Gratitude – Is it uniquely human?

Anthropomorphism is the attribution of human characteristics, such as emotion, to animals. While such comparisons are often inaccurate, there is some evidence that gives some merit to these comparisons.

Impala are large antelopes native to Africa that have been observed grooming each other. These grooming exchanges among African impala are usually unsolicited: one individual grooms the neck of a second individual, and then the second individual returns the favor, and grooms the first individual for an equivalent amount of time. It is thought that this mutual grooming behavior serves to remove ticks from parts of the body that an individual can’t reach itself.

Vampire bats, as you might expect, survive only on blood, and most feed at least once every three days. And while adult vampire bats regularly miss meals, they need not worry, as other individuals will regurgitate blood to feed them.

While the impala and vampire bat examples are interesting, they can be explained by much a simpler mechanism than gratitude: researchers call it symmetry-based reciprocity. That is, if members of a species preferentially direct favors to close associates, the distribution of favors will automatically be reciprocal due to the symmetrical nature of association. In other words, the mutual back-scratching of the impala and blood-vomiting of the vampire bat could simply be correlational: individuals who hang out together will tend to engage in reciprocal interactions, but only because they tend to hang out together.

In other species, the behavior extends beyond what is described above. For example, the common exchange of food for grooming among chimpanzees. To look at this further, researchers placed bundles of leaves and branches in the chimpanzee enclosures after the they had identified the patterns of grooming on a specific day. The adult chimps were more likely to share food with individuals who had groomed them earlier that same day.

In another experiment, primatologists Seyfarth and Cheney played recordings of vervet monkey calls and measured the reaction of recently groomed individuals. The type of vocalization that they used was a call used to threaten enemies and to solicit the support of friends, in anticipation of a conflict. When the recording was of a previous grooming partner, vervet monkeys paid more attention than when the recordings were of other individuals.

Taken together, these studies indicate that some non-human primates have the long-term memory abilities required for gratitude, as well as the ability to distinguish among individuals.

Another experience was described by a separate researcher. He tells a story about how two chimps had been shut out of their shelter by mistake during a cold rain storm. They were standing dejected, water streaming down their shivering bodies, when the researcher chanced to pass. Upon opening the door for the two chimps, Dr. James Leuba recounts, “instead of scampering in without more ado, as many a child would have done, each of them delayed entering the warm shelter long enough to throw its arms around his benefactor in a frenzy of satisfaction.”

Do animals have gratitude? It is still a much debated question. However, it is clear that some animals, such as chimpanzees and other non-human primates, seem to possess at least a more basic form of proto-gratitude, based on their ability to keep track of favors given to and received from different individuals.

When pets are rescued and adopted, they seem to display a greater-than-average appreciation (e.g. tail wagging, purring) of our care and for the food we give them. I have witnessed this time and time again.

I believe gratitude is a shared emotion.

I hope each of you have a Happy Thanksgiving!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Thanksgiving Dinner in Emery, Utah

This past year has been brutal. During the summer, my maternal grandparents quietly left this world just 40 days apart. They were just a few months away from their 72^nd anniversary. I struggle to find the words that can adequately express the profound sadness that I feel and the immense hole that their passing has left behind. I long for one more hug, one more visit, one more meal, or even better one last Thanksgiving. 

The sense of smell is closely linked with memory, probably more so than any of our other senses. Those with full olfactory function may be able to think of smells that evoke particular memories; for me, the smell of turkey in the oven takes me back to Thanksgivings of long ago. As this homeward journey begins, I find myself seated at a table in my grandparents’ house in Emery, UT.

Grandma made the best food! The fresh baked rolls, the stuffing, the potatoes, roasted butternut squash – each dish renders a unique and enticing smell. With the ever-more ready turkey roasting in the oven, these combine, creating a signature fragrance greeting guests the moment they step through the front door. We salivate as we anxiously await the assortment of generations of family recipes cooked to perfection.

