My Take Tuesday: Tempus Fugit

This week marks sixteen years since I graduated from veterinary school. Sixteen years. And still, it feels both like a lifetime ago and like it happened just yesterday.

I remember standing shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the most brilliant, compassionate, and driven individuals I’ve ever known. We were full of hope, determination—and caffeine—ready to take on the world with our hearts in our hands and stethoscopes around our necks.

Today, those classmates are scattered across the globe, leaving indelible marks on veterinary medicine—as oncologists, internal medicine specialists, zoo vets, epidemiologists, clinical pathologists, mixed animal practice owners, and tireless advocates for animal and public health. Their impact is extraordinary. I feel a quiet pride in having walked beside them during those formative years.

As for me—I could never have predicted the journey these sixteen years would bring.

I’ve had the rare privilege of consulting in eight countries and twenty-seven U.S. states. I’ve worked with thirty-nine different species in reproduction alone, completed over 50,000 small animal exams, published scientific papers, and recently authored my first textbook chapter. I’ve helped build a thriving practice. And along the way, I’ve been challenged, humbled, mentored, and inspired.

Yet above all these milestones, it’s the quiet, ordinary moments that have brought the most joy. The wag of a tail after a hard-won recovery. The warm look of relief on a client’s face. The first breath of a newborn calf in the early dawn. These are the miracles disguised as routine. And if there’s one lesson that rises above the rest, it’s this: the secret isn’t chasing the extraordinary—but finding it in the everyday. 

This profession has demanded much—but it has given more. It has taught me how to listen, how to persevere, how to hold both life and death in the same gentle hands. It has filled my days with purpose and meaning. The path hasn’t always been smooth, but it has always been sacred.

One of my greatest joys has been mentoring and speaking with veterinary students across the country. I often tell them: lean into what makes you different. Don’t look outward for validation—look inward for authenticity. Success isn’t measured by being better than others; it’s measured by becoming better than who you were yesterday.

Just glance at your thumb. That spiral of ridges—your fingerprint—is a singular marvel, unmatched in all of human history. A quiet reminder that no one else can offer the world what you can. Your perspective, your voice, your courage, your way of caring—these are your tools. Learn to use them with intention, and you’ll never lack direction.

To my mentors and colleagues—thank you for shaping me. To the clients and animals who trust me—thank you for teaching me. The work is often hard, but the joy runs deep. I still love what I do. I’m living my passion, and I step into each new day with gratitude and wonder.

Tempus fugit—time flies. But what a remarkable flight it’s been.

And that is my take.
N. Isaac Bott, DVM