“Your puppy is so cute! What’s her name?” 

“How did you get her?”

It’s a long story.

It all started with a mysterious horse. 

In the spring of 2024, Jaden, Mallow and I took our first motor boat trip on Lake Powell. We explored slot canyons, sandy beaches, and swam in blue water under red towers. 

On the last night of the five day trip, we motored into one of Glen Canyon’s longest side canyons looking for a place to camp. Houseboats dominated the open bays at the mouth of the canyon, so we kept driving with the hopes of finding a quiet, private beach.

After ten miles, the towering red and white stained rock narrowed as we approached the back of the canyon. The water became shallow, soupy, and full of quicksand near the end. The boat couldn’t pass, so we anchored to the nearest sandy beach.

The beach was large, continuous and backed up to a towering cliff of crumbling boulders and a series of slickrock benches, enough space to go for a long hike. 

Standing halfway between us and the wall of rock was a brown horse. Smallish, but healthy looking. The horse did not move, but stared directly at us. (I didn’t take any photos that day, so I’m asking you to use your imagination here).

“Uh, do y’all see that horse?” Jaden asked, back stiff.

“Oh shit,” I said, grabbing Mallow’s harness. She has a predatory passion for chasing horses.

Mallow was found roaming the property of Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. The largest sanctuary in the U.S. with over 4,000 acres of desert land and home to over 1,600 dogs, cats, horses, birds, bunnies, and pigs. 

The employees knew Mallow was there, but didn’t know how she got there or how long she’d been roaming. Every effort to lure her in with treats and water was in vain. Mallow seemed skittish and afraid of human contact. 

Each day, Mallow emerged from the surrounding canyons to chase the horses through an open field. By night, she’d return to wherever she slept and kept herself safe. This continued for a week or more, until the horses were fed up with Mallow’s antics. 

One day a horse kicked Mallow’s back. Mallow crumpled to the ground, then got up and limped straight toward the employees with a look on her face that said, “Okay, fine. I need help.”

They leashed Mallow and brought her in to heal for two weeks before I adopted her. In the two years since I had her, the only time she ever ran away from me was when she spotted a horse to chase. 

On the beach of Lake Powell, I quickly tethered her long leash to the boat. She didn’t struggle, she didn’t jump. Her eyes didn’t narrow into that predator look that takes over. She didn’t smell the air, she didn’t even look in the direction of the horse.

That was odd. Normally she knows a horse is nearby before we do. 

We unloaded the umbrella and cooler for a cheese and cracker lunch and hid from the sun. The horse never moved, except for her eyes as she watched us unload.

“That horse is freaking me out,” I said, sipping on a Bubbly water.

“And where did she come from? Those cliffs look too sheer and steep for the horse to have come from the top,” Jaden said, noting the 200 feet of vertical overhang. 

“Maybe there is a way down somewhere. We can go for a hike and check it out,” I suggested, so we ventured out with Mallow on leash.

We followed a wash away from the water, wandering through the sandy walls with exposed roots from the tamarisk that grew on top and obstructed our view. The floor of the wash was covered in pile after pile of horse shit. An abnormal amount of poop for one horse.

When we climbed out of the wash, I stopped and said, “Ah, horse!” 

We unknowingly popped out nearly ten feet away from the odd horse, who was standing in the exact same position, only turning her head toward us now. 

Again, Mallow’s eyes did not narrow. Her tail didn’t straighten. She didn’t pull on the leash. It was as if she didn’t see The Mysterious Horse. 

“Are you real?” Jaden whispered. I giggled but then stared at the horse as she did not move. She didn’t spook from our presence nor did she seem to flick her tail.

We backed away, turning to scramble over the loose boulder field to the first bench of smooth sandstone. Everywhere we went, the ground was littered with poop. Poop that seemed old, crusted and dried from what seemed like years in the sun. 

“It looks like this horse has been here for centuries,” I joked, stepping over another pile of dried poop.

“It really does,” Jaden nodded. “But she’s a juvenile.”

“Maybe there’s other horses here,” I wondered.

We explored the glens, cracks, and pot holes that the slickrock boasted. No where could we find any way to top out on the mesa. No moki steps or ledges or any way for the horse to get in or out. The walls simply cliffed out.

“I wonder if she is trapped,” I said. 

“It appears so,” Jaden nodded.

“Did you notice that pile of hay on the beach?” I asked.

“Yeah, but who would keep their horse out here?” Jaden asked.

We shrugged, but The Mysterious Horse had our fascination. We joked that night in our sleeping bags that we would wake up and she would be standing right above us.

The next day, The Mysterious Horse was standing in the exact same spot, as if she hadn’t moved all night. Still watching us with a slight turn of her head. 

“Okay, this horse is creeping me out,” I said.

“I think we’re also creeping the horse out,” Jaden added.

We packed up and headed back to Page that afternoon. Stay with me, here. Disco will come into the picture soon. Like I said, it’s a long story. 

A little less than a year passed before I saw a video posted on YouTube that caught my attention, posted by a man named Thor who made Lake Powell videos. I’m not usually one to watch YouTube. Especially 30 minute long videos.

But the title drew me in: Rescuing Solo! The Horse Stuck in Navajo Canyon!

Solo? Could that be The Mysterious Horse? 

I had to click. 

The video showed Thor and his Dad discovering The Mysterious Horse in 2023, about a year before we saw her. But they found her in a different condition.

Her skeleton was exposed and on the brink of death (warning: this is shown in the video). Thor’s mom, Debbie, became obsessed with helping The Mysterious Horse. 

She called the National Park Service. Not our responsibility. 

She called the Navajo Nation. Not our horse.

She called animal protection agencies in Utah and Arizona. Nothing we can do.

Debbie and Thor’s family took the matter of The Mysterious Horse into their own hands. It appeared that rescuing the horse was not possible immediately, so they decided to do everything they could to sustain her.

This is a story of altruism and the best of humanity coming together. Thor’s family found someone in town with a bigger boat who was willing to drive them out to bring a month or two’s worth of hay to the horse. More people in Page got involved. Salt licks, hay, and motor boat trips were all donated to the cause.

Thor and his dad did some exploring on the beach and found the skeletal remains of Solo’s herd. She was the last horse left alive, which explained all the poop we found. 

It was assumed that the horses walked into the canyon during Lake Powell’s low water years of 2020-2022 where more shoreline and beach was exposed. Then, the lake rose 1-1.5 feet a day in summer of 2023, effectively trapping the horses in the back of the canyon. 

By the time we met Solo, The Mysterious Horse, she was already being cared for and fed for nearly a year by Thor’s family.

Debbie and Thor didn’t give up, and eventually rescued The Mysterious Horse. Watch the video for the full heartwarming story.

A team successfully got Solo on a boat, motored her out of the canyon and back to the boat ramp where the staff from Best Friends Animal Sanctuary were waiting to take her to the same place we adopted Mallow from. 

When we learned about Solo’s survival story, we felt the need to visit her. To say hello! and congratulations, you’re alive! and we love you!

“Let’s go see where Mallow lived and say hello to Solo,” I said one morning on a whim.

The sanctuary has hiking trails, so we followed one to a hidden lake under an alcove of rock, not knowing that this would be Mallow’s last walk as a solo dog. 

The Mysterious Horse was recovering well and making friends with the other horses. She endured over a year of solitude in the canyon. 

Later that afternoon, I walked into the Visitor Center and put my name and phone number on the 3-6 month puppy list. Yes, that’s a real list.

Jaden and I had talked about getting another dog, and I wanted it to be another husky like Mallow. The employee behind the desk said she would call if they got any husky puppies.

One thing led to another and before we knew it we were in a room with eight week old puppies, and Jaden was holding one with floppy ears and she was looking into our eyes and our hearts melted and we said, “This one!” 

“We’ll take her!” 

And the employee said, “Wonderful! It’s $10 dog day!” 

“Really?” I asked.

“No, it actually starts in a few days but I’ll just give her to you for $10,” he said, handing us a month’s worth of food, a leash, two toys and a vaccinated, spayed puppy for $10. 

All thanks to Thor, his family, and the kind people who worked together to rescue The Mysterious Horse.

We got to add another member to our family, Disco.

Disco was born in February on the day that my family was gathered in Richmond, VA for my grandma’s funeral, which was also the 12th anniversary of my dad’s death. We never can predict the good things coming to us.

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