A couple of months after I first got Rosie, she got a cough. Being unsure of how serious this might be, I called the vet, but he didn't do phone consultations, so I went in for an appointment. They gave her a morphine shot and some pills and cough syrup to take home. I had to pay for all of that, plus the examination fee. Afterwards, I felt taken advantage, which I was, so I switched vets. My current vet is more expensive, but they are more caring, more considerate, and do phone consultations and follow-ups.
Being a new dog owner is a scary business; this little life that you've fallen in love with feels like it's entirely in your hands. I was so worried about Rosie that I took her to the vet far more often than she probably needed and my brother started calling her "Typhoid Rosie," which I kind of resent to this day. I would (and sometimes still do) play out terrible fantasies in my head wherein I notice something wrong with Rosie and I don't do anything about it and then she dies, but she would have lived if only I'd gotten her to the vet when I first noticed something wrong. On the other hand, if I overreact, then I feel like a rube.
There is definitely a value to the peace of mind that one gets from the doctor, though, whether it is concern about yourself or your charge. The thing is, though, that dogs do take care of themselves, by-and-large, as do humans. Certainly, problems arise and you want to have them dealt with when they do, but I am not the only one taking care of Rosie—millions of years of evolution have designed her to survive most of what the world can throw at her. She can deal with a lot, and I'm here to help with everything else.
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