My Take Tuesday: The Christmas Cactus

I never did get to meet my paternal grandmother. Her name was Caroline Westover Bott. She died several years before I was born. I wish I could have gotten to know her. I have heard stories about her humorous personality and just how kind and sweet she was.

Her favorite plant was called a Christmas cactus. This plant  is a long lived plant with flat, segmented stems. Most of the year its appearance is fairly unassuming. It seems to be just a regular potted green in the corner of the living room.

Around Christmas, however, something magical happens.

With care, this plain looking plant will blossom with beautiful pink flowers. Because of this festive seasonal bloom, the Christmas cactus is a tradition in many European and North American homes during the holidays.

After my grandmother died, her husband and children continued to take care of her Christmas cactus.

Caring for this plant is much more intense than other common house plants. Despite its name, the Christmas cactus is not a desert plant, but rather has its origins in the tropical rain forests of South America.

In fall, night temperatures around 50-55 degrees will trigger Christmas cactus to form flower buds. A carefully monitored balance of darkness and sunlight will give you beautiful blooms in time for the holidays. My uncle Jerry faithfully took care of this plant year after year until he died two years ago.

One of my favorite Christmas memories is setting around this plant on Christmas morning and opening presents. I will forever treasure this family time and the pleasant memories that remain.

Another unique feature of this segmented plant is its ability to propagate. By transplanting a cutting of at least three stem segments into a small pot of soil (preferably taken from the pot of the parent plant). At least one segment is then buried. With care and time the plant will take root.

A couple of years before my uncle Jerry passed away, he gave me a small transplant from this Christmas cactus that belonged to my grandma. As it brilliantly bloomed during this holiday season, I longed to spend time with my loved ones that have passed away. I am so grateful for this tangible legacy that will continue to live on and be passed on to my children. It is my own little piece of a holiday tradition that lives on all year long. I cherish my Christmas cactus and the family ties it symbolizes.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Christmas

Growing up my family had some wonderful christmas traditions. I vividly remember each Christmas. I particularly remember the activities we had on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day each year.

Santa Claus will not leave any presents if you are awake when he comes. Each of us knew that for certain, yet the natural curiosity and excitement of Christmas made it difficult for us to fall asleep.

My dad was aware of this, and each Christmas Eve he would take us out for an activity to wear us out physically in the hopes that it would help us sleep soundly that evening. I remember each Christmas Eve we would go on hikes in the nearby hills or we would play a competitive game of basketball. Our endless energy would be spent, in part on these activities.

After the Christmas Eve activities, we would have a Bott family Christmas party. My fondest memories of this happened at my parents house. Uncle Chris and Aunt Diane would bring their kids. Jeannie, Jerry and Jeffry would also always come. We would laugh and sing and would have a wonderful meal. The highlight of the night was always opening White Elephant gifts. The gifts were classic gag gifts and were absolutely hilarious. Many gifts made yearly returns to the exchange. One would learn to decipher the weight and size of packages to avoid receiving these gifts. I remember in high school I had to work one Christmas Eve. I was so sad to have to miss the family party. I remember longing to be with my family on that particular Christmas Eve.

Christmas morning began early. My siblings and I were well accustomed to waking up at 5 AM to feed the animals and milk the cows. Sleeping in on Christmas just didn’t make much sense. We would wait in our bedrooms until dad came to lead us out. He would cover our eyes and lead us to the other side of the dark living room. Once we were all together, Mom and Dad would turn the lights on. We each had a spot for our presents. We would rush to these locations. We were allowed to only ask for 3 things for christmas, and we would first look for those items we wanted so badly.

Following this, we would head across the street to feed the animals and milk the cows. Even on Christmas this task was necessary. We would complete it as fast as possible, for the day was just beginning.

Upon returning to the house, we would eat breakfast. I remember Egg Nog always being there. We would also have fresh oranges and cereal.

In today’s skeptical fast-paced world, our busy lives often keep us from enjoying the simplest of life’s pleasures. One of my favorite Christmas traditions is to read an old newspaper entry that was written more than a century ago.

Eight-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York’s Sun in 1897, asking the direct question, “Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?”

The response by Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history’s most reprinted newspaper editorial:

“VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”

May each of us take a moment to enjoy the simple things today. As long as there is a sunset, there will be always be moments of joy and gladness for each of us.

