My Take Tuesday: The Making Of A Legend

Dr Charles Leathers is the smartest person I have ever met. I had the privilege of meeting him during my first year of veterinary school. He taught the “Introduction to Pathology” class during my first spring semester.

In early December of 2015, I traveled back to my alma matter as a guest lecturer. As always, I spent some time visiting with many of the professors that acted as mentors during my years as a veterinary student. I stopped in to speak with Dr Leathers on my last day at the school. He welcomed me in and spoke briefly with me. He was preparing for retirement after more than 30 years of teaching.

I cannot imagine my veterinary school experience without Dr Leathers. His class stands out for all of the veterinarians who were fortunate enough to have learned from him. He had a unique style of teaching. I still remember exam questions from his class 10 years ago. His lectures were legendary. He used an overhead projector like a boss. His style was one of a kind. His teaching inspired us. His assignments challenged us.

An example of this was shared by my entire veterinary school class. Dr Leathers spoke clearly and concisely. He desired all of his students to share in this quality. Nearly all of us use what are called fillers in our conversations. Filler can consist of words, such as “like,” or “you know,” frequently combined in the phrase “like, you know . . .” In these instances, the words are essentially meaningless except as conversation cues. A related phenomenon is speech disfluency, when one pauses in mid-sentence to try to recall the rest of the thought. Most of us are unaware of the extent we use fillers. The best way to become self-aware is to record a conversation or speech. This was Dr Leather’s way of teaching us to be better.

The task seemed simple. Prepare a 1 minute speech. Only 1 minute. It could be on anything you wanted to talk about. This 60 seconds of material needed to be memorized and presented to the 100+ member class. Each student’s speech was to be recorded.

Our assignment was to then take the tape home and play it back. We were required to write down exactly what was said (including the ums, sighs, coughs, grunts, ands, and other filler words we inadvertently use while speaking). This task is not a pleasant one. For most of us, these sounds are probably more common than the words between them. Following this, we were to correct the transcription and submit a final document stating what we should have said in the absence of filler words.

This exercise proved to be a learning experience. I became much more aware of my speech. I focused specifically on avoiding filler words. It changed the way I interacted with those around me. It helped me professionally.

Dr Leather’s has taught and influenced thousands of veterinary students over the years. His legacy is unparalleled at Washington State University. I count myself privileged to have been taught by one of the best.

My final question for this revered professor was simple. I asked,  “You have had a remarkable career. What advice would you give to young veterinarians just beginning this journey?”

His response is one that I will forever remember.

“Just focus on your sphere of influence. Just do the best that you can and expect that others are doing the same.”

I think it would be wise for all to follow this cogent and concise advice from Dr. Charles Leathers.

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Growing Up

I had the privilege of being raised on a small farm in Castle Dale, Utah. Living in a small town had its perks for sure, for one, I rarely had to tell my parents when I got in trouble at school; as fast as word spreads in a small town, someone had almost always beaten me to it and mom and dad knew before I could get even get home.

I loved growing up in a small town. I treasure the many wonderful people who helped shape my education and point me on the path I am on today.

My parents would set aside a few days each year where we could get away from the daily farm chores and spend time together as a family. I always looked forward to the time when we were able to leave Emery County and travel to the big city.

Vacations while growing up were typically short, lasting only a couple of days. I have many fond memories of visits to all of the national parks in the state and overnight trips to Salt Lake City. The overnight trips to Salt Lake were often planned around business meetings for my dad. We would typically come up early Friday morning and return home late Saturday.

We would usually stay at the Red Lion hotel in downtown Salt Lake. This hotel is still there, but it is now a Hilton hotel. I still remember the hotel layout. The swimming pool was located on the second floor. We must have stayed there a dozen times growing up.

Breakfast was always west of the temple at a Denny’s restaurant. It was a short 5 block walk from the hotel. I remember enjoying these meals immensely, despite the food being typical greasy breakfast items.

