My Take Tuesday: When the Pavement Burns

I love summertime.

I love the smell of campfire smoke clinging to a hoodie after a night beneath a sky full of stars. I love the thunder of hooves at the rodeo, the twang of a guitar drifting across a county fairground, and the gentle splash of a fishing line breaking the surface of still water. I love that people seem to smile a little more in June and July. Maybe it is the sunshine. Maybe it is the way backyard barbecues, family reunions, and long evenings somehow bring us all a little closer together.

Summer has always felt like a season of freedom.

But as a veterinarian, I have learned that summer also carries a shadow.

Every year, I see it arrive at the clinic door.

It comes in the form of panting, trembling dogs whose bodies have become furnaces they can no longer cool. Their tongues are bright red. Their eyes are glazed. Their hearts race desperately beneath coats that trap heat they cannot escape. Heat stroke does not knock politely. It barges in without warning.

And it does not just claim the old or the frail. It takes the healthy, the young, and the energetic. The dog who was “only going to be in the truck for a minute.”

The dog who chased the ball one throw too many.

I will never forget a black Labrador brought to me after a family barbecue. Earlier that afternoon, he had been the life of the party—running with the kids, stealing hot dogs from the edge of the grill, tail wagging nonstop. He was doing exactly what Labradors do best: enjoying every second of life.

Until he wasn’t.

By the time his family carried him into the clinic, he was already slipping away. His temperature was 107 degrees. Despite every effort, we could not save him.

That is one of the heartbreaking things about dogs.

They love too hard and quit too late.

They will keep running long after their bodies are begging them to stop. They will keep following you, chasing the ball, hiking the trail, and soaking up every moment of your attention. They do not complain. They do not ask for a break.

And sometimes, by the time they show us they are in trouble, it is already too late.

So here is my summertime plea.

If the pavement is too hot for your bare feet, it is too hot for their paws.

If it is too hot for you to sit comfortably in a parked vehicle with the windows cracked, it is too hot for them—even for “just a minute.”

If your dog is panting heavily, drooling excessively, slowing down, stumbling, vomiting, or acting confused, pay attention. Stop the activity. Find shade. Offer cool water. Begin cooling them and seek veterinary care immediately.

And do not let a few clouds or a gentle breeze fool you. Utah heat has a way of sneaking up on both people and pets.

I want your dogs to enjoy summer just as much as you do. I want them at the fishing hole, wagging their tails beside the campfire, or curled up on the porch after a day at the lake. But I also want them alive. Safe. With you.

So, when the thermometer climbs and the pavement begins to burn, be their voice. Be their common sense. Be their protector when they are simply too happy to know better.

There is nothing better than summertime.

Let’s make sure everyone gets to enjoy it.

And that is My Take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM