You can hardly hike a trail in the Front Range without spotting one. One-third heeler, one-quarter lab, one-fifth aussie and pure unfiltered joy, the mountain mutt is a Colorado staple.
The Denver metro area alone has dozens of rescue organizations and shelters dedicated to plucking these pariahs from areas they’re unwanted — reservations, slums, former households, kill shelters — and finding them forever homes in a state where dogs are perhaps more in demand than anywhere else. If you’re searching for a new four-legged hiking buddy, consider forgoing the $1,500 purebred Liechtensteinian Coarse-Haired Manatee Shepherd Dog. Your local shelter is brimming with wonderful mixed-breeds (and some pure, too) awaiting a lifetime of love and adventure.
It’s not all sunshine and butterflies. Like anything in life, there are pros and cons to adopting a mountain mutt. Here are a few, in honor of my own pup’s Gotcha Day:
I’ll stop short of saying a mountain mutt is the best hiking partner ever. The world is full of some pretty awesome people. Sometimes those people are busy, however, and you still want to escape the city for a while. A mountain mutt will be your constant companion, whether it’s a morning run in the foothills or a week-long backpacking trip deep in the wilderness. You’ll always have a tail-wagging, tongue-lolling, bright-eyed pup padding along at your side. The things they do will be the constant source of smiles and laughter. After adopting a mountain mutt, it’s like the trails previously viewed in grainy black-and-white transition to full high-definition color.
“Who Rescued Who?”
“I ❤ My Rescue Mutt”
We’ve all seen them. At best we regarded them with indifference, at worst we rolled our eyes and made snide comments about their excessive lameness to our friends. Yet there you are, a week after adopting a dog, standing in front of the magnet display at your local pet store. Maybe they’re not so bad, you tell yourself. Maybe they’re actually pretty damn cool. Roughly $15 later, you’ve purchased all three and the only remaining debate is in which order they should go on your back windshield.
Two caveats. First, you shouldn’t adopt a dog just because you can’t afford one from a breeder. Responsible pet ownership requires at least a modicum of financial security. You’re also welcoming a new family member for a decade or more, if you’re lucky. The initial price tag shouldn’t play much of a part in such a huge commitment. (It’s a bargain, any way you look at it.) Second, I have nothing against pure breeds or people who own them. I grew up with black labs and Rottweilers and understand the allure of “that’s what I’ve always had” and wanting a healthy dog with quirks and traits to which you’re accustomed.
That said, a typical adoption fee is $150-300. A breeder probably charges four times as much. Is $1,000 really worth the difference between a German Shepherd from Trump Family Farms and a shepherd-mix that looks and acts almost exactly the same? You can even put the savings toward (gasp!) training, toys and other essentials, dog sports or outdoor gear. The latter might be frustrating, though, because…
Apparently almost every major manufacturer of outdoor gear for dogs uses the same labrador retriever as a size/fit model. The wildly varying builds of rescue mutts present a challenge. My dog Zia, for example, fits in gear — sometimes even comfortably — ranging from extra small to medium from the same brand. A 40-pound border-collie mix, rocking the same jacket as a pug and the same pack as a labradoodle. It’s a constant game of trial-and-error and unending adjustments. With the array of options out there, at least you’re guaranteed to find something that works. Eventually.
Many rescue animals have suffered some form of hardship. Maybe it was days or months or even years on the street. Maybe it was getting picked up as a newborn from the side of the road and riding 500 miles with other yelping puppies for the privilege of being poked and prodded by a strange veterinarian before an adoption event. Maybe it was receiving an off-brand toy from the dollar store instead of a KONG. The horror.
The past remains a mystery for most rescue animals. Regardless what they’ve endured, mountain mutts typically return love and kindness a hundred fold. Who knows, maybe it’s the first affection they’ve ever experienced. Once built back up, it’s hard to tear these pups down. Mental and physical toughness are key traits of any good hiking partner. Mountain mutts have these attributes in spades.
Your aussie/collie mix might be able to summit Mt. Everest faster than Kilian Jornet, but the fame is hard to come by unless you own a Wolfdog, golden retriever or some sort of Heeler pack. Those breeds admittedly do look darn cute a quarter-mile from the trailhead parking lot during their magic-hour shoots. You and your weird-looking mountain mutt will trot right on by these spectacles on your way to a 14-mile summit hike, gladly trading those 5,000 likes for a rewarding day exploring the outdoors.
Ego fuels many outdoor sports. People want to go farther, faster and over more difficult terrain than their peers. The beauty of the setting and the deep sense of place that draw many of us to the mountains in the first place are often lost while checking boxes off a list or striving to beat your rival’s ascent time.
Sharing the outdoors with a mountain mutt slows everything back down. Priorities shift. You can still aspire to complete the 14ers or lead 5.12 or whatever else, but it’s no longer the singular goal. Just as enjoyable are long ambles with little objective other than garnering inspiration and fulfillment from the landscape, watching your pup splash around in a creek as you fill your lungs with wintry mountain air and your eyes with life-affirming panoramas.
If you get on the waitlist now, your great-grandchildren have a 40-percent chance of volunteering for your favorite shelter or rescue organization. The supply of willful help far exceeds the demand in the Front Range. Don’t fret. Though the rescue through which you adopted your dog might not be accepting applications, there are plenty of smaller and newer organizations that do need your assistance. A little research will turn up a dozen rescues in desperate need of support. Let go of your loyalties, keep an open mind, exercise your Google-fu and you’ll be a hero to needy canines in no time.
Again, I’m not against pure breeds, especially when they are performing the working tasks for which they were designed. It’s difficult, however, to understand the purposeful creation of household pets when there are thousands of rescues already on this earth in need of loving homes. Mixes can be nearly identical in appearance and personality to purebred dogs. It’s easy to find exactly what you’re looking for in a market as saturated with rescue organizations as Colorado.
The adopt-or-die scenario is admittedly rare in the Front Range, given the high demand for dogs and the surprising number of no-kill shelters. If I hadn’t taken Zia home, someone else would have that very same day. She was in no danger. That’s true of many mutts awaiting adoption in Colorado.
Even given this pet-friendly climate, however, nearly 50 animals are euthanized every day in shelters across our state, according to Colorado Public Radio.
What’s also true is that every dog adopted from one of Denver’s wonderful and humane rescues opens a vacancy for another dog who might be facing grimmer odds elsewhere. A puppy that would have a dozen suitors in Colorado but none in their kill shelter in rural New Mexico has to make it here, first. Space is limited.
Though this list was evenly split and largely tongue-in-cheek, the pros for adopting a mountain mutt far outweigh the cons. It’s like comparing Capitol Hill to Mt. Elbert. Go out there and create your own Gotcha Day. I promise, you won’t regret it.