I recollect with fondness the traditions my family shared. The presents are gone. The shoes and clothes are all worn out, but the memories remain. The true meaning of Christmas is, after all, about love. Our Christmases were centered around family. We were together. How grateful I am for that. A quick trip down memory lane rapidly brings back the joy and love we felt each christmas while growing up in Castle Dale.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

Rudy the Reindeer

As a veterinarian, each case I see presents a challenge. Emotionally, each day is filled with both happiness and sadness. Clinical outcomes vary, some patients make it, others do not. Regardless, I give my best to each. I hold a special place in my heart for those pets that couldn’t be saved even with all the resources in the world.

I am fortunate to have the privilege of working on a variety of species. As this month’s Facebook entries on reindeer continue, I am reminded of a unique case with a reindeer named Rudolph.

Rudy, as he was affectionately called, was a unique bull. He did not display the extreme aggression typical of intact male reindeer. He was docile. He knew his name and would come when called. His favorite treat was a handful of rolled corn. During the seasonal displays, he was always popular, especially among the children. Meeting a reindeer named Rudolph is exciting, even for many adults.

Rudolph played a role in my success in reindeer artificial insemination. He was the first male that we were able to successfully collect and freeze. His offspring carry the same docility and unique tractable nature.

Rudy became ill one evening in April. I traveled to Sandy to see what could be done. I found Rudy in rough shape. He was in obvious distress and having difficulty breathing.

After hours of intense care and medical treatment, Rudy did not improve. The cause, a small winter glove that had lodged in his intestine. A careless individual likely left the black glove in his pen during the christmas display season. For whatever reason, it had stayed in the rumen (largest stomach compartment) for several months before entering the small intestine. Reindeer are non discriminate eaters and will literally eat anything that is placed in their pen.

Reindeer are very stoic. They often do not show clinical signs until they are gravely ill. This makes surgical intervention almost impossible. Despite our best efforts, this magnificent animal did not make it.

Often, such is the case in veterinary medicine. Whether it be a dog or cat, or a reindeer or sheep, each deserves to live a life free of pain and suffering. I give up a bit of the peace in my heart each time one does not make it. We all do this. Over time, we feel those missing pieces of peace more and more. Although Rudy did not belong to me, I still had tremendous difficulty saying goodbye.

There is also some good that came from this experience. We were able to freeze over 100 doses of Rudy’s semen. This is stored in liquid nitrogen and will be good indefinitely. Thankfully, Rudy will continue to produce reindeer calves for years to come.

He was truly one of a kind.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: DocBott got ran over by a reindeer!

Many of the pictures I post are of Mountain West Animal Hospital’s resident reindeer. They are very docile and love the attention. Sven and Yuki will pose for photos and love little children. Sven even has a fondness for the color pink.

However, not all reindeer are like this. A male reindeer’s personality changes dramatically as the breeding season approaches. Circulating levels of testosterone dramatically increase in late August. This hormone will make an otherwise tame male become a raging, grunting and aggressive mess.

A couple of years ago, I received a call from a reindeer farmer in northern Utah. He had a male reindeer that had injured the base of his antler. August heat and fresh blood are a recipe for complications due to either a severe bacterial infection and/or disgusting maggots.

I arrived at the farm and immediately realized that the bull was in full rut. I had just left the office and, like a true nerd, had placed an external hard drive for my computer in my front pocket.

The bull was not very happy to be caught. It took three of us to restrain him while I treated his injury. His massive antlers could easily lift us off the ground and fling us in any direction desired.

Just as I finished the treatment, he broke lose. He immediately turned toward me. I had very little time to react. I stood there with empty syringes and iodine in my hands, helpless and very much vulnerable. His attack was swift. A single charge knocked me on the ground.

I lay there struggling to catch my breath. The sudden impact of the ground on my back left me with temporary paralysis of the diaphragm which made it difficult to take a breath. When I finally did breathe, I was bombarded with excruciating pain over the left side of my chest. I reached into my pocket and removed the external hard drive. It was shattered.

I was very much defeated and beaten, but overall ok after I got on my feet. The pain was caused from two cracked ribs. Other than that, I had no further damage from the incident.

