Susan Wagner works as a small-animal veterinarian at Cedar Ridge Animal Hospital in Asheville, North Carolina, and considers her profession to be the best job in the world. She loves exploring the Blue Ridge Mountains with her husband, two daughters and enthusiastic mutt Mackenzie.
If you have ever hiked Big Bradley Falls near Saluda, North Carolina, you know crossing Cove Creek to get there requires some navigation. Determining which rocks are the sturdiest to step on and which route is the safest takes a little planning and strategy, which is where our rescue mutt, Mackenzie, shines. She doesn’t hesitate to charge through the water, darting back and forth multiple times with a smile on her doggy face as if to show us “you can go this way, or you can go this way” while we cautiously take our time. To Mackenzie, there are endless options. No path is wrong. In her mind, they’re all the best.
Mackenzie is a shelter mutt who was the opposite of the “pick of the litter.” She was the last puppy in her litter to be adopted and often gets called “Buddy” by strangers who think she’s a boy. She hates wearing a bandana or any type of clothing and has no idea what to do with a tennis ball. It will hit her right in the head if you try to get her to catch it. She doesn’t know any tricks. But when she’s on a trail, she becomes a completely different dog. It’s as if she has found her purpose to life. There is no sofa, treat or activity that makes her happier. She was meant to be a mountain dog and comes alive when she’s amongst them.
Mackzenzie spent the first several years of her life with us in Raleigh, where I settled after graduating from North Carolina State’s Veterinary School in 2003. I loved my job in a busy small animal hospital for 14 years, but I never had much time to take Mackenzie on walks. You would think a veterinarian’s dog would be spoiled beyond belief, but with two kids, a husband and a busy career she was at the bottom of my priority list.
On weekends, our family would often travel to the mountains. We needed hikes with an incline and more nature in general. My husband, Ron, and I both grew up in Hendersonville, and I can easily say that I never appreciated the peaks around us. I took for granted the significance of the fresh air and beauty they provided. It wasn’t until I was working 11-hour days that I realized the only time I was coming up for that much-needed fresh air was on those weekends. So we decided to come back.
After moving to Asheville, I joined an animal hospital that operates at a much slower pace and have taken on a schedule that has allowed me to spend more time with my family. I’ve also expanded my veterinary skills to treating cases unique to mountain living, such as the 12-year-old Shih Tzu who felt the need to defend her yard from a bear to closing the wounds of a dog on the wrong end of an angry wild turkey. I never once saw cases like that working in Raleigh.
But mostly, living in the Blue Ridge Mountains has allowed me to get Mackenzie back to her happy place, charging through trails and creeks with that look on her face—a dog and her mom who feel fully free and excited about so many paths that can be taken. The mountains have a way of bringing that out.
The story above appears in our November / December 2020 issue.
