Purebred dogs have long held an important place in both history and culture. For thousands of years, they have been bred for specific tasks, from herding livestock to guarding homes, and more recently, for assisting in scientific research. As a former wildlife biologist, I became interested in the potential use of scent detection dogs in environmental conservation and wildlife research. While diving into the background literature, I gained a deep appreciation for the abilities of beagles and German Shepards to detect certain types of cancer, and the astounding aptitude that Labrador retrievers and Belgian Malinois demonstrated for locating minuscule amounts of environmental contaminants. For my master's project, I specifically focused on the role of scent-detection dogs in locating wildlife. As a non-game research biologist, I was interested in developing alternative methods for locating non-cavernous bat winter habitat (hibernacula). In these these habitats, traditional methods such as visual surveys are ineffective, and radio telemetry studies are only marginally more feasible. That’s where Jack, the Australian Cattle Dog came in. Jack had been trained in scent detection and had successfully been trained to locate several wildlife species. However, for my project, I needed a dog that could not only locate an animal but, because bats are not typically present at hibernaucla when I was surveying, could also locate the residual odor left by bats visiting sites, an untested concept at the time. Australian Cattle Dogs are known for their intelligence, energy, and ability to focus on tasks for extended periods, which made Jack an ideal candidate for this project. His keen sense of smell enabled him to locate even the faintest traces of bat scent around rock crevices, helping me pinpoint locations that would otherwise have gone unnoticed. Working with Jack was a truly remarkable experience. We surveyed ridges where bats both had and had not previously been found to be overwintering. The handler and I would watch his body language, and when he found something, he would alert by sitting, tail wagging, eager to continue for a play reward. On more than one occasion, Jack alerted at a new area, and after marking the area and deploying a game camera, we would get footage of a bat landing on that exact site within a couple of nights. With Jack's help, we were able to locate several new hibernacula. My experience with Jack gave heightened my appreciation for the role of purebred dogs in history. Over time, specific breeds like the Australian Cattle Dog have been refined to perform particular tasks, contributing to both cultural practices and scientific advancements. The close working relationship between humans and dogs continues to evolve, with purebreds taking on new and vital roles in research, conservation, and beyond.

My mother, who raised me entirely by herself, suffers from untreated bipolar disorder. My childhood worldview was shaped by turmoil and disconnect and my keenest yearning in young adulthood was to form deep, meaningful connections with those around me and to be a source of stability and refuge for others who needed it. I followed this passion the vehemence and idealism of youth; at the age of 23, wound up acquiring guardianship for my two cousins-once-removed, ages seven and ten, while I was on academic exchange in the last year of my undergraduate studies. They were also raised by a mother who struggled with untreated mental illness, who was able to offer them even less consistent care than mine. In hindsight, the fact that I was their primary caregiver for nearly four years seems absurdly unrealistic, but if my childhood taught me anything, it was independence and resilience. All in all, we managed well, entirely due to the support and professional help that we were able to receive along the way. Each of us received years of individual and family therapy, and while the youngest has continued to struggle, the eldest and I, though we both followed non-traditional paths, found our way in the world. As I've aged, I've repeatedly run headfirst into the side effects brought on by my upbringing. The walls that fierce self-reliance builds, and the other negative aspects of cPTSD and adverse poly vagal attachment dynamics. The faded headlong passion of youth has instead necessitated the difficult, yet crucial, work of healing and self-care. It's been a long journey, but I'm glad to still be on it. I'm glad, too, that while my personal life has lead to a very non-traditional academic path, that the journey gave me a skillset and wealth of compassion that I never would have otherwise, and I'm now on a trajectory to obtain my doctor of veterinary medicine, a career that will honor all lessons I learned along the road. Veterinary medicine is a stressful career, and clinical veterinarians have an increased risk of suicide. The Not One More Vet organization was created to help address the mental health challenges that veterinarians face. As a veterinary student, I plan on volunteering with Not One More Vet in an administrative capacity, however, upon graduation, I plan on becoming both one of their outreach ambassadors as well as an active part of their Lifeboat peer-to-peer volunteers, offering empathy and support for members of the veterinary community who are facing work-related mental health issues.