I remember exactly where I sat at the table, facing south, sitting across from my siblings and cousins. The sounds of the adults in the kitchen enjoying a home cooked meal as the delectable smells, good conversation, and the comfortable atmosphere make me feel at peace. As I close my eyes, I readily am able to conjure a significant mental image of Thanksgiving dinners at the home of Hugh and Shonna Peterson.

The joyous bustle and the incessant hum of conversation combine to create a warm atmosphere. The stokermatic furnace in the living room, with its gentle smell of burning coal, adds to the homey ambiance. As we reminisce and laugh, we give our diets a hall pass, stuffing ourselves in a way we would never dream of the other 364 days of the year. But more than the food we savor, it is the scent of the feast that we love and the constancy of family that makes us so complete.

After eating, I would usually end up playing card games with grandma or sitting with my cousins around the TV, watching a football game or laughing hysterically at the James Arrington one man show Farley Family Reunion on VHS.

Later on, I return to the warm glow of the kitchen, just in time to hear my grandpa telling a story from his younger days. I have never met anyone that can tell a story like Hugh Peterson. His excellent memory weaves a tapestry of nostalgia. With each word we move closer to the edge of our seats. With a smile on his face, and just a tad of embellishment, he tells a story like a boss. He makes us all literally laugh until we cry.

I will forever cherish these memories and conversations around the dinner table in Emery, Utah. They will forever remain a refreshing change from the chaos of everyday life. I will always remember the Peterson Family Thanksgivings as one of my most precious memories.

Life is full of little moments of joy, so fleeting, that they are often unappreciated. In today’s extremely fast-paced world, our busy lives often keep us from enjoying the simplest of life’s pleasures. Like you feel just good enough to appreciate a sunset, the smell of freshly cut grass, or the bright amber moon rising in the east above the Wasatch Mountains.

Since yesterdays are gone, and tomorrows are never promised, let’s make this Thanksgiving count. Spend time with family and friends. Let us love and laugh and live in the moment. Be sure to spend time with the people in your life who want you to be in theirs. Cherish the people in your life who accept you for who you are, support you in the things you chose to do and, no matter what, are there for you.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Reflection

The wind howled, its lonesome lullaby piercing my ears as I turned up my coat collar. The desolate country lay still, with its towering stone cliffs and sage brush interrupted only occasionally by small clumps of cedar trees. The trail I was climbing was built by the CCC project (Civilian Conservation Corps) in the 1930’s during the Great Depression. The winding trail jots back and forth in a switchback as it leads to the south end of Trail Mountain.

I stood in awe as I gazed at the clear smooth reflective surface of Joe’s Valley Reservoir. The water was as smooth as glass and the towering mountains seemed to peer back from the water.

I have so many childhood memories of hiking this trail with my family, of fishing in the lake below and of family reunions with loved ones who are no longer here.

This is home. There is something about Emery County that heals my soul. This is my constancy and my serene sanctuary where I can reflect and recharge.

At its simplest, reflection is about careful thought. But the kind of reflection that is most valuable is more nuanced than that. The most useful reflection involves the conscious consideration and analysis of beliefs and actions for the purpose of learning. Reflection gives the brain an opportunity to pause amidst the chaos, untangle and sort through observations and experiences, consider multiple possible interpretations, and create meaning. This meaning becomes learning, which can then inform future mindsets and actions.

A reflective period need not be a time to be unduly harsh with ourselves, but rather to be lovingly honest. To be firm yet forgiving. After all, endless rumination and self-recrimination keeps us trapped in a past we cannot change, and no one benefits from this. An attitude of self-forgiveness can liberate us from old patterns or ways of being that we likely adopted for a reason, but that do not serve us nor adequately reflect who we are and who we’d like to be.

Taking time to reflect will most certainly help you recharge. It will help you refocus, and it will bring feelings of gratitude and purpose that are otherwise never experienced.

Try it. You will not regret it.

