The plan was to spend three weeks revisiting and rediscovering some of our favorite California fall settings from the Sierra to the beaches, beginning with Yosemite National Park. Yosemite Valley accommodations were surprisingly fully booked even mid-week October. Fortunately, the sprawling Yosemite View Lodge overlooking the Merced River offered convenience and comfort on the doorstep of the park entrance. On a balmy autumn evening, the pizza parlor’s outdoor seating was a pleasant alternative to the lodge’s crowded main restaurant.

We drove into the park early the next morning. The absence of a four-legged companion took zest out of our wanderings, but we decided to make the most of our National Park stop with a hike that was verboten to dogs. We savored the off-season solitude in Tuolumne Meadows on a 9-mile stretch of the legendary John Muir Trail through forests and meadows. Refreshed from a dip in a limpid swimming hole along the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River, we continued to Mammoth Lakes cradled by the Eastern Sierra’s granite pinnacles and palisades

We spent the first couple of days pedaling around the town’s matrix of multi-use paths enchanted by the quaking aspens’ ribbons of autumn gold tracing the creek at the foot of the Sherwin Range. The last two days were pure magic in the heart of the Mammoth Lakes Basin at Tamarack Lodge, our favorite dog-friendly cabin resort celebrating its 100th anniversary. The trails flooded our hearts with memories of all the four-legged pals that had tramped in these mountains with us over the years. We delighted in the absence of summer swarms as we lingered along the shores of lakes McLeod and George entranced by the wind waves sweeping across the water in the shadow of Mammoth Crest’s crags and peaks.

The evening before we were set to beach hop in Southern California, an email popped-up on my screen dangling what would become our next adventure. The subject line simply said “For Your Consideration.” Sherri Del Pozo, the highly principled dog breeder that had chosen us as Gem’s forever home 10 years earlier had attached several photos of a few weeks-old adorable cream-coated, male Siberian husky puppy. I called Del Pozo and found out she had been the nursery for a small litter of three pups, two girls and a boy. The girls were spoken for and she thought the boy was a good match for us. Even as I suffered in angst overnight about travel plans and cancellation policies, upcoming commitments and the overall timing of this new arrival, I was googling Siberian husky names. The minute David and I began referring to the puppy we had never met, as “Kulu” (Inuit term of endearment for young children), I knew we were toast.

We were totally unprepared and ambivalent about our readiness to be dog parents again less than a year since the traumatic loss of Gem. On the other hand, we knew our hearts were with Siberian huskies and it had to be one anointed by Sherri. As fit as we were, we still felt the stamina clock ticking for raising a puppy, especially this high energy independent-thinking breed.

We aborted the beach leg of the trip to scurry for the necessities (crate, bed, play pen, puppy litter box with soft wood shavings, food bowls and chew toys) on our way to Karamad Kennels and Del Pozo’s home hours away in the foothills of Sequoia National Park. The debate between our heart and our brain continued for the entire drive. Our hearts were all smiles at the possibility of welcoming a new pack member while our brains were busy flashing impulse control stop signs.

We walked up to Del Pozo’s front door greeted by a couple of her adult dogs before being thrust into puppy mayhem. Our first encounter with Kulu was watching him play tug of war with his sister’s leg through the kitchen baby gate as she screeched in protest. After a half-hour on the kitchen floor engaging with the adorable ball of mischief, David and I gave each other the “we’re in” nod. I picked up Kulu and looked him in the eye with a wink and said, “you’re not going to make us regret this, are you?” We spent another hour with Del Pozo gathering vital and helpful information about what to expect on the home front with our new fur baby, while the puppy circus at our feet continued in full swing.

We put Kulu in his crate and he crashed with barely a whine of complaint for the three-hour drive home. We had officially committed to embarking on the perilous adventure of puppyhood. Our king bed now accommodated a dog crate between us for the next couple of weeks to minimize his separation anxiety, or so we told ourselves. I had not been responsible for a little four-legged being so vulnerable and dependent in over 30 years and I didn’t remember being so neurotic about puppy breathing and dreaming sounds or as obsessed about stool quality. Days began and ended with text messages to Del Pozo with pesty questions and concerns, all of which she addressed patiently.

Kulu still needed two more vaccinations before he could meet new canine friends or socialize, so our lifestyle changed overnight and our condominium instantly morphed into a 650 square-foot puppy-friendly indoor playpen attached to a 400-square-foot courtyard. I embraced the temporary incarceration, complete with sleep deprivation, needle sharp teeth skin punctures and tears, 3 a.m. relief stumbles in the courtyard and 6 a.m. playtimes juggling and tossing toys to an energizer puppy with the attention span of a flea. David and I took turns on Kulu watch during the day to steal a few productive hours of work and abbreviated workouts. We brought the ultimate shame on the breed by putting Kulu in a pet stroller to extend our range around the neighborhood safely during those critical weeks of confinement.

The amount of joy this love bug brings us has made us believe that “the dog we love today was sent by the dog we loved yesterday.” Knowing how quickly puppyhood turns into a memory and nature turns a dog’s prime time into his golden years, we are cherishing the adventure of his growing up pains while looking forward to the not-so-distant day when the three of us will be cut loose to explore the world together.

Linda B. Mullally and husband David share their passion for travel, outdoor recreation and dogs through articles, hiking books and photography at Falcon.com and Facebook.