Following breakfast on Saturday morning, we would make a trip to the zoo. As children, we loved visiting the Hogle Zoo. I particularly looked forward to the Mold-A-Rama machines. These peculiar machines would make wax animal figurines on demand. For a five year old kid, they were magic. These figurines were of many different animals and colors. I remember getting a gorilla, a giraffe, a lion, and many others. I still remember the smell of the freshly molded wax. The animals were quite hot when the came out of the machine, necessitating a fair amount of cooling of by rapidly blowing on them from all sides. These were treasures to us. They would eventually crumble and fall apart, but they were placed on shelves in our rooms until that happened.

Much of my love for animals was sparked by these trips to the zoo. In particular it instigated the comparative curiosity that has made my career so unique. I remember comparing different breeds of monkeys and apes, using the appearance of their hands, in particular their thumbs. I also wondered what was inside the camel’s humps, a question that took over 20 years to find the true answer, which came firsthand from the world’s foremost expert in this species. These trips led to my collecting zoo animal cards and reading about animal facts as a hobby.

It is interesting, looking back now, how these experiences all pointed to what I now do as a profession. I am glad I had the opportunity to go on these annual trips and for the wonderful memories that still remain.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Capricious Caprine

We are all familiar with the classic Norwegian folk tale of the “Three Billy Goats Gruff.” The captivating children’s story follows an “eat me when I am fatter” plot. The intelligent goats cleverly deceive the hungry troll to access the greener pastures on the other side of the bridge. This species is often overlooked, but its importance on world agriculture is tremendous.

Goats are one of the oldest domesticated species, and have been used for their milk, meat, hair, and skins over much of the world. Goats have an intensely inquisitive and intelligent nature; they will explore anything new or unfamiliar in their surroundings. They do so primarily with their prehensile upper lip and tongue. This is why they investigate items such as buttons, rope, or clothing (and nearly anything else!) by nibbling at them, occasionally even eating them.

Goats will test fences, either intentionally or simply because they are handy to climb. If any of the fencing can be spread, pushed over or down, or otherwise be overcome, the goats will escape. Due to their high intelligence, once they have discovered a weakness in the fence, they will exploit it repeatedly.

To help illustrate my point, I will share with you a lesson I learned as a teenager growing up in a small town called Castle Dale, Utah.

One summer I was entrusted with the care of a small herd of goats belonging to a disabled veteran. Each morning and afternoon, I would travel down Main Street to the small white house on the corner near the hardware store. The most vocal and dominant goat in the group I affectionately called “General Custer” because of a small unusual patch of hair extending forward from his beard.

General Custer could escape his pen without leaving any evidence as to where the weak spot in the fence was located. Several times a week I would find the devious billy goat in the yard of the house nibbling on the freshly bloomed flowers. Each time this event occurred, I would take him back to his pen, where he would remain, albeit temporarily, satisfied.

One morning I got in my car, a 1979 white Buick LeSabre, and started the one mile drive down Main Street. As I proceeded, I noticed a large group of people gathered outside the only tavern in the small town of 1,500 residents. I noticed several men laughing and looking down the sidewalk. As I approached, I noticed a goat standing next to the front door. The goat had a rope halter on and was tied to a power pole on the sidewalk in front of the building. I continued driving, not giving a second thought to what I had just witnessed; after all, I had seen similar things growing up in a small town.

As I arrived at the small house to feed the goats, I immediately noticed that the General was not in the pen. I began looking around the yard for the wayward caprine. He was nowhere to be found.

As I frantically began running through the possibilities in my mind, I remembered the goat that was tied up at the bar. I jumped back in the car and drove as quickly as possible back to where the goat was tied up previously. The crowd had entered the bar and General Custer stood calmly tethered to the pole, chewing his cud and very much unaware of his situation. I jumped out of the car and quickly untied the escapee. I did not have any way to haul General Custer and the 1/2 mile walk back to the house would be awful leading a goat. The large back seat of the Buick would have to do. I placed the general inside the car and headed back down Main Street with the billy goat bleating at every car and pedestrian we passed.

Naturally, the stench in the days following the incident with General Custer was such that the windows needed to remain down while traveling. It took months to rid the car of the goat eau de toilette that so effectively had permeated the back seat.