If you need a spot, there is a place along the CCC trail high above the world’s most beautiful reservoir just west of Castle Dale, Utah.

And that is My Take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Yo quiero bite you!

Often “the question” comes up during a routine appointment. Curiosity is naturally sparked with my response.
The question is, succinctly put, “Doc, what breed of dog bites you the most?”

The answer is unequivocally the chihuahua. Of the dozens of bites that I have received, a vast majority came from chihuahuas.
Chihuahuas are comical, entertaining, and loyal little dogs, absolutely brimming with personality – often a quirky and eccentric personality unmatched by any other breed.

Some of my sweetest patients are chihuahuas. They are affectionate and loving.But every once in a while, a mean one comes along.

While a bite from a Chihuahua isn’t going to inflict the same damage as a bite from a larger dog like a Vizsla or a Boxer, it can still leave a painful wound that’s prone to infection. There’s an old myth that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s mouth, but this isn’t true. Whenever a pet bites, there is significant risk of infection.

While Chihuahuas are not naturally more aggressive than any other breed, they seem to be prone to react with aggression out of fear. Veterinarians are often the target of such aggression, simply because dogs are fearful of unfamiliar people and situations.
As a recent graduate, I was learning how to diagnose, treat and cure the routine cases that present daily. I had only been a veterinarian for about a month when I learned my lesson.

It was a routine appointment. Annual vaccinations and a wellness exam were needed. As I entered the room, Chispa, sat on the table glaring at me. As I reached down to auscultate the heart and lungs, Chispa absolutely went ballistic. Within 5 seconds, she had peed and soiled all over the tabletop. Instinctively, I reached for a muzzle. As I attempted to place the muzzle on her, she absolutely lost it.

Just like a loud clap of thunder that follows a flash of lightning; when I am bit by a dog, imprecations are sure to follow.
Chispa sunk her needle like teeth into my right hand and bit me again and again.

Before I could even mutter the phrase, “Oh S#*!”, this little devil had bitten me three times.

Her only goal seemed to be to inflict as much damage as possible to the man in a white coat that was reaching for her.
Blood poured down my hand. I sat stunned. I have fast reflexes; after all, I dodge bites and scratches on a daily basis.

What was different about this experience? Perhaps it was in the name. “Chispa” is a Spanish word meaning “spark”. Certainly, the fiery personality and name fit this small canine.

The rapidity of the attack taught me a lesson. I am much more careful now when dealing with seemingly innocent small pets. I do my best to reduce the fear and anxiety that accompanies a visit to the veterinarian.

And I am especially careful with pets that have incendiary names such as Diablo, Fuego, Demonio, Pyro, Hades, and believe it or not, Fluffy.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Halloween

I love this time of year! The cool fall breeze, the crisp chill to the air, the brilliant, gilded glory of the golden aspen and cottonwood leaves, the deep red of the sugar maple and scrub oak bushes all bring out the best of nature’s canvas and bring a profound sense of relaxation to my senses. With all of the sadness in the world today, we are in desperate need of a new beginning, a comforting time to reset, a beauty that comes around every year in the form of autumn. 

This is the season of the harvest moon, pumpkins, football games and corn mazes. The smell of the first fire in a wood burning stove, and the taste of hot apple cider all create an olfactory bonanza and take me back to days of long ago. I think about my childhood, pumpkin pie, Halloween carnivals at Castle Dale Elementary, and the magic in a young boy’s hopes and dreams.

Nostalgia can be like a fun-house mirror, so any claims that “back in my day, we went trick-or-treating until midnight,” while kids these days are forced to make do with half an hour of highly supervised trick-or-treating before sunset, are surely a slight distortion.

Still, it seems like the tradition of going door-to-door demanding candy is not quite what it used to be. Over the past couple of years, as Halloween has come and gone, large “trunk or treating” events (in which community members circle up their cars, fling their trunks open, decorate them, and fill them with candy, and then have their kids make the rounds in a parking lot) have slowly replaced the door-to-door adventures I so fondly recall. 

