.

The cost is not missed bookings

The usual argument for a voice agent is missed bookings: the call nobody picks up, the customer who books somewhere else. That is true at a vet clinic too. But it is not where the real cost lies.

The real cost is the interruptions. Every time the phone rings, someone lets go of an animal, a customer at the desk or a medical record. They are the same hands that need to hold a restless dog still for a blood sample. A large share of the calls that interrupt them are of the first four kinds. Those are the calls an agent can take.

The fifth is the reason the clinic has a phone number at all. An agent that handles the first four, but ever tries to decide whether a dog that has eaten something can wait until tomorrow, is worse than a phone that rings out.

Threll.ai builds voice agents in Norwegian, Swedish and Danish. At a vet clinic, the setup does not start with the opening line. It starts with the list of words that always go to a human – written by the vets.