Everything I've built.

The screen I run my day from, built on top of Shepherd. Nineteen years of VIA records and everything new on one page per pet, a daily checklist that catches missed charges, an AI chart summary that lists advice never followed, and plain-English search. First version took half a day. The video at the top of this page is the tour, on a made-up clinic.

The tool my team uses most, all day, every day. A sticky note that pops on a teammate's screen and stays there until they clear it. Built because a question sat unread in Slack and the tech assumed the answer was no. Every messaging tool I found was a hospital tool with the word clinic swapped in, so this took half a day instead.

My case colleague. I type the case the way I'd say it, it comes back with the bottom line, a ranked list of what it could be, and doses from my own formulary checked in code. Tag a patient and it reads the chart first, owner names stripped out. First version took a few hours. It runs in my clinic, so the demo video is the tour.

An AI answers the clinic phone every day. I wrote its call flows for emergencies, refills and new clients. The hard part was never the AI, it was deciding what it should hand to a human. I also tried building my own on a different platform, and that one never made it out of the sandbox.

I talk through the exam, it drafts the SOAP note and the discharge, and pushes them back into the record. Runs on my own hardware.

Go-home instructions for surgery and dentals.

A browser extension that writes a 12-system physical exam straight into our practice software in one click, instead of me retyping it.

Where staff photos of patients live, so a pet's picture can be pulled into their discharge by name.

The board on the treatment room tablet that says who is here and what they still need.

Turns my clinical shorthand into the plain-language explanation that sits next to an estimate, in my receptionist's voice rather than mine.

A capture box for the thought I get halfway through a spay. Task, memory, note, idea, urgent, then get back to work.

Shareable post-visit report cards, queued after a discharge is rendered and reviewed by staff before publishing.

Staff scheduling for a small practice: week builder, time-off, swaps, and AI-drafted weeks checked against the clinic's real rules.

A request tracker so jobs stop living in five different heads.

The multi-clinic version of the discharge tool, on its own isolated database, for showing other practices.

A digital version of the board that used to get wiped by accident.

A desktop tool for the lookups I do a dozen times a day.

For owners of itchy dogs. Type your ZIP and it tells you whether today's pollen, mold and weather will make your dog itchy, plus plain-English guides, free tools and an itch diary for your dog. Every medical sentence on it goes past me before it goes live.

What veterinary care actually costs, written down honestly.

My own database and auth stack, on my own box, instead of renting someone else's.

One shared memory every AI client I use can read and write, because intelligence and memory turned out to be two different problems.

A persistent agent that stays running instead of forgetting me between conversations.

Models running on hardware in my building, for the work I don't want leaving it.

One page that tells me what is up, what is down, and what I forgot I built.

Watches the clinic network and complains before a client notices.

Because finding out from a client that something is down is the worst way to find out.

A gateway that lets an agent publish a real website to a real subdomain without ever holding my cloud credentials.

One machine kept locking up at 8am. This watches for it instead of me guessing.

Local document and file search across everything I have written.

A voice assistant with its own dedicated Linux machine. Its predecessor died quietly on the surgery PC, which is the normal way version one ends. Short demo video coming.

Recorded my actual workday for several days so the helper agent could be specced from what I really do, not what I think I do.

717 real questions my staff asked me over a year, mined out of Slack with my actual answers attached. The training material for every clinic agent I build.

A seizure and medication tracker for owners of epileptic pets. Local-first, no account, no backend. Feature-complete in a day.

An interactive 3D study of laparoscopic spay preparation and port approach. Still a local prototype, with the anatomy and later surgical steps unfinished.

Invoice-first practice-software mockups built on my clinic's real catalogue, pulled read-only. What I'd want if I got to draw it.

Can an agent actually book an appointment correctly, or does it just look like it did?

Pulling real clinic data through my practice software's API instead of pasting text into a chat window.

Client handouts in one place instead of four folders. Parked.

An earlier answer to the clinic inbox problem. Ember replaced it.

Vaccine fridge temperature logging. Parked, still a good idea.

Surgical training material. Parked.

A book for owners taking a dog home after surgery. 86 pages, Kindle and paperback, live on Amazon since May 2026.

Thirteen chapters showing where the money in an estimate actually goes, from a vet who sets his own prices. 101 pages, Kindle and paperback, live on Amazon.

A 50-page coloring and activity book for kids four to eight, built page by page in code. Kindle, paperback and hardcover on Amazon.

My fourth book, and the long version of the allergy talk. Twenty chapters and 157 watercolors. The Kindle edition went live on Amazon in October 2026, free on Kindle Unlimited, and the full-color paperback is on the way.

Eight short animated films starring my real team, narrated by Copper. Claude writes and cuts them, Higgsfield draws them. Five came out in one Monday.

A 7-page coloring book and an 18-page activity book, generated from a shared drawing library I wrote. The Amazon one grew out of these.

Twenty staff tee designs in one sitting. I lost the print files when a machine died and recovered the mockups out of the page they were published on.

Three AI-generated videos about why young people are angry at the wrong thing, plus an A/B cut of the first. Every script got torn apart by a hostile reviewer before a single render credit was spent, and that pass changed all four.

A two-page PDF for relief doctors covering my clinic, regenerated before each stint so the formulary matches what's actually on the shelf.

Drawings of my other dog. No business case whatsoever.

Short animated explainers for clients, fronted by my dog.

A 26-minute screen share of this whole stack, plus five short cuts. This is the one I most want to show you.

What relief work actually pays, worked out properly.

Another novel. Parked on purpose, because it needs a new core and I know it.