I remember one year especially well. The late October wind was serene and tranquil as the bold orange sun faded into the seemingly empty autumn evening sky west of Ferron, Utah. Crisp shades of red, yellow, and orange from fallen leaves, formed a thin layer over the brown lawns of the neighborhood.

I set out with my friend Jake Bulkley on an epic trick-or-treat adventure in the small town of Ferron, Utah. I remember walking along 500 South carrying brightly colored plastic buckets filled with what seemed like endless supplies of Sour Patch Kids, Jaw Breakers, Lemon Heads, Candy Corn and Reese’s Peanut Cups. We felt like we had a successful candy haul until Jake’s younger sisters arrived home carrying pillowcases filled to the brim with candy. They had followed the exact same route, but somehow ended up with ten-fold the amount of candy. It was at the moment that I realized that trick or treating was for children younger than me. Jake and I decided our time would be better spent doorbell ditching and performing other typical teenage boy pranks. Jake and I still laugh to this day about our mischievous fall adventures we had while attending San Rafael Junior High.

Halloween for me is still filled with unpredictable adventures. As a veterinarian, I encounter more black cats than the average person. October 31st is always a busy day at Mountain West Animal Hospital. Although this is a fun holiday for us, Halloween can be precarious for our four-legged family members. Keeping our pets safe is a year-round job, requiring special attention during the holidays and special occasions. Pets chew up and eat things humans never would think of consuming. Here are a few pointers to keep your pets safe this Halloween:

1. Don’t feed your pets Halloween candy, especially if it contains xylitol (a common sugar substitute found in sugar-free candies and gum); or chocolate. 

2. Make sure your pet is properly identified (microchip, collar and ID tag) in case s/he escapes through the open door while you’re distracted with trick-or-treaters.

3. Keep lit candles and jack-o-lanterns out of reach of pets.

4. If you plan to put a costume on your pet, make sure it fits properly and is comfortable, doesn’t have any pieces that can easily be chewed off, and doesn’t interfere with your pet’s sight, hearing, breathing, opening its mouth, or moving. Take time to get your pet accustomed to the costume before Halloween, and never leave your pet unsupervised while he/she is wearing a costume.

5. Keep glow sticks and glow jewelry away from your pets. Although the liquid in these products isn’t likely toxic, it tastes really bad and makes pets salivate excessively and act strangely.

6. If your pet is wary of strangers or has a tendency to bite, put him/her in another room during trick-or-treating hours or provide him/her with a safe hiding place.

7. Keep your pet inside. This is the easiest way to keep them safe.

Have a safe and fun Halloween!

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: A Scar

Last year, after a long day at work, I slipped while using a knife and cut a large section of skin off the tip of my left middle finger. The pain was excruciating as I drove to the urgent care clinic. Because of the location and size of the wound, suturing it closed wasn’t an option. I was stuck wearing a large band-aid on my finger for the next few weeks. The occasional throbbing and tingling sensation reminded me throughout each day to be careful as I examined pets and went about my usual routine. I certainly have a good scar on the tip of my finger from this injury.

My left hand has been injured many times during my lifetime. Each of these injuries has left a unique scar. Each represent the best healing scenario for the injury sustained. Each scar has taught me how to deal with pain, how to be strong and each leave a detailed memory about how and when each injury happened. The most prominent of these scars is on my pointer finger.

You can definitely see it if you look close enough, each time I extend my left hand with my palm down. It runs nearly perpendicular to the axis of my index finger.

Scars are a physical reminder of our own survival. They tell a story about places that you’ve been. They are tangible roadmaps to life’s lessons learned.

Every time I notice the scar on my finger, my mind travels back to my senior year of veterinary school in 2008. My best friends from veterinary school, Dan and Travis, were with me on this wild adventure.
It was a beautiful November day in Emmett, Idaho. The crisp fall air and dark yellow leaves of the cottonwood trees reminded me why this was my favorite time of the year.

