Luke Judge

Her story was sad – anything involving a dog too weak to get up off the couch is sad. Ulyssia Drozd adopted a boxer/pit bull pup from a shelter in February, and within 48 hours the dog was nearly dead.

It being the weekend, the Pottstown woman didn’t know what to do with the rescue she’d renamed Chance. Take her to the hospital? Leave her at the shelter’s weekend “drop door”?

She found a vet who’d see the dog. Chance had pneumonia, kennel cough, and a host of other ailments. The bill: $1,072. Drozd didn’t have the money, and the dog needed much more care.

The shelter where she’d gotten the dog – the Berks County Animal Rescue League – found a second vet who would treat Chance, and it paid for the treatment. After several days the dog got better.

But that still left Drozd with the first bill, which a friend put on a credit card.

What’s the responsibility of the shelter? Drozd asked. Officials there reminded her she’d signed a paper saying the dog was her responsibility now. They told me the puppy showed no signs of sickness before the adoption.

It’s a classic he said/she said more suited to small-claims court than the newspaper.

But now that we’ve straightened out health care for humans (No? My e-mail’s at the end of the column), I’m wondering if we can get any smarter about treating our pets.

Talking to a Philadelphia vet a few days before, I mentioned our old dog’s great medical adventure in Germany. She went under the knife twice in 2003 after our vet found cancer in her elbow, and the surgeries plus five days in the hospital cost us less than $500.

Why would that cost thousands more here? I asked.

He didn’t venture a guess, but sent me off to visit a peaceable kingdom by the airport, an insurance company where dogs hang out under the desks while the cat, Jethro, prowls the high ground.

Unfortunately, it was just humans I saw last week – the place is a construction site as Petplan breaks into an adjoining suite, enjoying the side effects of a battered economy.

Bad times and advances in veterinary medicine have conspired to make the pet-insurance business very good, say Petplan’s owners, Chris and Natasha Ashton. People will still pay extraordinary amounts to save their animal friends. Petplan is a hedge against catastrophic bills.

The idea for the Wharton grads’ product came from Britain, where nearly a quarter of pets have insurance. Personal experience instructed them as well. The couple were in business school in 2001 when their cat, Bodey, stopped eating. The Ashtons found Penn’s care excellent and expensive – more than $5,000, forcing the couple to juggle credit cards and move to a smaller place.

Their business plan won a school-wide competition, and in 2006 they launched a company that employs 40 people today.

No dog will cost its owner more than the giant dogue de Bordeaux. In comparison, a Jack Russell terrier or a border collie will cost even less than a mixed-breed. Catwise, Maine Coons and Himalayans are the most expensive to maintain.

Petplan has been rated tops by the Humane Society of the United States, but it’s tiny compared to the market leader, Veterinary Pet Insurance Co. Petplan doesn’t disclose how many policies it has sold.

The Ashtons sought to be different, by not denying claims for breed-specific diseases and covering holistic treatments. They’re able to do that by charging according to an animal’s age, breed, and location. The company reimburses the policy holder, creating no paperwork for the vets.

Even though the numbers are growing, only 3 percent of U.S. dogs and 1 percent of cats are insured, says the American Pet Products Association. Compare that with Sweden, where about half have coverage.

Michael Currie Schaffer., the Philly-based author of One Nation Under Dog