Between the Lines

The Invisible Pressures Physical Therapists Carry

Why movement expertise can go unseen—and how collaboration restores it

Physical therapists enter animal rehabilitation carrying a particular kind of professional history.

In human medicine, PTs are widely recognized as essential members of the care team. Patients routinely advocate for their involvement, saying things like, “I want my physical therapist involved because they understand how my body actually works,” or “My PT sees things my doctor doesn’t.” Physicians rely on PTs to assess movement, function, tissue behavior, and recovery potential—often over weeks and months, not minutes.

That recognition is not incidental.

It is built on shared language, overlapping training, and decades of interdisciplinary integration.

When physical therapists move into veterinary medicine, that context does not follow them.

Instead, PTs often find themselves in environments where their expertise is unfamiliar, misunderstood, or quietly minimized. Their observations may be dismissed not because they are incorrect, but because they are expressed in a language that veterinary training has never required clinicians to learn. Joint mechanics, tissue-specific loading, movement compensation, and functional patterning may sound abstract—or unnecessary—within workflows built around diagnostics, medications, and procedures.

This creates a painful form of cognitive dissonance.

Physical therapists are trained in movement science. Much of what we know is embodied knowledge—pattern recognition developed through years of hands-on assessment and treatment. It lives in our hands, our eyes, and our ability to notice small changes that signal larger functional problems. When that knowledge is not heard, or when teaching moments are cut short or dismissed, it doesn’t simply disappear.

It becomes inaccessible to the system.

Over time, this takes an emotional toll. Repeated dismissal—especially when unintentional—functions as a social stressor. In pain science, we understand that threat is not only physical. Being unseen, unheard, or talked over activates protective responses that increase stress, reduce engagement, and ultimately lead to withdrawal. PTs may stop offering insight—not because they have nothing to add, but because the environment has not made it safe to do so.

The loss is shared.

When PTs are unable to contribute fully, veterinary teams lose access to movement-based insights that can refine evaluation, guide conservative management, and improve long-term outcomes. This is not a criticism of veterinary training. Veterinarians are trained as medical doctors across multiple species, with immense responsibility for diagnosis and life preservation. Physical therapy is rarely central in that education—especially in fast-paced outpatient and corporate settings.

The gap is structural, not personal.

Consider how collaboration changes outcomes when space is made.

In cruciate ligament evaluation, veterinarians rely on skilled clinical tests such as cranial drawer and tibial thrust. Physical therapists add understanding of how hip position alters hamstring tension—and how hamstring stretch can produce pain responses that mimic instability. Adjusting hip position to slacken the hamstrings can reduce false positives and clarify stifle pathology.

In medial patellar luxation, PTs contribute insight into the dynamic role of the quadriceps mechanism—how muscle balance and movement patterns influence patellar tracking. This perspective can help determine when conservative management may be appropriate before surgery is pursued.

At the same time, veterinary diagnostics protect PTs and patients from harm.

Identifying osteosarcoma in a large-breed dog with thoracic limb lameness prevents inappropriate rehabilitation. Clear neurologic diagnosis guides safe management in conditions like intervertebral disc disease, where crate rest may be the most important intervention at certain stages.

Each profession protects the other—when collaboration is allowed to function.

For physical therapists, one of the most challenging aspects of animal rehabilitation is protecting scope while remaining collaborative. Veterinarians may not know what PTs know—and PTs must learn to translate without defensiveness or ego. The goal is not independence for its own sake, but clarity: showing how PT expertise improves care, reduces uncertainty, and ultimately makes the veterinarian’s job easier.

When collaboration is done well, PTs do not add burden.
They reduce it.

They provide a place to send patients when function becomes the limiting factor.


They support clients through long recoveries.


They improve outcomes in ways that reduce moral distress and compassion fatigue.

But this only happens when physical therapists are treated as respected professionals—listened to, acknowledged, and given space to contribute.

Animal rehabilitation is still early in its evolution. The research base is growing. Shared language is developing. In the meantime, we rely on trust, translation, and patience to move forward—together.

Action Steps

For Physical Therapists

  • Translate before you teach.
    Start with what your observation means clinically before naming the biomechanical detail.

  • Protect your scope with clarity, not defensiveness.
    Confidence and consistency build trust faster than urgency.

  • Build peer support outside your workplace.
    Especially when you are the only PT in a veterinary setting, community matters.

For Veterinarians

  • Recognize movement expertise as complementary, not peripheral.
    PTs are trained to see what unfolds over time—not just in the exam room.

  • Create protected space for PT input.
    Even brief moments of listening increase the value of collaboration.

  • Model respect publicly.
    How you introduce and reference PTs shapes team culture and client trust.

A Shared Collaborative Approach

  • Establish a shared language for care.
    Agree on how observations will be communicated, when questions are welcome, and how decisions will be made together. Clarity prevents resentment—and keeps expertise accessible to the whole team.

Take a moment to reflect.

Some experiences are meant to be shared.
Some are meant to be held quietly.
Both matter

If shared, reflections may be used—anonymously—within this space to help name common experiences and reduce isolation across animal rehabilitation.

There is no obligation to share.
Presence is enough.

Share an anonymous reflection

Continue with a reflection that resonates, or read in any order.

Collaboration Changes Everything

Join animal rehabilitation, the intersection of extraordinary skill sets.


Not Being Allowed to Not Know

The invisible pressure veterinarians carry in Veterinary Medicine

Between the Lines

The invisible pressures physical therapists carry in animal rehabilitation


Boundaries Are Not a Luxury

Why well-intended support can land as pressure — and how to do better

When Both Professions Feel Alone

And What to Do About It


Microaggressions in Professional Spaces

Why small moments matter—and how to protect collaboration in busy clinics

Protecting Scope While Improving Quality of Life

How PT contribute without overstepping—and why understanding matters


These reflections are part of the same care pathway—just spoken in a quieter voice.

They reflect the world we practice in every day, and the professional culture we help create through how we listen, respond, and collaborate.