During my last year of veterinary school, an entire month was spent at the Caine Veterinary Teaching Center in Caldwell, ID. This provided hands on training in a variety of agricultural species. Our days were spent on massive dairy operations, in the classroom and at livestock auctions.

On this particular day the sale yard was full. Cattle of every breed, gender and size were being sold and sorted through the sale barn.

My tasks were simple: 1) Vaccinate the females between 4-10 months of age. 2) Diagnose pregnancy in adult females. 3) An occasional bull calf would also need to be castrated.

Often cattle are sold because of their disposition. Wild, aggressive and flighty cattle are difficult to handle. Studies have shown a lower pregnancy rate among beef cattle that are flighty. Farmers are quick to cull cows that exhibit these traits. Therefore, wild and crazy cattle are prevalent at a livestock auction. Extreme care must be taken to avoid injury.

Facilities to process cattle make all of the difference for a veterinarian. It is very dangerous to attempt to process cattle in a rickety old squeeze chute. Unfortunately, too many sale barns have cattle handling facilities that leave much to be desired.

A black Angus calf entered the chute. I had castrated many calves before this and was very comfortable with the procedure. To facilitate castration, I entered the squeeze chute behind the calf. I reached down and made an incision. The calf immediately jumped and kicked. His right hind leg hit my right hand with incredible accuracy. The knife, still held securely in my right hand, plunged downward. The blade entered the index finger of my left hand, right between the first and second knuckles. The blade sank deep, and only stopped as it hit the bone in my finger.

The pain was immediate. I quickly exited the chute, holding my left hand tightly. Blood poured down my hand and dropped on the ground.

The professor asked, “What happened?”

“I cut myself,” I responded.

As I stepped away from the squeeze chute, I glanced down at my finger. The open wound gushed blood. I immediately became light headed and nearly fainted as I stumbled to the truck.

I wrapped my finger tightly and headed to the nearest urgent care clinic. The throbbing pain seems to peak with each heartbeat.

After a couple hours and a few sutures, I was back at the sale yard. The remainder of the day went smoothly.

I will forever carry a reminder of that November day in Emmett, Idaho. Although time tends to color our memories optimistically, I still remember the painful lesson I learned that day.

Such is life. The ups and downs leave us battered and scarred. But with time, things get better. The pain won’t always be there and someday we will look back at each scrape and scratch and be reminded that scars are beautiful.

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

My Take Tuesday: Playing Possum

Fall has arrived in the Wasatch Mountains. The beautiful red and yellow mountainsides that surround Utah Valley are a sign of the changing weather. The olive-green leaves of the quaking aspen groves are quickly changing to orange and brilliant yellow.

I love this time of year! The cool, crisp, fall air, the warm evenings and cold mornings signal the arrival of October. I enjoy the first day that is just chilly enough for a flannel shirt and the taste of a cup of hot apple cider, and the smell of wood-smoke beginning to billow from the chimneys.

There is much to accomplish before winter sets in. It is a busy time for me as a veterinarian. Sheep, goats, reindeer and elk breeding seasons require traveling all over the country as I provide assisted reproductive techniques on farms and ranches from Alaska to Arizona, and from Texas to Oregon.

Local farmers are bringing their cattle and sheep home from summer ranges and are preparing their horses for winter.

A recent farm call brought me to the beautiful grass pastures south of Salem, Utah. The owner, a friend of mine, met me at the beautiful wooden fence at the entrance to his pasture. A large Percheron draft horse was undergoing a routine hoof trim and the farrier was having some difficulty. This massive animal would not allow its left hindlimb to be trimmed.

I administered an intravenous sedative as soon as I arrived at the farm. This sedative works almost instantaneously. The huge draft horse’s head tilted downwards as his lower lip began to sag. Typically, this allows for quick non-painful procedures to be performed without protest from the horse.