I learned my lesson that day. Rutting reindeer cannot be trusted. They are the most dangerous animal I have ever worked with. They make a Jersey dairy bull seem like a young puppy.

I am glad I had the external hard drive in my pocket. The antlers would have easily punctured my lung and inflicted life threatening injuries.

If you ever see a male reindeer grunting, snorting and peeing on itself – STAY AWAY!

You have been warned.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: White Lightning

Reindeer rarely have difficulty giving birth. Fortunately, nature has provided this species with amazing vitality. Young calves stand within minutes of being born. Predation is the primary cause of death in newborn calves. To minimize this, cows synchronize their birthing. If all of the calves are born at the same time, fewer are killed by predators. Gestation length can vary as much as 45 days to accomplish this. Such synchrony is fascinating, but provides considerable challenges with domesticated herds. Occasionally, calves are born premature and lung development is not complete. Sadly, many of these calves die.

As a veterinarian, I perform a considerable number of artificial inseminations on reindeer each year. The calves produced by this procedure are especially valuable. Intense care is given to newborns to ensure the best chances of survival.

A few years back, a young male calf was born during the summer. He had a unique white marking on his nose. This calf was a charmer. We all instantly fell in love with him.

On examination, the calf showed considerable effort in his breathing. His lungs were not working as they should. Research has shown that these calves lack a chemical called Surfactant. Surfactant reduces the surface tension of fluid in the lungs and helps make the small air sacs in the lungs (alveoli) more stable. This keeps them from collapsing when an individual exhales. In preparation for breathing air, fetuses begin making surfactant while still in the the uterus. With some reindeer calves, this production is incomplete when they are born.

Treatment consists of replacement surfactant therapy. This is often not feasible in veterinary medicine because of the high cost of synthetic surfactant. When is is available, it must be administered within 6 hours of birth to be effective.

The second treatment is placing the calf in an incubator (very similar to ones used with human neonates) and administering oxygen. Some calves will improve with this treatment. We placed him inside the oxygen chamber and waited. Feeding was required every 2-3 hours. The first few hours were touch and go, but little by little, improvement was noted. His tiny lungs slowly began to function properly.

Fortunately, such was the case with this beautiful calf. We named him White Lightning, reflecting the distinctive white stripe on his nose.

Miraculously, on this hot summer day, a life was saved. As you can see in the photos, we were all happy to pose with the calf, with the exception of my youngest son, KW. He fortunately has overcome his fear of reindeer. 🙂

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: White Lightning

Reindeer rarely have difficulty giving birth. Fortunately, nature has provided this species with amazing vitality. Young calves stand within minutes of being born. Predation is the primary cause of death in newborn calves. To minimize this, cows synchronize their birthing. If all of the calves are born at the same time, fewer are killed by predators. Gestation length can vary as much as 45 days to accomplish this. Such synchrony is fascinating, but provides considerable challenges with domesticated herds. Occasionally, calves are born premature and lung development is not complete. Sadly, many of these calves die.

As a veterinarian, I perform a considerable number of artificial inseminations on reindeer each year. The calves produced by this procedure are especially valuable. Intense care is given to newborns to ensure the best chances of survival.

A few years back, a young male calf was born during the summer. He had a unique white marking on his nose. This calf was a charmer. We all instantly fell in love with him.

On examination, the calf showed considerable effort in his breathing. His lungs were not working as they should. Research has shown that these calves lack a chemical called Surfactant. Surfactant reduces the surface tension of fluid in the lungs and helps make the small air sacs in the lungs (alveoli) more stable. This keeps them from collapsing when an individual exhales. In preparation for breathing air, fetuses begin making surfactant while still in the the uterus. With some reindeer calves, this production is incomplete when they are born.

Treatment consists of replacement surfactant therapy. This is often not feasible in veterinary medicine because of the high cost of synthetic surfactant. When is is available, it must be administered within 6 hours of birth to be effective.

The second treatment is placing the calf in an incubator (very similar to ones used with human neonates) and administering oxygen. Some calves will improve with this treatment. We placed him inside the oxygen chamber and waited. Feeding was required every 2-3 hours. The first few hours were touch and go, but little by little, improvement was noted. His tiny lungs slowly began to function properly.

Fortunately, such was the case with this beautiful calf. We named him White Lightning, reflecting the distinctive white stripe on his nose.

