Pursuing childhood dream gives local vet life full of surprises

WASILLA -- Ask a group of children what they want to be when they grow up and no doubt you'll hear at least one of them reply, "a veterinarian." It seems a natural connection, kids and animals, but seldom do the many who answered with the standard answer grow up to pursue that goal. One girl, however, never strayed from her childhood dream of caring for her animal friends and grew up to become a vet caring for Valley pets.

"I wanted to be a vet for as long as I can remember, from the time I was very young," Joanne Rehn said about being a Valley veterinarian. "I always loved animals, but more than that, I always wanted to help them as well."

Rehn, who graduated from the University of Minnesota College of Veterinary Medicine in 1979, has been practicing in Mat-Su for the last 20 years. As the owner of All Creatures Veterinary Clinic Inc. in Wasilla, she is living where she wants and doing what makes her happy. It didn't start out so comfortable, though.

Fresh out of vet college in the early '80s, Rehn said she worked at a couple of different practices in her home state of Minnesota and also enjoyed some work at the Duluth Zoo while looking for the right fit. She found the zoo work intriguing and liked the learning aspects, she said, but it wasn't something she wanted to make a career of. When an opportunity arose to do some relief work in Wasilla, and later a full-time position, Rehn said she knew Alaska was where she wanted to be. So she packed up and headed north to work at Susitna Valley Veterinary Hospital outside Wasilla. Shortly before that clinic closed, Rehn started her own practice by working out of her truck and doing house calls. It had been her dream to try everything, she said, and to treat all kinds of animals. Initially, she said, she did a lot of dairy work at Point MacKenzie.

"I wanted to be a vet who does it all," she said.

In 1995, she found a more permanent location off the Palmer-Wasilla Highway, where her business is still thriving. But many aspects of the business have since changed.

She primarily worked with large animals in the beginning, but it got to a point when continuing that type of work wasn't economically feasible, Rehn said.

"If I sent someone out in the truck for a call, they would be gone most of the afternoon," she said.

In the meantime, the demand for working with smaller animals was growing, Rehn said, and her desire to venture out also lessened.

"We got to that point and I haven't missed it," she said with a chuckle, "you know, the horse colic in the middle of the night at 30 below."

Veterinary medicine, she said, has also changed. For instance, new technology like ultrasound machines have allowed easier diagnosis in many cases.

"We have the opportunity to do a lot more with them now, and that's fun," she said.

Pet ownership philosophy, Rehn said, has also changed dramatically during the 20 years she has been in practice here.

"There are many people like me, who feel their animals are their kids and treat them as such," she said.

Rehn's "kids" are three cats, Rompun (the name of an anesthetic drug), Piper and Rory; three dogs, Terra, Cinder and Shadow; and three horses, Magnum, Fancy and Misty. For several years she and her four-legged family lived in the residence attached to the clinic. Doing so kept her overhead down and helped her get her business on solid ground. But there were drawbacks. Being on location made it easier to respond to emergencies, she said, but also meant no breaks.

"I couldn't do it emotionally," she said, "you need to be able to get away. Physically leaving the place is important."

Now she and her four-legged family members live about 15 minutes away. It's close enough to respond for emergencies, she said, but yet it's away. The dogs still accompany her to the office every day.

Throughout her years as a Valley veterinarian, Rehn said she has seen many strange, unusual, sad and fascinating things, many of which are documented in photographs at her office. There was the dog with his head stuck in a car wheel, the Rottweiler who had secretly swallowed a metal button, the stillborn Siamese twin goats joined at the chest and the St. Bernard who came in friendly and wagging his tail with a 16-penny nail through his foot. And then there was the dog that went into labor but after two years had never given birth. When Rehn opened up the dog she discovered the animal's uterus had ruptured and puppy parts had lodged in and around different organs of the mother's body. She removed them and sewed the mother back up -- and the dog lived.

Rehn tells these stories with the excitement and matter-of-factness that can only be enjoyed by someone with a zeal for science, physiology and the unexpected. Working with animals also provides her the opportunity to be a sleuth.

"Since animals can't talk … it's almost like detective work, and I find that challenging and fun," she said. "There's nothing like the satisfaction you get from helping out these little critters, by making them feel better and making the owners happy."

That satisfaction, the thrill of the unexpected and the next challenge walking through the door all confirm the decision Rehn made so many years ago as a young girl.

"So after 24 years it's still interesting, 'cause you never know what's going to happen today," she said.