The farrier attempted to lift the left rear limb after the sedative kicked in. Immediately, the horse angrily slammed down its massive hoof in a stubborn response. Because of the danger of such a large animal kicking and injuring all involved, I quickly made the decision to administer general anesthesia and to lay the animal down on the soft grass of the beautiful pasture.

Ketamine is commonly used in horses. It is of the cyclohexamine class of anesthetics. It is effective at rendering the animal motionless. The difficulty is safely getting a 2000 pound horse to lay down and get back up afterwards without injuring itself or landing on me. It is terrifying to stand next to an animal over 8 feet tall as it falls to the ground asleep. I take extreme caution in where I stand, how I place my hands on the halter, and how I am going to get to safety if something goes wrong.

As I administered the ketamine in the massive jugular vein, the large animal smoothly slumped and laid down as it entered a deep sleep. I positioned myself on the neck of the sleeping giant, as the farrier and my friend began the process of trimming the problematic hoof.

A group of curious pasture mates began to form in a circle around us as we worked. These inquisitive horses couldn’t figure out why this large Percheron, the alpha and bully of the herd, was sleeping in the middle of the day.

A sorrel gelding flared his nostrils as he sniffed the face of the napping equine. I reached out and touched his nose to assure him everything was alright.

Suddenly, without warning, this gelding stomped his right front hoof directly on the face of the sleeping horse. My fingers were just centimeters away from the hoof hammer as it came down. I gasped in bewilderment at what had just happened. Suddenly, I felt the giant underneath me move. Within a second, the large Percheron went from being sound asleep to standing up and alert. This rapid motion gave me little time to respond. I was flung like a rag doll from atop the neck of this huge animal. The soft grass broke my fall as I came crashing down.

The three of us looked at each other in disbelief about what had just occurred. Fortunately, we were all safe and unharmed and the horse was unaffected by the stomp on its face.

Sometimes the unpredictable is best met with humor. A roar of laughter erupted as we replayed the sight of me flying headfirst through the air.

Even though Utah is not home to the mischievous opossum, there is a large Percheron draft horse in the pastures south of Salem that can play the part extremely well!

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Skunked

A few months back, a Boy Scout troop stopped by the clinic at the end of the day for a tour. As I showed them around and answered their questions, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my time as a boy scout.

The year was 1995.

Boy scout troop 306 of the Castle Dale 1st Ward embarked on a week long 50 mile hike during the month of July. The hike began on a Monday at Ferron reservoir and ended on Saturday at Indian Creek Campground in the beautiful Manti Lasal National Forest.

As a 14 year old kid, I was just like most of the other boys in my troop: wholly naive and completely unaware of my ignorance. My sense of adventure far outweighed sound logic and I was prone to encounter trouble because of my mischievous nature. My little brother Caleb and my best friend Zac were my partners in crime and were witnesses to myriads of situations that shaped our imaginative Boy Scout days working on merit badges, monthly camp outs and high adventure events that eventually led to each of us earning the rank of Eagle Scout. These experiences consequently helped make us into the men we are today.

On the second night of this long hike, we made camp at a place called Cove Lake. This beautiful lake is just a few miles from the scenic skyline drive and is nestled in a large grove of Douglas Fir and Ponderosa pines.

As Boy Scouts do, we set out to set up camp and explore the lake. We soon found out that we were not the only species inhabiting the camp on this particular night. We shared the campsite with one of the most widely distributed mammals in North America, Mephitis mephitis, or the common striped skunk. The fecund creatures were everywhere. As we floated around the lake on a makeshift raft, we could see dozens of them around the waters edge.

We clearly had a dilemma. Almost immediately, the skunks began ransacking our tents and food supply. These smelly striped critters were endlessly curious about the bipedal invasive species that had entered their territory.

Passive in nature, skunks will avoid contact with humans and domestic animals; however, when challenged they are amply prepared to protect themselves.

