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: 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

My Take Tuesday: Frank The Turtle

Third grade seemed to be a particularly creative time during my childhood. I remember sitting quietly in Mrs. Wikersham’s class at Castle Dale Elementary. As part of our routine, we would recite a poem each day. Most of the poems were short and simple and easy to remember. I still remember most of them verbatim. One of my favorites was about a little turtle, and it went like this:

“There was a little turtle. 

He lived in a box. 

He swam in a puddle.

He climbed on the rocks. 

He snapped at a mosquito. 

He snapped at a flea. 

He snapped at a minnow. 

And he snapped at me. 

He caught the mosquito. 

He caught the flea. 

He caught the minnow. 

But he didn’t catch me!”

I remember Mrs. Wikersham’s facial expressions vividly as she would teach us hand actions that went along with this poem.

A snapping turtle? It was something I could only dream about as a sheltered kid in a small town.

I recently thought about Mrs. Wikersham’s class after receiving an unusual call.

Frank the turtle needed an examination and a health certificate before flying to a warmer state. His owner called and explained that she could not find a veterinarian that would look at her turtle before her afternoon flight.

I really don’t know much about exotic pets, I somewhat reluctantly agreed to see her and provide the needed travel paperwork.

I entered the exam room to see the cutest little turtle imaginable. His innocent eyes peered up at me as I held him in my hands. I quickly looked him over and filled out the needed paperwork.

I handed the paperwork to the client and wished her safe travels. I then reached down to pat Frank on the top of his shell. Without warning, Frank snapped the tip of my right pointer finger.

Immediately, pain shot up my hand and continued all the way up my arm.

“Ouch!!!” I exclaimed, “That really hurts!”

Bewilderment filled my eyes. I didn’t see this coming. Frank, it turns out isn’t quite as sweet as he appears.

He might have snapped at that mosquito and caught that flea,

But in the end, Frank the turtle also caught me!

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Dinner Guest

“Hey Doc, we would love to have you over for dinner on Sunday. We will be having some ribeye steaks and banana cream pie.”

Hearing two of my favorite foods in the same sentence excites me. Who could turn down such an invitation? John and Laura were very loyal clients and were a pleasure to be around.

“I would love to!”, I excitedly responded.

“Great! We will eat at 7”, John instructed, “you can come a little early and have some root beer and see that new shed I am building.”

“I’ll be there”, I promised.

On Sunday evening I pulled into the driveway at exactly 6:45. John was waiting for me at the gate. He held a large frosted mug of root beer in his hand.

“Here it is Doc, fresh made.”

I grabbed the mug and took a sip. The sweet vanilla taste satiated my senses.

“Now, that is good!”, I exclaimed.

John then proceeded to show me around the yard. Most of my time with John and Laura was spent on the ranch. It was a nice break to be able to see their home. The yard was perfectly manicured, as is expected from a master farmer and crop producer. The smell of the blooming purple lilacs reminded me just how beautiful this time of year is.

“Come on in Doc,” Laura continued, “dinner is on the table.”

As I entered the kitchen, the table was covered in a smorgasbord of deliciousness. Fresh potatoes, olives, bread, ribeye steak and banana cream pie awaited.

We sat down and began to eat. We laughed and joked as we finished the delicious meal.

“Hey Doc, there is another piece of steak here, would you like some more?”, John asked.

“I sure would,” I replied as I began cutting the fresh ribeye.

“Do you like it Doc?”, John inquisitively asked.

“Yes sir!” I replied

“Good. You remember that old cow that had mastitis and was prolapsed? You said we couldn’t sell her so we butchered her instead.”

News like this is never good to receive between bites.

Instantly, my voracious appetite disappeared.

All I could think in about was that nasty prolapsed cow. That cow that was now in my stomach.

“Can I have another glass of root beer?”, I politely asked, as I finished the steak.

After all, John and Laura are salt of the earth people.

However, this is the only time I will ever eat steak at their house.

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 smell of the first fire in a wood burning stove, and the taste of hot apple cider. It takes 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 with no parental supervision,” 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, Candy Corn and Reese’s 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 followed the same route, but somehow ended up with ten-fold the amount of candy. 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 chocolate or 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