My Take Tuesday: A Scar

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: Veterinary Technician Appreciation Week

Being in the veterinary industry is hard work. Every day in filled with ups and down, happiness and sadness, and life and death situations. We end each workday exhausted and worn out emotionally.

Since our patients cannot speak for themselves, we spend a great deal of time communicating with their human owners. To an extent we’re treating owners as much as patients. This requires a level of genuine empathy and professionalism that few people possess.

Behind every good vet is a team of hard-working, caring individuals invested in the task of helping people help their pets. I am fortunate to be surrounded by a wonderful team of veterinary technicians at Mountain West Animal Hospital.

If you’ve ever experienced an emergency with your pets’ health or safety, you know how meaningful it is to have a knowledgeable and compassionate technician to care for them!

Veterinary technicians are the unsung heroes of your pet’s veterinary care team. Without these devoted profesionals, my office would be a sea of chaos and confusion. These highly trained individuals do everything from greeting clients and answering phones to restraining pets, drawing blood, assisting with surgical procedures, and cleaning cages.

I simply cannot get through the day without my dedicated team at Mountain West Animal Hospital. They provide the individualized care and compassion that make my clinic so unique.

Most people do not realize the emotional toll this job can take. They don’t see us crying after we euthanize a patient we have treated for years. They don’t see the hard work that goes on behind the scenes. They don’t know what it’s like caring for a pet who is suffering near death and the triumph of pulling it back from that edge and going on to live several more years. They don’t see the abuse that walks in our doors either in the form of a mistreated or neglected pet.

They don’t know about the scars and scratches, bumps and bruise, sore muscles and back pain. They don’t know about the blood, diarrhea and vomit that they daily clean up.

There are many heroes that never stand in the spot light, never hear the roar of the crowd and never receive the recognition they deserve.

Pictured are three of my heroes. They are my right hand and my left. They work in a high-stress environment, putting in long hours, caring for ill and anxious pets, cleaning messes, and putting themselves at risk of physical harm. They do this because they care. They care about each of our clients and their four-legged family members.

This week is National Veterinary Technician Appreciation Week. Please join me in thanking these girls for the wonderful work they do at Mountain West Animal Hospital.

They are amazing!

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Up A Tree

In the early spring, when the ice and snow begin to disappear, most of the fields in Utah County are a muddy disgusting mess. A farmer would be wise to avoid calving their cattle during this time. A clean environment required for calving is impossible to find in a swampy, muddy field.

Dwane is not a typical farmer. To him, this is the perfect time of year for calving. His solution to the muddy disgusting mess in his pasture was simple: A four wheeler.

Each morning he would ride around the cow pasture to check on his pregnant stock. On this particular day, had spotted one cow calving and could see the infant’s nose and one foot exposed. Circumstances such as this require help from DocBott.

“Hey Doc, I need some help with one of my cows,” Dwane stated matter-of-factly, “She is kind of a wild one, so I don’t dare work on her by myself.”

I know better than to get myself into a situation like this. There is no way it can end well. Unfortunately, as it often goes, I gave in and headed towards Dwane’s place in Palmyra.

Dwane sat, on his Honda four wheeler at the gate. Every inch of the machine was covered in dark brown mud. As I looked into the field, I could see a few cows standing literally knee deep in mud.

“What a mess!”, I exclaimed, “Dwane, you really need to get a barn if you are going to calve out this time of year.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, “But you know how beef prices are this year.”

He did have a point, unpredictable and forceful influences that have negligible affect on most businesses, can dramatically alter the beef industry. From changing product demand, rising input costs and market fluctuations, to weather patterns and even consumer nutrition and lifestyle trends, farmers and ranchers must balance a long list of variables in order to be successful. The beef industry is not for the faint of heart.

“Where is she?,” I asked.

“Hop on, Doc, I will take you to her”

Out in the center of the field, along side a large cottonwood tree, the big Angus cow was comfortably sitting. As we approached her on the four wheeler, the wide eyed cow jumped up on her feet. Almost instantly, out popped the calf.