If a skunk feels threatened, it will give a warning which includes hissing, stomping of feet, and elevation of the tail. Failure to heed the warning signs will result in the unlucky aggressor being sprayed with the skunk’s anal gland secretions. Skunks are highly accurate in their aim and can spray 7 to 15 feet away!

A dozen rambunctious boys were immediately perceived as a threat by the striped beast. They seemed to coordinate the invasion of the camp, approaching from all directions.

A scout watching the skunk rodeo spoke to me, “Hey Isaac, if you hold a skunk by its tail it can’t spray you.”

The notion had some truthiness to it, after all, if it can’t plant its feet it likely wouldn’t be able to empty its scent glands.

Without any further thought, I reached out and grabbed the nearest skunk by the tail. I lifted it directly in the air and held it suspended with my arms straight out.

The little guy simply twirled slightly and lined his backside to my face and fiercely sprayed with all that he had.

It went directly in my mouth and up my nose. It covered my entire face and some even got in my eyes.

I immediately began vomiting uncontrollably. By eyes burned and my vision became blurry.

What a lesson! Take my word for it, a skunk can certainly spray when it’s feet aren’t off the ground. This equivocated logic is dangerous.

As Mark Twain once observed, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

The odeur fetide that I experienced is actually a thick, volatile, oily liquid that obtains its pungency from sulfur-based thiols. There in nothing that smells worse than skunk spray inside your nose!

It took weeks before I stopped smelling skunk.

Frantically, I raided the food tent in search of cans of tomato juice. I found 8 cans and a can opener. I then took a tomato shower. I scrubbed my head in it, my whole body was covered in tomatoes. You haven’t lived until you take a shower in tomato sauce.

The rest of the week proved to be much less adventurous. I was forced to sleep in my own tent and I walked behind everyone else along the trails.

Now when I see a skunk, I give it plenty of space. And I tell everyone that I can that contrary to popular myth, a skunk can spray even when being held off the ground by its tail!

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Attribute of Adaptability

The Rocky Mountain elk (Cervus canadensis nelsoni) became the official State animal of Utah in 1971. Elk are also known as wapiti. Tis term originates from the Shawnee and Cree word ‘waapiti’, meaning ‘white rump’. Elk are members of the deer family and associate closely with the deer and moose of Utah. 

Elk, no matter what time of year, are a remarkable sight. So large in stature, these animals have become an admired icon of the American West. Elk are amazingly adaptable and can live almost anywhere—forests, deserts, mountains, and plains. They eat a wide variety of plants. Their typical diet consists of grasses (year-round), woody plants (winter) and forbs (summer). This adaptability is unique and ensures the species survival.

As a child growing up near the Manti LaSal National Forest, I frequently encountered these animals in the wild. I remember camping in the crisp early fall. The tranquility of those nights is unparalleled. The silence was only occasionally broken by the phenomenon known as bugling. This distinctive vocalization begins deep and resonant and becomes a high-pitched squeal before ending in a succession of grunts.  It is a sound that will hasten the heart rate of even the most seasoned of outdoorsmen. The noise echoes through the pines. Such an experience is breathtaking.

As a veterinarian, I am privileged to be able to work with a number of herds of elk. I very much enjoy this. Pictured is a herd of elk near Birdseye, UT.

This animal is a symbol of power and strength. It is also a symbol of ultimate freedom.

We can learn a lot from elk. If we were as adaptable as this species, we would thrive in any situation where we are placed. We would be unafraid, undaunted, valiant and courageous.

When I am confronted with changes in life, I always think of the majestic elk.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My stomach ached. Even the warm May weather and the beautiful rolling hills of the Palouse were not able to distract me as I nervously opened the letter. As I read the first paragraph, my heart sank.

“You are ranked in the bottom 10% of your class. Statistically, your chances of passing national boards are reduced.”

Tears streamed down my checks as I read each sentence.

It seemed each word stabbed deeper. Each blow, injuring me mortally. Failure. Disappointment. Shame.

