I kept asking myself why raising one Siberian husky puppy at 68 years old seemed so much more daunting than raising two coyote hybrids 30 years earlier. Looking back, the obliviousness of youth was a factor and life with dogs was generally less complicated, minus of course Lobo’s and Shiloh’s dislike of children, instinct to shake the squeak out of small dogs and their insatiable appetite for our neighbors’ chickens.

Moving to Cachagua to build a house with a 10-acre dog yard and making national forests and wilderness areas our pack’s playground, at least remedied the chicken problem. Deer hooves and femurs left at lion kill sites were treasured chew toys. Gnawing on deer antlers was dental care. Annual check-ups meant vaccination boosters.

Dinner was dry kibble topped with whatever was on our plate. Susie Blufford’s puppy class was the main game in town until you got serious about obedience with Pluis Davern at the Del Monte Kennel Club. Bits of additive-filled hot dogs were the training treats of choice before allergy concerns put designer natural choices like freeze dried ostrich and vanilla lavender snacks on the shelves.

In the 1990s, freelancing for various publications led to my becoming the first travel columnist for Dog Fancy Magazine. My husband David and I, with Lobo and Shiloh, crisscrossed the country and Canada writing about “dog-friendly” getaways. We got very stealthy at sneaking our coyotes into hotel rooms.

By the early 2000s families were traveling with their “fur babies” and hotels now had a new clientele. This created a demand for dog walkers, sitters, nannies and daycare services.

Boarding kennels became “pet hotels” and grooming shops were “pet spas.” The United States “went to the dogs” in a new way, launching me into the author arena with contracts for California dog-friendly hiking and travel guides.

Except for inheriting a friend’s rescue and dog sitting for friends, we were a dogless home for 10 years after Lobo and Shiloh crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. Gem was an 11-month-old Siberian husky when she came into our life in the fall of 2014.

Her unexpected loss in December 2023 ripped our hearts to shreds. Last October we gave ourselves permission to love another Siberian husky puppy, named Kulu. I knew that this furry bundle of joy came with needle sharp love bites and middle of rainy night potty calls.

The most stressful part of puppyhood should have been a few weeks of puncture wounds and sleep deprivation. Once Kulu was vaccinated I expected the rest to flow into place as simply as it had with other dogs. I had no idea how people’s exploding love of dogs had detonated a mega business bomb around all aspects of care, training and entertainment.

The first reality check was how the veterinary medicine business model had “evolved” while our family had been sheltered in a 40-year time warp with Dr. George Bishop. Bishop practiced the old fashion way, seven days a week until his passing last year in his 80s. His generation’s conservative approach to preventative care, diagnoses and treatment has been eclipsed by a corporate wave promoting increased follow-up office visits with more tests, medications and vaccinations.

It wasn’t enough to hunt and settle on a new veterinarian, I had to decipher the expanded vaccination menu related to potential diseases I never heard of and weigh the protection against the list of possible alarming reactions. I had to get up to speed on the updated neutering protocols and current training philosophies.

The plethora of kibble brands and diet trends was head-spinning. Then there was the barrage of new products ranging from chew toys to IQ games. Balls and rope toys were no longer sufficiently stimulating. At 12 weeks old, Kulu had mastered problem-solving with advanced treat puzzles.

I was so busy observing the vaccination schedule and getting retrained to train Kulu under Andee Burleigh, our local dog whisperer that I missed registration for Pre-K of puppy socialization classes.

One minute Kulu was gifted and demonstrating above average impulse control for a four-month-old dog.

The next, I’m a stressed out inadequate dog mom scampering to find remedial puppy play manner classes because our tiny tyrant seems behind in picking up his fellow canines’ social cues on the playground.

His education was consuming my calendar and my energy between the California Canine training schools and the SPCA’s roster of classes plus the daily trips to dog-friendly public spaces

. Short of accosting strangers walking their dogs’ owners along Scenic Road in Carmel, David and I were desperate to find suitable playmates to help improve Kulu’s social skills.

Our success at crate training Kulu was one thing we both felt pretty smug about until the night we got played and that crafty little husky found his way into our bed, permanently.

It was our recent attendance at the SPCA’s off-leash “puppy social” that finally assuaged my qualms about my fitness as a puppy mom.

Kulu exhibited natural husky play style with appropriate canine manners thanks to a skilled SPCA volunteer’s ability to pair up compatible playmates as he monitored and redirected behavior. I beamed watching Kulu unleash his free happy spirit in a safe environment for almost an hour.

On the drive home I thought about all the dogs that had shared a slice of my adult life and reminded myself that whether they were called best friends, trail companions or fur babies, I had raised each of them into well-adjusted family members. I had even succeeded in making model hotel guests out of our coyote delinquents.

Proof that I had not lost my touch, was that Kulu was thriving as a sweet confident dog. Trends may change, but my instincts tell me that love, patience, consistency and a stash of tasty treats is still the recipe to reinforce the good manners necessary for Kulu to enjoy the benefits of our adventuresome lifestyle with us as the pack leaders.

Carmel’s Linda and David Mullally share their passion for travel, outdoor recreation and dogs through articles, hiking books and photography at Falcon.com