“Wow!” Dwane explained, that was easier than I thought it would be.

“It sure was,” I replied.

We should have just kept driving on the four wheeler at this point. The mother and newborn were both apparently healthy. There was no reason to stay, except that Dwane felt this was an opportune time to put a tag in the calf’s ear while we were near.

We dismounted and quietly approached the new born calf. Dwane reached down and quickly placed the tag in the left ear of the calf. The small calf let out a quiet but deliberate “moooooo”.

No sooner had the calf opened its mouth, the cow charged. She hit Dwane squarely in the chest. He immediately flew backwards towards the tree. He quickly jumped up and raced behind the tree, trying to use its massive trunk as a shield from the raging bovine.

I raced behind the tree as she bellowed and snorted. I looked at Dwane and he looked at me. We both knew there was only one way out – and that was up! We both climbed as fast as we could. Our mud covered rubber boots slid as we tried to climb the massive tree.

A large low hanging branch provided support as we held on and climbed on top of the life saving perch.

“Are you ok?” I asked

“Yeah,” Dwane replied between gasps, “I thought we were both dead!”

“Me too!” I agreed.

Fortunately, we have cell phones in today’s world, if not for that, Dwane and I would have had to stay in the tree for who knows how long.

“Just look for a four wheeler and a savage cow circling a tree,” I heard Dwane say as he grinned.

As we rode out of the pasture, he commented, “Hey Doc, I think I just might get that barn after all.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” I agreed, “I ain’t much of a tree climber!”

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. 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 at 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 pit bull or 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 a 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 auscult the heart and lungs, Chispa absolutely went ballistic. Within 5 seconds, she had peed and soiled all over the table top. 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 and, believe it or not, Fluffy.

And that is my take!

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. Rising testosterone levels in the male reindeer are responsible for the hardening and cleaning off of the antlers. This cleaning off of the velvet has an abrupt onset. Although fresh blood is noted on the antlers as the velvet comes off, the condition is NOT PAINFUL. There is no sensation in the antlers at this point.

Testosterone 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 has 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: Fleming’s Vest-Pocket Veterinary Adviser

The year was 1904. The town of Emery, Utah had a population of around 560 people, nearly double what it has today. Emery has always been an agricultural community. Ranching and farming are as much a part of its scenery as the towering cliffs that overlook the small town. Visitors are often taken aback by the beauty and expanse of this beautiful country on the edge of the San Rafael Swell.

Lewis W. Peterson made his living as a farmer. Life during this time could not have been easy. Lewis and his young wife experienced extreme heartbreak during their first few years together. Their only two children at the time would die from an influenza outbreak that indiscriminately killed so many in this small community in 1907.

The remote location of the town isolated it somewhat from other communities. The town had a fine yellow church house that had a large ballroom floor that served not only for Sunday worship services, but also for social gatherings. This building still stands in the center of town today.

Information came in the form of newspapers and books. Knowledge was a valuable asset that would set certain farmers apart. When information was available, these farmers were open to reading and learning. It was during this time that LW Peterson acquired a new book called, Fleming’s Vest-Pocket Veterinary Adviser.

This now 114 year old, pocket size handbook of veterinary information pertained to diseases of horses and cattle, and was designed to help farmers and stockman. It provided 192 pages of everything from birth to aging, to caring for illnesses, to poisonous weeds, maintenance, how to feed, and recipes for concoctions to treat a variety of ailments.

This book must have helped LW. He kept the book. He passed it down to his son, Kenneth Peterson, who passed it to his son Hugh Peterson.

My grandfather, Hugh Peterson, gave it to my mother, who gave it to me. This book is displayed prominently in the museum case in the reception area of Mountain West Animal Hospital.