I was proud of myself. The General had escaped and wandered several blocks down a busy road and still came away unscathed. I had no concern for the inebriated witnesses at the bar; after all, it would be a hard to believe the story in the best of circumstances.

The following week when I received the weekly local newspaper in the mail, I was astounded to read the headline on the front page of the Emery Country Progress. A picture of the tied up General was under the headline, “Goat on the Loose”. It seemed that a goat was found wandering the streets of town and that a group of concerned citizens had caught and tied up the animal. The article explained that the male goat had mysteriously disappeared before local animal control authorities had arrived. Fortunately, someone had taken a picture to corroborate the unlikely story…

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Belligerent Bovine

January in Utah is a beautiful time of the year. The land is white. The peaks are white. The roof tops of the houses and barns are blanketed in white. All is lost in the colorless landscape in which a sense of peace takes over, the long nights settle in, the land is in a slumber and the world is put down to rest. Then suddenly, without just cause, comes a blast of bitter blizzards, and winter deepens her grip.

This particular morning was bitter cold. The air burned my face as I stepped out my front door. When temperatures reach twenty below zero, your nostrils sting and burn with each breath. Still, despite the extreme cold, there is a stillness and quiet peace that overwhelms you during the Utah January nights. These quiet midnight journeys to respond to emergency calls provide a time for me to reflect and think. In my busy life, I often have little time alone and I cherish those infrequent moments.

The call on this particular night was a cow with a laceration. Somehow this massive Hereford had tangled herself up in a barb wire fence. As I arrived, the gaping wound was dripping with fresh red blood. Steam would rise from the scarlet stained snow beneath as the blood trickled down and alongside the squeeze chute.

It was obvious that sutures would need to be placed.

A test of a veterinarian’s ability could be most easily assessed by watching him or her suture a laceration in -20 temperatures. It is indeed one of the most arduous of tasks.

As I pulled out my box of supplies, I noticed that a majority of drugs within my medical box were completely frozen. Fortunately, the lidocaine remained aqueous. I pulled out a large syringe and began injecting the local anesthetic along the periphery of the lesion. The old cow bellowed as I injected the Lidocaine. It was clear that she was very unhappy with her predicament.

I began to place the sutures in a simple interrupted pattern. A break was necessary between each suture placement as the stinging cold weather rendered my fingers numb and stiff. In a futile attempt, I tried exhaling on my frozen fingers hoping that they regain some function. This only made the numbness much worse.

As I placed the last onerous suture, the cow lunged forward in the squeeze chute. Her massive belly pinned my fingers against the side of the squeeze chute. A sharp pain shot up my arm as I jumped and pulled my hand back. Nervous to check to see what damage was caused to my numb smashed fingers, I exclaimed, “Alright, turn her lose. We are done.”

As soon as the head gate opened, this massive Hereford jumped forward and exited the chute bellowing and swinging her head. She ran straight ahead for about 20 yards at which time she paused. She then turned around and set her focus on me.

I immediately knew I was in trouble. I quickly grabbed my tools and began running for the fence; 1800 pounds of solid bovine came thundering toward me making me forget about anything except for escaping her wrath.

After a short run, with the bellowing cow in close pursuit, I reached the lodge pole pine fence that surrounded the corral. I dared not look back as I scampered over the fence. I could hear the angry cow snarling and could feel the sound of each hoof pounding the ground as she bounded towards me.

I made it across the fence safely. Upon reaching the other side I peered back at the massive cow. She stood facing the fence, head down, with a most bewildered look in her eyes. My heart pounded uncontrollably and I began to shake. This was one angry cow!

Immediately, my squished hand began to throb. The feeling in my fingers returned and I walked back to my truck.

As I drove away, I was very much relived to be leaving the belligerent bovine far behind. This was a close call and I was very fortunate to have made it out of the pen without any serious harm.

As I headed down the cold frozen highway, my mind returned to my time as a student in veterinary school. In the large animal section of the Veterinary Teaching Hospital at Washington State University there was a magnetic sign that could be placed on the pen of a fractious animal. The sign read, “Fractious cow can make it to gate in 2.5 seconds. Can you?”

