Yesterday, on a much-anticipated getaway to Laurel-Snow Gorge, we met Mabel wandering the trails alone. It’s common for people on the Cumberland Trail to let their dogs off-leash in the wilderness area, so we started waiting for her owners to show.

They didn’t.

Mabel joined any passing group of people like she was lost and lonely, at least that’s what it looked like to us. I really wanted some loving owners to come around the trail and let us get on with our walk.

Nessie was doing her best imitation of the Tasmanian Devil trying to get at Bugs Bunny. This beautiful, perfectly behaved, well-groomed Lassie clone looked like a chew toy to Ness. If we were forced into being responsible, it would be one long tug-of-war to keep them separated.

Suzie and I don’t get that many chances to get away alone and it was a beautiful afternoon. Getting to share one of my exploration gems with my wife was a rare treat. I paused. I procrastinated. But one pleading look from Suzie’s teared-up, hazel eyes finally pulled me out of my dream.

This afternoon, we were rescuing a dog.

I tied Tasmanian Nessie to a tree and began introductions. This huge Collie was as well-behaved as she appeared. The pink bandanna and beautiful fur made it obvious she’d recently been bathed and groomed. Somewhere in that massive mane was a collar with tags, numbers and a name.

As Nessie whined and yapped, I called. No answer. The owners were probably just up the stream. We waited. No one came. There was an address on the tag. (Sigh.) I pulled off my belt and made a leash.

Now, what?

Getting two dogs out over streams and rough terrain was going to be difficult. Suzie couldn’t handle Nessie in a pulling frenzy while balancing on rocks over fast water. Mabel was an unknown quantity but, to start, Suzie took her leash.

My worries about Mabel were relieved. She was an obedience school star. She joined us like she had always been there, walking in perfect pace with Suzie over narrow bridges, streams and stepping-stones.

I, on the other hand, had a jealous, five-month-old puppy. By the time we reached the parking area, the devious part of my brain was contemplating a dog-swap. Yes, I resisted.

I called Mabel’s number several times more but there was no answer. Our choices were to wait in hopes of the owner showing up, or start finding the address on the collar and risk leaving the dog at home alone.

We waited. The sun angled down the canyon. We pulled out Nessie’s food and water and offered it to our new friend. As you can imagine, this went over well with Nessie. Mabel took a few laps but had obviously been drinking from the streams. She refused food altogether. She patiently sat beside Suzie like it was her dream come true to find a real family. Golly!

When the ranger came to close the gate for the night, he pulled straight up to Suzie, got out with a smile and drawled (Think Andy Griffith),”Maaaabel, (pause) did you run away from home, (pause) again?”

With that one word we began to understand. We’d been scammed.

“Is this your dog?” we asked.

“Naw. Mabel lives over the mountain but I know the owners. I’ve taken Mabel home a loooooooot.” This last word was almost sung. The ranger grinned like he’d just drunk something that was good to the last drop. “She gets out and comes down the trail to find families and play with the kids. She likes to visit the campers. She looooves kids.”

Taken in by a con artist with a pink kerchief and a pretty smile. It was all just a game to her. As soon as the ranger tried to get Mabel in his truck, the mask came off and her paws dug in. She didn’t want to go home.

Why should she. Apparently there’s a sucker born every minute.

So we loaded up the Tasmanian Retriever and headed home. But like every good con artist, Mabel left us dreaming of what might have been. Visions of perfectly coiffed and well-mannered dogs danced in our heads.

Maybe someday . . .

On the way home I was complaining to Suzie about the audacity of pretending to be faithful and obedient yet constantly running away to have fun at other people’s expense. Suddenly a voice appeared in my head. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was my mom. It’s hard to tell on a Sunday.

It said,”I know what you mean.”

This morning Nessie’s been a perfect dog. I thought, Maybe she learned something from Mabel after all? But, then I wondered what?