Veterinary school was proving to be much more difficult than I had ever anticipated. Many of my classmates had spent years working at veterinary clinics before entering veterinary school. I had spent less than 50 hours shadowing in a veterinary clinic prior to starting veterinary school. Everything I learned during my first year was new to me. It seemed as though I has so much catching up to do.

I knew that I had struggled in a couple of classes, but I did not realize that my ranking fell at the very bottom of the class. The hours and hours of arduous study led to my passing, albeit just barely, of each of my final examinations.

“How could they be so skeptical?,” I silently asked myself as I reread the letter. “Why don’t they believe in me?”
I felt dejected. I felt abandoned. I felt shamed.

“How am I going to recover from this?,” I wondered as I climbed the steps to my second floor apartment.

Fortunately for me, there was someone to meet with. There was someone to talk to.

Dr. Ruby was a pioneer in Veterinary Medicine. Her visionary approach to veterinary medicine education and its inherent professional maladies were years ahead of the rest of the country. She understood the stress that veterinary students faced, and she confronted these difficult situations head-on.

I remember our first meeting as if it were yesterday. I sat on the couch in her office, trembling, as tears poured down my checks. I described how difficult it was for me to prepare for tests. I discussed the issues I faced with each question on multiple choice examinations.

She patiently listened. And then she listened some more.

And then she guided me through some techniques to help with my anxiety. She identified some patterns that prevented me from thinking through the test questions. She provided resources for me to read. She helped me understand that the issues that I faced were normal. She made me feel that I could do better. She believed in me; I could feel it with each appointment.

Miraculously, as the second year of veterinary school started and the examinations started to dot my schedule, my test scores began to rise. With each passing semester, my performance continued to improve.

My confidence increased as I mastered the material in each class.

By the time graduation came, I felt prepared to enter practice. I hit the ground running and have literally not looked back.

Not only did Dr. Ruby believe in me, but she helped me overcome the serious anxieties that come with the rigorous schedule of professional school.

I look back and wonder why that letter was sent to me. Was it meant to inspire? Was it meant to shame? Was it intended to discourage me? What would have happened if I didn’t have anyone like Dr. Ruby to help me through the darkest times? Would I be where I am today?

Failure is inevitable. It creeps up and stumbles even the most skilled on their path to victory. Our response to it’s overreaching nature is largely what determines our potential. As Alexandre Dumas observed, “There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die… that we may appreciate the enjoyments of life.”

Dr. Ruby has been there for over 2,000 students at WSU over the years. As each class graduates at Washington State University, her influence and vision is passed on to another generation of veterinarians. Her impact is immeasurable. Her legacy is sure. Her vision is cemented in the hearts of those lucky enough to have sat on the couch in her office.

Dr. Ruby is a pioneer. She was one of the first mental health professionals to commit her career to developing wellness programs for the veterinary profession. She has taken on the most difficult challenges facing the veterinary industry. She has educated and counseled thousands of veterinarians about communication skills, stress management, life balance and suicide prevention. She co-founded the Veterinary Leadership Experience, a program that has become the model for veterinary schools around the world. In addition to this, she was also the founding Editor-in-chief of the Veterinary Team Brief, now called Clinician’s Brief, a peer reviewed journal devoted to professional skills. I am not aware of anyone who has given more to the veterinary profession in terms of professional life development, stress management and personal success.

I feel so fortunate as I ponder the influence she has had on me. She believed in me when others didn’t. She encouraged me when I felt like a failure.

How much better would we all be if we had a Dr. Ruby to turn to when adversity and failure creep into our lives?

Dr. Ruby inspired me. She encouraged me to rise to my potential. She helped me increase my capacity and helped me be the best I could be. She taught me that I could make a positive contribution to the profession. She helped me believe in myself.

Thank you Dr Ruby. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for encouraging me when others didn’t. Thank you for your kind and caring counsel. Your influence will forever remain in my heart.

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