It would be fitting to have such a sign to hang near the squeeze chute on this particular Utah County farm.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Society for Theriogenology  

Greeting from 30,000 feet! This week I am writing from the air. As I peer out the plane window, I see a limitless sky. I love flying! I am en route to Milwaukee, Wisconsin to attend the annual conference of the Society for Theriogenology. 

This is an annal event that I have attended since 2007. Each year the meeting is held in a different city around the country. I eagerly await this conference each August.

What is Theriogenology? Theriogenology is the branch of veterinary medicine concerned with reproduction, including the physiology and pathology of male and female reproductive systems of animals and the clinical practice of veterinary obstetrics, gynecology, and andrology. It is analogous to the OBGYN, Neonatologist and Andrologist of human medicine – all combined in a single broad specialization. From antelope to zebras, Theriogenologists work on all species of animals. It is a challenging, unique and rewarding discipline.

I became interested in theriogenology as an undergraduate at Southern Utah University. A professor and mentor named Dan Dail introduced me to this most unique area of veterinary medicine. I learned a lot from him. He entrusted me with a research project looking at the correlation of body condition scores and first service conception rates in heat synchronized beef cattle. His mentorship, along with this research contributed to my acceptance into veterinary school. Dan Dail passed away a few years ago. 

At Washington State University, I had the privilege of working extensively with Ahmed Tibary, a world renowned theriogenologist.  He has made endless contributions in teaching, published books, chapters and scientific articles. His comparative approach taught me how to think and reason through difficult cases. He also entrusted me with the animals under his care. We published a significant amount of information on reproduction in alpacas. I remember with fondness my time working with him.

My theriogenology work has made me a better veterinarian. My clinical approach has been shaped and molded by the examples of so many mentors and teachers. What drives me is the comparative medicine; that’s what makes my brain move. Whether I am in the clinic working on dogs or cats, or out working with bighorn sheep, elk, alpacas or water buffalo, I am doing what I love.

It is my privilege to serve as the current president of this organization. Throughout the past year, a large statue has been on display on top of the glass case in the lobby of Mountain West Animal Hospital. The statue depicts a bull named Nandi, the Hindu god of fertility. This statue resides with the current president of the Society for Theriogenology during their tenure. The wooden base has the names of each president since the founding of the organization many years ago. These names represent some of the best of the best and each has left a unique mark in the world of animal reproduction. I am humbled to see my name on this plaque. 

Kindness is a commonality among veterinarians who are reproductive specialists. They are approachable and humble. In a profession where arrogance often is the norm, they are a refreshing example of the best of the best. They are among the leadership at nearly every veterinary school in North America. They are leaving a lasting impression on the profession. 

I am so proud to be a member of this group. 

It has been a tremendous honor for me to serve as president of this organization this past year. 

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Don’t worry Doc, he won’t bite

“Don’t worry Doc, he won’t bite.” 

If ever a red flag was raised, these simple words would surely do it. I worry every time I hear the phrase. It reminds me of the required vet school class that covered the autonomic nervous system. The fight or flight impulse is part of that system. And in most cases, the fight response prevails. Invariably, when someone says this, I am going to be bitten.

It was a routine appointment, simple annual vaccinations. It should have gone smoothly.

As I administered the last vaccination, all seemed to be going smoothly. When all of the sudden, this unseeingly sweet little dog became, without warning, a biting, raging canine tornado.

This form of aggression can be defined by the word “IATROGENIC”. The definition of this fancy word is simple, it was caused by ME. This little guy was furious, and come hell or high water, he was going to let me have it.

His attack was swift. He had sunk his teeth deep into my left hand. I instinctively pulled back as he loosened his grip. I thought for a brief moment that it was over, but before I could remove my hand, he chomped down a second time.

Blood poured from my lacerated fingers.

The owner looked up, shook her head, and said, “Come to think of it, he did that to the last vet also.”

“Gee thanks,” I muttered.

If anyone ever tells you, “Don’t worry, he won’t bite.”

Take it from me – BEWARE!

You are about to be bitten!

And That is My Take

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

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