My first pet was a mackerel tabby from the local cat colony by my neighborhood grocery store. To silence my endless cacophony of pleading, my mom stated, “If you can get it into the car, you can keep it.” Later, I learned that offer was not meant to be genuine, as she had little confidence in my ability to cajole a semi-feral cat into a Mazda Miata. To her credit, she held to her end of the bargain when my seven-year-old self tottered to the car with a meowing ball of fur that instantly became a surrogate sibling. Thirty years later, my absurd tendency to find stranded and injured animals with a frequency that seemingly defies reasonable assumptions of probability has become a hallmark of my life that leaves my friends bemused. Unsurprisingly, veterinary medicine was a clear calling from early on. However, I was an exceptionally tender-hearted youth, lacking any ability to remain clear headed in the face of suffering; had I pursued veterinary medicine in early adulthood, I would have rapidly burnt out. Fortunately, if we are lucky, life experience often gives us what we need. My academic path has followed a highly-braided course thus far, and that path has intersected with numerous transformative moments in my personal life. During undergrad, these moments included supporting my mother, providing end-of-life care for my grandmother, and assuming guardianship of my cousin’s children for four years. Graduate school didn’t come until later, when I was an established professional. The nonlinear nature of my journey granted me immense personal growth, a broad diversity of experiences, and a wealth of skills that I would not have otherwise acquired. Working as a veterinary technician, I saw how recently-minted DVMs, saddled with hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, struggled with juggling paying their loans without working themselves to the breaking point. I also saw how in small rural communities, veterinary hospitals must assume huge start-up operating costs by necessity, as no specialists exist in the area. In my town, the costs of obtaining and operating the state-of-the-art medical equipment needed in a vet hospital, combined with veterinarians burdened by massive amounts of student loan debt, has resulted in above-average high patient care costs in a region with an already elevated cost of living. The unfortunate indirect effect of these factors is that clinic owners, new associate veterinarians, and animal owners are often faced with difficult decisions that must balance both animal welfare and financial necessities, and the result is often heartrending to one or more of the parties involved. When I become a DVM, I hope to establish a small traveling practice that offers veterinary services to rural towns and villages in Alaska. For this model to work, and for animals in these communities to receive veterinary care, the service costs must within the owner's economic means. To achieve this, I am applying to this scholarship in hopes of offsetting some part of my tuition, as the fewer loans I have to take out, the sooner I will be able to achieve my goal.

My mother, who raised me entirely by herself, suffers from untreated bipolar disorder. My childhood worldview was shaped by turmoil and disconnect and my keenest yearning in young adulthood was to form deep, meaningful connections with those around me and to be a source of stability and refuge for others who needed it. I followed this passion the vehemence and idealism of youth; at the age of 23, wound up acquiring guardianship for my two cousins-once-removed, ages seven and ten, while I was on academic exchange in the last year of my undergraduate studies. They were also raised by a mother who struggled with untreated mental illness, who was able to offer them even less consistent care than mine. In hindsight, the fact that I was their primary caregiver for nearly four years seems absurdly unrealistic, but if my childhood taught me anything, it was independence and resilience. All in all, we managed well, entirely due to the support and professional help that we were able to receive along the way. Each of us received years of individual and family therapy, and while the youngest has continued to struggle, the eldest and I, though we both followed non-traditional paths, found our way in the world. As I've aged, I've repeatedly run headfirst into the side effects brought on by my upbringing. The walls that fierce self-reliance builds, and the other negative aspects of cPTSD and adverse poly vagal attachment dynamics. The faded headlong passion of youth has instead necessitated the difficult, yet crucial, work of healing and self-care. It's been a long journey, but I'm glad to still be on it. I'm glad, too, that while my personal life has lead to a very non-traditional academic path, that the journey gave me a skillset and wealth of compassion that I never would have otherwise, and I'm now on a trajectory to obtain my doctor of veterinary medicine, a career that will honor all lessons I learned along the road.