Miraculously, on this hot summer day, a life was saved. As you can see in the photos, we were all happy to pose with the calf, with the exception of my youngest son, KW. He fortunately has overcome his fear of reindeer. 🙂

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

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.

Happy Thanksgiving!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

What are your thoughts?

My Take Tuesday: Thanksgiving Dinner in Emery, Utah

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 makes 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 usually end up sitting with my cousins around the TV, watching a football game or laughing hysterically at the Farley Family Reunion 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.

Since yesterdays are gone, and tomorrows are never promised, lets 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: Black Friday

It was a beautiful Friday in late November. The animals were standing, by the thousands, crowded in the isle. The primitive fight or flight instinct had clearly pushed towards the fight response on this particular day. This mammal known as man is best avoided on the day after Thanksgiving. In years past, I stood in these massive lines just to get a good deal, after all, nothing says “America” like fighting over a TV at Walmart.

This particular Black Friday, however, was spent driving to and from farms in Utah County tending to a variety of sick animals. What began as a perfect day, quickly took a turn for the worst.

The Mare’s name was Dollar. She was a beautiful sorrel. She had recently given birth to a healthy young filly. Shortly after foaling, she developed severe lameness in all four of her feet. Her condition quickly deteriorated and she was barely able to walk when I arrived. To make matters worse, Dollar had developed severe colic, a term referring to abdominal pain in horses. Her intense pain was caused by gut spasms and every few minutes she would suddenly drop to the ground and roll.

Upon arrival, I performed a thorough physical examination. I then administered a mild intravenous sedative and passed a tube through her nose and into her stomach. I then pumped in a half-gallon of mineral oil.

The next treatment in a case like this is to administer a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory to help with the pain. The two most common drugs that veterinarians use in this case are Phenylbutazone (commonly called Bute) and Banamine.

For me on this particular day, I reached for a bottle of Banamine. With the needle in my right hand and the syringe in my shirt pocket, I held off the jugular vein with my left hand. Dollar didn’t flinch as I quickly slipped the needle into her vein. With dark blood slowly dripping out the needle hub, I reattached the syringe and steadied my hand against her neck. Just then, a gut spasm hit, Dollar jumped up and staggered sideways. I quickly sidestepped in an effort to remain in a position where I could inject the medicine.

Without warning, and before I had injected any appreciable amount of Banamine, she reared up on her back legs. I retracted the needle immediately and instinctively stepped backwards. The momentum of her rearing up and me pulling back made me momentarily lose my balance. I pulled my right arm abruptly to the side of my body to avoid falling over. As I did so, the large bore 18 gauge needle plunged over an inch and a half straight into the right side of my abdomen. The needle entered about 6” to the right of my navel and 3” below my last rib. I felt intense pain as the needle cut through my skin, subcutaneous fat, and abdominal muscle. The hub of the needle was nestled flush against my brown Carhartt Jacket. During my split-second of inattentiveness approximately 2 mls of Banamine was injected directly into my abdominal cavity.

Immediately, I grimaced in pain. The owner of the mare looked at me as I pulled the bloody needle from my abdomen. “Are you ok?,” he inquired, “Did you just stab yourself?”

“I sure did,” I groaned.

The pain was incredible. It was so severe, that I actually laid right down in the stall and waited for the stinging to subside. It felt as though some one was burning with a branding iron.

After nearly a half an hour, I was able to stand up and walk back over to the mare and administer the Banamine properly. I then climbed in my truck and immediately headed to the doctor’s office.

There are some veterinary drugs which are fatal when injected into humans; fortunately for me Banamine isn’t one of them. Although it relieves pain when administered intravenously in horses, I learned that day that when administered outside a vein, the effects are the total opposite.

It stung far worse than any insect sting or abdominal pain I have experienced.

“You what?”, The doctor blurted out, “How much did you inject?”

My physician is unique. His father is a veterinarian. He was raised at a veterinary clinic and spend his youth helping his father in a general mixed-animal practice. Fortunately, he knew exactly what Banamine was and what he needed to do to treat me.

Afterwards, he laughed as he reminded me, “Hey Doc, keep that needle pointed away from you next time!”

I most certainly learned a painful lesson that Back Friday.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM