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: Airport Security

I tend to be very careful and cautious in my decision making. Most days are uneventful and pass smoothly. However, every once in a while, I will have one of those epic days where I make 4 bad decisions before 9:00 AM.

They say hindsight is 20/20. Looking back, it was clearly a mistake.

I hurriedly prepared my luggage, assuring that everything would fit in a carry on. I have a perfect record, in all of my travels I have never had my luggage lost. Taking a single carry-on bag is the only way to assure your luggage gets to your destination on international flights.

The destination this trip, was the Philippines, and it was my first trip to Asia. I had been called to travel there to assist in establishing both Water Buffalo and deer reproduction programs in this far away country.

I placed my required instruments, long forceps and miscellaneous items used for freezing semen delicately in my bag. The last piece of equipment was something called an electro-ejaculator.

In the practice of veterinary medicine, it is common to collect semen from domestic ruminants using electro-ejaculation.

This instrument is an electric probe that is inserted into the rectum of an animal, adjacent to the prostate gland. The probe delivers an AC voltage, usually 12–24 volts. The probe is activated for 1–2 seconds, referred to as a stimulus cycle. Ejaculation usually occurs after 2–3 stimulus cycles. The instrument fits in your hand and runs on a traditional 9 volt battery, the exact battery most smoke alarms use. It is a valuable tool when collecting semen from agricultural and wild animals.

It fit, without a problem, in my suitcase.

Salt Lake City International Airport was busy on this particular day. The lines extended over the sky bridge and nearly to the parking garage.

I passed through the metal detector and my bag went through the usual belt driven scanner. As I waited for my bag to come out, the operator of the scanner lowered his head and spoke into his mouthpiece. What he said was inaudible, but the response it triggered was anything but quiet.

I was circled by at least 10 TSA agents and hurried off to the far right end of the security entrance. If there ever was a suspicious item, this was it.

A tall gruff man asked, “Sir, do you have any prohibited items in your bag?”

Now clearly, they know the answer to this question before they ask it. On a prior trip, I had left a small pocket knife in my bag. They asked the same thing, and I had completely forgot it was in my bag.

My answer then was, “I don’t’ think so?”

Fortunately, they allowed me to mail my pocket knife home and the delay was minimal.

Clearly today it was not going to be as easy.

“I have a medical device called an electro-ejaculator in my bag”, I tried to explain.

One of the TSA workers removed the device. Clearly red flags were raised, and rightly so. Here is an electronic device with a push button, a red light and metal tongs protruding from the probe.

The gruff man demanded, “What is this and why do you have it?”

“It is used to collect semen from animals,” I explained, “you insert this end in the rectum and push this button. It then applies current over the prostate, and ejaculation occurs.”

The gruff man’s face went from viable anger to disgust in less than two seconds.

“What? Ewwwww!!! Are you serious?”, he continued, “Why would you ever do that to an animal?”

“I am a veterinarian”, I explained, “And my expertise is in animal reproduction.”

“Wow kid, I thought my job was tough,” he replied, laughing this time.

Fortunately for me, the device was labeled as such and my story was collaborated. I was allowed to pass.

En route to Manila, we stopped in Narita, Japan. Even though it was just a connecting flight, I had to pass through a security line once again before continuing on to the Philippines. Once again, a huge mess unfolded as I tried to explain in English why I would have such a dangerous looking device in my bag.

There are a couple dozen airport security officers around the world who now know, albeit unwillingly, what an electro-ejaculator is and how it is used.

After an eventful and productive stay in the Philippines, I entered the airport in Manilla, excited to be going home. As I stepped up to the counter, the ticket agent asked, “Sir, do you have any bags you would like to check?”

“Yes, I sure do”, I quickly replied.

I made my way to the gate and sat down to await my flight. I was relieved that I didn’t have to once again explain what was in my luggage. It appeared my trip home would be uneventful.

All of the sudden, over the loud speaker I hear the following announcement, “Passenger Nathan Isaac Bott, please report to the security desk immediately!”…………

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: Don’t worry Doc, She’s a tame cow

“Is the cow where you can catch her?,” was my first question.

Preston was a longtime client and on this particular day he had a cow that was having difficulty calving.

Responses to this question can vary. On this particular occasion the gentleman stated, “Don’t worry Doc, she is a tame cow. I raised her on a bucket.” He then gave a caveat, “Besides, she is too sick to run.”

“I really do not like trying to pull a calf without restraining the cow. I don’t want to get hurt,” I replied.

“We could even tie her up to one of the pillars in the barn,” he continued.

Now clearly, this should have raised a red flag. A 1800 pound snorting bovine is not to be taken lightly. The thought of working on her without a squeeze chute was ludicrous. Just think of the danger I would be subjecting myself to. A well placed kick could easily end my career.

“Can you please help me out, Doc?”, he begged.

Veterinarians all have a soft spot. We like to help people, and often we do so placing our own health and wellbeing on the back burner.

“I guess I could stop by,” I replied, “But please be sure to have a good rope handy.”

“You got it Doc!,” He promised.

When I arrived, Preston had the cow tied up to the center pillar of the barn. The massive beam was actually an old telephone pole.

The cow stood, chewing her cud as if nothing was amiss. A foot was clearly sticking out from the back end of the cow. From the appearance and position of the foot, I could immediately tell it was a back leg.

Delivering a breached calf is no easy feat. The size of the calf would make it impossible to turn around, and the best option was to attempt to pull the calf as it presented. The test for delivery of a calf in the backwards presentation but normal position and posture differ because the fetus should be first rotated 45-90 degrees by crossing the legs before attempting delivery to take advantage of the widest diameter of the cow’s pelvis.

Most experts say you should not apply more force than that of two strong men pulling by hand. But, if you’re alone in assisting a difficult birth, a calf jack can help generate the necessary force. Luckily I had my calf jack with me.

A calf jack is a long pole with a adapter that sits against the backside of the cow, just below the birth canal. There is a handle and jack that move along the entire length of the pole. OB chains are attached to the calve’s legs and then are attached to the jack. Extreme care must be taken to not apply too much pressure while using a calf jack. The health of the calf and mother could easily be compromised if the instrument is used improperly.

I attached the chains to the jack and gently began to tighten the slack. As I applied traction, the cow went crazy! She began to jump and kick and swing her head. I jumped back as fast as I could. She bellowed and began kicking her back legs in the air as if she were a rodeo bull.

The calf jack was firmly attached and stuck out straight nearly 6 feet from her rear end. This device became a formidable weapon and this cow knew exactly what to do. She was able swing it with extreme accuracy.

And boy did she ever swing it!

My OB bag was the first victim. It went flying through the air spreading instruments all over the barn. My water bucket next was launched vertically, covering all of us with fetal fluid and blood tinged warm water.

In a swift motion, the cow pivoted on her front feet, swinging her back end in an abrupt 180 turn. My back was turned to her when this happened and it caught me completely off guard. The calf jack, still sticking straight out from her backside, struck me about 2” below the back of my knees. This caused me to do a partial backflip. I landed on the soft bed of straw head-first.

“Preston!,” I shouted, “I thought you said she was tame!”

“Well, Doc, I ain’t never hooked one of those on her before!” he replied, with a look of bewilderment in his eyes.

Together we grabbed a large panel and placed it along side the raging bovine. She immediately calmed down and I returned to my job.

The calf was born alive! It was a precocious solid black bull calf with a stripe of white extending down his forehead. It weighed nearly 120 pounds!

“Good job Doc!” Preston exclaimed, “I was a little worried there for a minute!”

“So was I,” I replied, “So was I.”

The pain in my calves finally set in as I walked back to my truck. I had a battle wound that took weeks to heal – a linear bruise left by the unforgiving calf jack stuck to the backside of a most formidable and sinister cow.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Universal Human Animal Bond

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to spend several weeks in Mexico working as a veterinary ambassador. It was an incredible experience.

The first week, we traveled to the outskirts of a city called Queretaro. We sat up a set of tents and hosted an animal wellness clinic. We spent an entire day vaccinating dogs and cats.

The next two days were spent in Guadalajara. Here we also set up vaccine clinics. Over the three day period we vaccinated the pets of over 1,800 families. We spent time with each individual and answered questions about the pets they had and educated them on preventive care and how to assure a long and happy life for their 4 legged family members. These are among the longest days I have had as a veterinarian. It was exhausting to speak to so many people. However, the exhaustion was insignificant compared to the happiness I experienced by helping in these activities.

When we look at veterinary medicine on a global basis, people everywhere are attached to their pets and want their pets to be healthy. In the villages where we held our clinics, people couldn’t imagine putting their dogs on a leash; they would consider that cruel. If they want their dogs to walk somewhere, they pick up the dog’s front legs and walk them on their hind legs. The dogs are amazingly patient with this practice.

Lines each day extended around the block. Hundreds of people stood in line for hours under the hot sun to receive the services we were providing. Dozens of children brought their beloved pets, often in a grocery bag or carried safely in their arms, to be vaccinated and dewormed. They showed the same love towards their pets as anyone I have ever seen back home. The Human-Animal Bond is the same across borders – it is the same in the hearts of people everywhere. The happiness I experienced while performing these vaccine clinics was inexplicable.

It is commensurate with service to experience reciprocity. What effort we exert is returned many fold. I find the satisfaction of such service to be rewarding beyond comparison.

Veterinary medicine is a unique profession. What motivates us is the important services that we provide. There has to be a love of service and of reaching the hearts of the people who own the pets. I concur with what Dr Seuss conveyed through the character the Lorax, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

At Mountain West Animal Hospital, we care. We value life. We are advocates for those who have no voice. We believe that all animals have the right to a life free of pain and suffering. Everything we do is centered around this principle. We strive to provide the care that pets need and deserve.

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

My Take Tuesday: The Tale of the Tail

While growing up on a small farm in Castle Dale, my usual day began at 5:00 AM. My family owned 2 Guernsey milk cows. Their names were Mahana and Mokey. Dairy cows are milked either two or three times a day on most dairy farms. We elected the twice daily milkings which we spaced out evenly in a 24 hour time frame. My older brother and I would take turns milking each of them. I would milk Mahana in the morning and Mokey in the evening.

Although born as twins, each cow had distinct capricious personalities. Dealing with Mokey was a roll of the dice. She was unpredictable and instantly agitated. She was able to place a forward kick from her rear right leg precisely in the milk bucket or the center of my shin as she desired. Her eyes bulged out the side of her head, she always had a wild look and seemed to be able to track every move I made before it happened.

Mahana was docile and aware of her surrounding at all times, she could transition from tranquility to rage in a split second. She seemed to be swooshing her tail constantly. Her tail would connect against the side of my face. Although frequent bombardment from flies would initiate this torture, she quickly learned that her tail was a weapon capable of inflicting pain and discomfort. She would constantly whip my face with the coarse hairs at the end of her tail, which was analogous to a lashing from a bullwhip. Accumulations of feces and mud made on the distal end of her normally soft tail hair would transform her tail into a rigid and most dangerous weapon. After enduring this month after month, I decided that it was time to do something about it. The tail needed to be controlled and contained… But how?

Tail docking was out of the question, although an inconvenience for me, her tail was important for her, particularly during the warm months of summer when flies and other biting insects abound.

My first idea was to shave the dangerous hair off the end of the tail. This would clearly remove the most painful part of the ordeal. I used an old pair of electric clippers and shaved the tail.

That afternoon, I sat down on the milking stool and began the normal routine, assuming my intervention would be successful. Almost immediately, her tail came flying towards me. Unable to duck out of the way I just leaned into it. The shaved tail landed across my cheek and left a large welt. It felt like I had been slapped with a stiff garden hose. The pain was considerably greater than that caused by the tail hair. I realized that I had unknowingly created an even more formidable weapon.

My second idea was to develop an anchor to which I would tie the tail. This would prohibit the tail from reaching my face. I searched for an object to which I could anchor her tail to. I found a cinderblock that seemed to fit the part.

Having been a boy scout for years, I knew how to tie a good knot. I used orange bailing twine to tie the secure knots connecting the tail to the cinderblock anchor. There was no way the knot was going to come undone.

Many may wonder just how strong a cow’s tail really is. How much weight can it lift? Well, that day I learned a painful lesson, and I can attest that a cow’s tail can indeed easily lift and swing a cinderblock.

The solution to the problem was simply anchoring the tail to the back leg of the cow. Ironically, it took a cinder block to lead my simple mind to the even simpler solution.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Courage to Change Course

In late September of 2011, a major typhoon hit the Philippines. Torrential rainfall flooded the streets and sustained winds exceeding 120 mph decimated everything in the path of the storm. Typhoon Pedring taught me an important lesson regarding the perils that Mother Nature can present.

I sat watching the sheets of rain falling down from the window of a small laboratory. I had spent the morning freezing water buffalo semen, an extensive process that takes several hours to complete. I made the decision to hurry and finish the job before heading back to the hotel. The storm was set to hit just about 4:00, just about the time the project would be complete. I thought it was worth the risk to just hurry and get things finished up. Little did I know that the massive storm was fast approaching and already bearing down on the small village.

As I peered out into the pouring rain, water quickly began to run down the streets. It was clear that the storm had arrived and that I had better get back to the hotel as soon as possible. I worried that perhaps I had made a foolish choice by remaining at the lab.
I flagged down a motorcycle taxi and gave him the address of the hotel. These taxis are popular in the Philippines. This unique form of transportation has a motorcycle in the front and two wheels in the back with a compartment containing a small seat that will hold two average sized Filipinos. My 6’2″ frame does not fit well in these taxis. I have to crouch down and lift my knees up to just fit in the seat. The ground clearance of the cab portion is only around 10 inches. The ride proved to be most uncomfortable.

As we headed down the street, the water continued to rise. The engine began to squeal as the driver desperately tried to maneuver through the fast-moving water. The water poured through the open door and across the floor of the compartment I was riding in. There was no way I could readjust my position, as my knees were nearly touching my chest. All of the sudden, the raging water picked up the motorcycle taxi and carried it swiftly down the street. The driver began to panic, the tires were no longer touching the ground and we were floating in the wrong direction and had absolutely no control of our direction of travel. I was stuck and was absolutely helpless.

The taxi slammed against a cement railing along the side of a very large bridge. We were just a few feet away from plunging over the edge to certain death. Thankfully, the driver was able to get traction and maneuver the taxi out of the precarious situation and we safely continued on to the hotel. I arrived, soaking wet, in shock and very much grateful to be alive. The rain continued to pour down for the remainder of the day. Over 24 inches fell within a 24-hour period.

As soon as the storm passed, I boarded a flight from Manila en route to Utah via Nagoya, Japan. As we cruised at 30,000 feet just north of the Philippine Islands, severe turbulence began to toss our plane around. An unassuming passenger that was unbuckled was thrust so hard from his seat that his head hit the baggage compartment. It was clear that something was not right.

In the chaos, the pilot announced the following, “We are approaching Typhoon Pedring and if we continue on this course, this storm will rip this plane apart.” People could be heard screaming following this announcement. I couldn’t believe that the pilot would even suggest that the plane was in danger of coming apart. Just when things couldn’t possibly get worst, a lightning strike hit the plane. The damage was minimal, thankfully, and the pilot was able to change course and get us safely to Nagoya and then on to the USA.

Looking back now, I am grateful that the experienced pilot had the wisdom to know his own limitations along with the capacity of the airplane. His judgement undoubtedly saved the lives of all on board.

In today’s society, there seems to be a misconception that quitting is failing.

We grow up categorizing each situation we encounter as being either a success or a failure.

Believe me, I’ve spent years of my life unwilling to quit things. Those who are stubborn will often go far — too far — to ensure it’s not a failure. But that is not always a smart choice. I submit that truly successful professionals often find that there is a time to reassess readjust, and if needed correct the course they are on.

Truly incredible individuals can vouch for this with stories of perseverance, resilience and success. I have also found that if you believe failure is the easy way out, quitting can often be far more difficult than continuing.

I recently read a book titled No Shortcuts to the Top. The book was written by Ed Viesturs. Ed has climbed Mount Everest six times and is the only American to have climbed all 14 of the world’s highest mountain peaks. Each of these mountains tower at least 26,000 feet above sea level.

On one climb Ed actually had to climb one mountain twice. The first time, he was forced to turn back just 300 feet from the top as he did not feel that he could honestly claim the summit. In the pages of his book, he vividly describes fatal errors in judgment made by his fellow climbers as well as a few of his own close calls and gallant rescues.

Nothing in life comes easily. Success requires hard work. This path to success if filled with difficult choices, triumphs and even devastating failure. However, these failures are opportunistic pathways that, if they are navigated carefully, will lead to future success.

As Hesiod, the Greek poet so eloquently put, ‘Badness you can get easily, in quantity: the road is smooth, and it lies close by. But in front of excellence the immortal gods have put sweat, and long and steep is the way to it, and rough at first. But when you come to the top, then it is easy, even though it is hard.”

I learned a lesson the hard way on a rainy day in the Philippines. Since then, if my instincts are telling me something, I know it is best to trust them and listen.

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

Pictured is a view of a street during the severe flooding during Typhoon Pedring in the Philippines

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