The day before leaving on our two week camping trip covering Flagstaff, Grand Canyon north Rim, Zion, Bryce and Chama, our 13 year old spaniel-mix began showing signs that all was not well. He was our daughter Hallee's dog until college called her away and he settled for his daily walk with Michelle and I. Nothing was more important to Schroeder than his walk, so when he was not interested in said activity, we knew he was in bad shape. Toward evening, it became clear we would have to take him to the vet for some expert help. Tearfully, we loaded him in a portable kennel (he could hardly stand) and hauled him to Western Trails animal hospital. The vet was very understanding and helped us make the right decision; that it was time to say goodbye. Horrible way to begin a great trip. We agreed that any thoughts of getting another dog would have to be carefully considered, but that we would be open to the sort of experience we had when Chelly came into our lives. We arrived home two weeks later to find a 90 pound Anatollian Shepherd sitting in our driveway with no identification whatsoever. The girl that looked after our horses said she'd seen him on and off for two weeks around our property while we were gone. During the week that followed, we tried to integrate him into our pack. Chelly was at first quite hostile, but on the fourth day, they had a great run in a field near our house. She would body-slam him and he would roll her over. We called him Simba for his similarity to a lion. Michelle purchased a bunch of big dog accessories and we began to think he might stay. Then, on the fifth day, there was a note posted around the neighborhood and it turned out that Max (his real name) had finally been missed by the family up the road from us. They retrieved him and we breathed a sigh (mostly) of relief. The next day we were returning the items Michelle had bought at Petco and what was out front but the Animal Humane Society's mobile pet adoption bus. I thought we might skate on by b/c no dogs out front caught our eye, but the volunteers urged us to look inside. In the last cage was a little red heeler pup. I knew it was all over. We called him Simba and took him home.
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