For veterinary professionals
October 30, 2026
Most of what I learn about a sick rabbit comes from the people who brought it in. The rabbit tends to sit still on the table and give very little away. The family has watched it eat less, or stop eating, or sit hunched in the corner of the pen for the last day or two. How I talk to both of them affects what I find out, what I can examine, and whether the plan actually gets carried out at home.
Two survey papers give us some numbers to work with. One is a 2015 survey of 1,774 veterinarians in the UK and US about communication skills and training (McDermott et al., 2015). The other is a 2026 survey of 400 clients about veterinarians speaking directly to the animal during a visit, which the authors call pet-directed speech (McDermott and Corah, 2026). Michael McDermott is first author on both. Neither paper reports any data on exotic companion mammals, so this post covers what they found, where they stop, and how I apply the findings with rabbits, guinea pigs, chinchillas, ferrets and other small mammals.
In late 2012, McDermott and colleagues mailed a questionnaire to 3,000 randomly selected veterinarians from the RCVS register in the UK and 3,000 from the American Animal Hospital Association membership in the US (McDermott et al., 2015). They received 1,774 responses, a 29.6% response rate overall: 39.7% in the UK and 19.5% in the US. Most respondents who answered the question (72.0%) worked exclusively in small animal practice.
Nearly all of them (97.7%, 1,708 of 1,748) said communication skills were as important as or more important than clinical knowledge to the successful outcome of a consultation. For relationships with clients, 88.2% rated communication 5 out of 5, the top score. Most also gave the top score to communication when explaining a diagnosis (80.9%), discussing treatment options (83.5%), gaining client agreement on a plan (80.8%), managing expectations (77.0%) and optimizing compliance (72.6%).
Training had not kept up with that belief. Only 40.9% had any communication skills training in veterinary school, and 47.1% had training after graduation. Of the 874 respondents who rated their veterinary school training, 34.7% said it prepared them well or very well to communicate with clients. Postgraduate training did better, at 60.6%. Graduates from 2000 onward were far more likely to have had training in school than earlier graduates (68.4% versus 17.5%), but even among them only 41.1% felt well prepared by it.
Those figures are more than ten years old, and I don't know how much they have changed since. The general point still holds for me. Most of us were taught to diagnose and treat far more thoroughly than we were taught to explain a diagnosis to a worried family and agree on a plan they can manage.
McDermott and Corah (2026) ran an anonymous online survey in August and September 2024, recruited by snowball sampling through social media, professional contacts and a newsletter. Of 400 respondents, 309 (77.3%) remembered the veterinarian speaking directly to their animal at the most recent visit, most often two to five times. The most commonly recalled types were greetings and small talk (70%), praise (56%), calming language (49%) and expressions of empathy or concern (42%).
Most respondents (64.5%) said it was very or extremely important to them that the veterinarian spoke to their animal, and 86% (343 of 398) said it made them more likely to see that veterinarian again. One respondent wrote: "It shows me that the vet is interested in my pet as an individual. That he or she is not just looking at a job or a health problem to solve."
The free-text answers grouped into four themes:
This builds on earlier work by the same group. In 55 recorded companion animal consultations in the US and UK, every one included some speech directed to the animal (McDermott et al., 2022). McDermott and Corah also point out that the Guide to the Veterinary Consultation, based on the Calgary-Cambridge model and taught widely in UK veterinary schools, already recommends greeting the animal, being mindful of the bond between client and animal, and handling the animal considerately (Radford et al., 2006).
The pet-directed speech survey was about dogs and cats. Of the animals seen at the most recent visit, 70.5% were dogs, 25.3% were cats and 4.3% were listed only as "other," with no species given. The sample was self-selected, 82% female, mostly from the UK and US, and included some veterinary professionals (13%). Answers relied on memory of a past visit. The question about returning measured stated intention, not what people actually did, and the authors note that client satisfaction ratings tend to skew positive. Two of the survey questions offered example answers that may have shaped responses. Nothing in the study measured the animal's stress or any clinical outcome.
The 2015 survey has its own limits. The US response rate fell below what the authors' power calculation called for, and AAHA members may not represent US veterinarians as a whole. Self-assessment is not a reliable measure of how well someone actually communicates. The data are from 2012 and 2013, and results are not reported by species.
So I don't read either paper as evidence about exotic patients. I read them as evidence about people: what clients notice, and what veterinarians believe and were taught. I think that part applies to the families I see. How it plays out in the exam room depends on the animal.
Rabbits, guinea pigs and chinchillas are prey animals. In my experience they often freeze in the exam room and hide signs of illness, which is one reason a patient can look brighter on the table than it does at home. Stress matters medically in these species too. Stress and pain feed each other, and both can slow the gut.
For these patients, speaking to the animal is mostly about how I sound and move. I keep my voice low and calm, move slowly, and give the patient time to settle before I handle it. That is general low-stress handling practice, and it is how I approach prey species.
The survey does support the tone part from the client's side. Respondents said tone and volume mattered, and they noticed when a veterinarian recognized that the clinic is a stressful place for an animal. With a frozen rabbit on the table, I keep my voice quiet and plain. The family is listening too.
My approach with ferrets is different from my approach with rabbits, guinea pigs and chinchillas. I adjust how I greet, speak to and handle each patient based on the species and the individual in front of me.
The clearest message from the client survey, for me, is that speaking to the animal does not replace speaking to the family. One respondent put it plainly: "I expect any clinical information to be directed towards me, and I would find it very weird if they were talking to the animal about clinical information." Another wrote, "[PDS] is very important, but it is also important they speak to me."
In exotic practice the family does a large share of the clinical work. They are usually the first to notice a change in appetite, droppings or posture. They give the medications, syringe feed, and watch for problems at home. A plan only works if they understand it and can carry it out. That lines up with the 2015 results: explaining diagnoses, discussing options and gaining agreement on a plan were each rated extremely important by roughly four in five veterinarians.
Because many of these patients hide signs in the clinic, I rely heavily on what the family has seen. When a family happens to have a video of the animal at home, it can be helpful. It sometimes shows gait, posture, breathing or eating behavior that the patient will not show on the exam table.
These are the habits I use. They come from my own practice, not from either study.
None of these are new ideas. What matters is doing them consistently, so the family has the same experience whether they are on the phone, in the exam room, or reading the plan at home that night.
The 2015 survey also asked how difficult various topics were to discuss, on a scale from 1 (very easy) to 5 (very difficult). Most topics were rated 2 or 3. The two most often rated 4 or 5 were difficult-to-diagnose conditions (about 36%) and expensive treatments (about 35%). Euthanasia was the topic least often rated difficult (about 12%), which the authors called an unexpected finding. Talking about costs was rated extremely important by 66.3% of respondents.
In my practice, both of the hardest categories come up often. A definitive diagnosis in a small mammal can depend on advanced imaging, surgery or response to treatment, and the cost of that workup can be high relative to what families expect. Before surgery, unless we already have a definitive diagnosis, I tell families that an exploratory may not find a clear cause. Putting that in writing, along with the estimate and the alternatives, helps families make a decision they won't feel blindsided by later.
Home care is part of that conversation as well. Daily medications, syringe feeding and subcutaneous fluids can be a real strain on a family and on their relationship with the animal. When I lay out options, I include what each one asks of the family at home, not only what it costs at the clinic.
In the 2015 survey, 40% of respondents (705 of 1,759) were interested in further communication training. Among those who were, the most popular format was a combination of methods (44.1%), followed by simulated consultations (19.4%) and online learning (18.9%). Lectures alone were the least popular (10.2%). Younger veterinarians, women and US respondents were more likely to be interested. The authors suggest time, distance and cost can affect whether people take up training.
In exotic practice the first conversation often happens at the front desk or on the phone, so I would include the whole team in any communication training. Practicing a few common calls out loud, such as a rabbit that has not eaten since this morning, a guinea pig that is losing weight, or a family asking for a price before they can bring the animal in, is a simple place to start.
McDermott MP, Corah L. Pet-directed speech strengthens the veterinarian-client-patient relationship: Results from a pet owner survey. Vet Rec. 2026;199(2):e66-e72. doi:10.1002/vetr.70500
McDermott MP, Tischler VA, Cobb MA, Robbé IJ, Dean RS. Veterinarian-client communication skills: Current state, relevance, and opportunities for improvement. J Vet Med Educ. 2015;42(4):305-314. doi:10.3138/jvme.0115-006R
McDermott MP, Cobb MA, Robbé IJ, Dean RS. The Dolittle factor: 'Talking to the animals' during veterinary consultations. Vet Rec. 2022;190:e1380. doi:10.1002/vetr.1380
Radford A, Stockley P, Silverman J, et al. Development, teaching, and evaluation of a consultation structure model for use in veterinary education. J Vet Med Educ. 2006;33(1):38-44. doi:10.3138/jvme.33.1.38
If you want to talk through phone triage for exotic patients, home-care plans, or a hard conversation with a family, I'm glad to discuss a case or take a referral. See the referral information for veterinarians, or call Priest Lake Veterinary Hospital at (615) 361-4646.
This content is for educational purposes for veterinary professionals. It doesn't establish a VCPR or replace clinical judgment for an individual patient. Drug use and doses should be checked against current references and adjusted for each case.