The well worn pages of this book are fascinating to read through. Although veterinary science was in its infancy at this time, it is still interesting to read about treatments used. Without the luxuries of modern antibiotics, antiseptics, anesthetics and anti-inflammatories, these treatments were innovative for their time. The early 1900’s provided incredible advances in hygiene practices, preventive medicine concepts evolved, the first vaccines appeared, nutrition was studied and research was beginning to show which therapeutics actually worked, and why.

Perhaps some would consider this dated literature obsolete. Much of the information contained therein certainly would be considered so. I, however, consider it a treasure. I wonder if LW realized that, more than 60 years after his death, a veterinarian, carrying 1/16th of his DNA, would appreciate this book passed from generation to generation.

I will keep this book safe and pass it on to my children. Who knows, perhaps in another 100 years, it will still be seen as a valuable piece of family and veterinary history.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Chickens

If you attended elementary school with me, you will probably will remember my obsession with chickens. As a child, I would draw chickens when I was bored. Given the many drawing projects that elementary age children have, I drew hundreds of mediocre pictures of my pet chickens. Fortunately, my teachers were patient and supportive. Although my artistic abilities left much to be desired, I was free to draw to my hearts content.

We would receive an annual catalog from Murray McMurray Hatchery. This catalog would depict every conceivable breed of chicken and give a short description of the desirable traits each possessed: comb type, leg feathering, silky, frizzle, bantam, standard, etc. I would spend hours and hours looking through this catalog. Each year, I was allowed to choose a single baby chick of the breed of my choosing. I took this choice seriously.

There are a range of things that one needs to consider when deciding what breed of chicken to have. These include the climate in which you live, whether you are raising backyard chickens for eggs or meat production, their temperament, foraging capability, predator awareness, and broodiness. I meticulously studied each breed and made my selection each year.

Here in the United States, the postal system accepts boxes filled with day-old chicks and delivers them coast to coast with overnight delivery. The chicks travel by Priority Mail and often have no food or water in their cardboard carrier to sustain them. How can this happen? Just prior to hatching, a chick absorbs all the remaining nutrients from within its egg. With this nourishment, the chick can survive for up to three days without food or water. This makes it possible to ship them by mail. In the nest, this process allows the mother to wait out the hatching of other chicks in her clutch before tending to the early hatchers: If chicks required immediate attention, the mother would leave with those that hatched first and the unhatched chicks would perish. This is a fascinating adaptation!

To this day, chickens remain my favorite animals. I look back with fondness on the days spent coloring and drawing with crayons.

Memories are painted optimistically with passing years. I miss the worry-free days sitting at a desk in elementary school.

I will forever treasure these pictures and the pleasant memories associated with them.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Sheep and Stoicism

Sheep can be stubborn. I remember as a child trying to herd our small group of ewes to a nearby pasture. Although it was only about a hundred yards away, it didn’t go well. As I turned the sheep out, they all began running in every direction. There was pure chaos. I ended up covered in sheep snot, lying on my back looking up at the blue sky. The sheep were all over town. Not one of them ended up in the desired pasture.

Not long after this, my very wise great uncle, Boyd Bott, taught me an important lesson. The trick was simple: “You can’t herd sheep. You have to lead them.” It is a lesson I will never forget.

Taking a pail of grain and walking out in front of the sheep will yield an opposite response than that described above. The sheep will literally run after you and follow where ever you want them to go. Every time I had to move the sheep from this time forward, it was easy.

Sheep have a strong instinct to follow the sheep in front of them. When one sheep decides to go somewhere, the rest of the flock usually follows, even if it is not a good decision. Humans are the same way. In the bible, sheep are often compared to people. I find this comparison very accurate. We are stubborn. We resist when we are pushed. We follow when we are lead.

There is no better way to learn patience than having a small herd of sheep. They require much attention, protection and care.

Next time you find your patience running thin, think of exercising oversight instead of compulsion. It will most certainly yield a better result.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

This photo is of Dr. Bott holding a newborn lamb on his family farm in 1985.