We didn't adopt. Canela adopted us.

By Michael Ashcraft --

SANTA MARIA DE JESUS, GUATEMALA -- For a stray dog here, Canela -- as we called her for her cinnamon color -- seemed family friendly.

I reached down and scratched her head as we registered and paid to ascend Agua Volcano. I was used to stray dogs being mostly hostile, snarling barking curs that you had a stone ready to throw at (sorry, the dogs in Guatemala were rough 12 years ago when I was a missionary).

But I didn't understand what was happening when the dog attached herself to us and accompanied us up the volcano, classified in the guidebooks as a "strenuous" climb.

All the while Canela wagged her tail and played, hunted wild animals, accepted snacks and water from us. As we descended, we came across a French tourist, also accompanied by a dog. "Is this your dog?" I asked. No, he said, they are the guide dogs who go with you for a little food and water.

Then I realized what was going on. Canela was a guide dog. But she was more than just that. She had found a family for the day and wagged her tail unceasingly. Of course, my heart broke and love swelled up.

Canela had adopted us.

I charged off ahead of my group of 10 friends from Guatemala City, determined to bag the peak. As I descended I really began to struggle. On the one hand, my muscles had burned out. On the other, the soles of sneakers lacked adequate grip, causing me to slip and fall nine times until Pastor Ludving fashioned me two walking sticks from branches using his machete.

I was struggling. But the dog shared no such similar tiredness. Instead, she charged off into the overgrowth looking for prey. She would always pop back into the group, emerging from the plentiful foliage to startle us.

Canela generally led the way, about 10 yards ahead, as if a scout to protect us from any dangers.

Climbing about a half mile in elevation over a 6 mile trek, and then descending, effortlessly seemed like too much striving for the few scraps we offered her.

No, this was no contracted guide. This dog was doing a labor of love.

To be a stray in Guatemala is a savage life. Canela lacked the protection and love of having a home. So for her to have a family -- even for a day -- was a huge stroke of luck that she seemed to show continuously.

"I have a family!" I imagined her saying through her wagging tail. "I have a family!"

Honestly, I was tempted to bring her back to the United States to be with my dog Luna. But I realized this would be costly and difficult. So instead, I left her -- we left her -- there on the fitted block street next to the plaza as we rolled out that evening

She lay just outside our van, as we used the bathroom and got snacks. She was watching us and wagged her tail tiredly.

I went into the market and bought 4 ounces of chicharrón, an unaccustomed treat and a prize for her hard work.

I didn't, couldn't, adopt her. But Canela will never leave my heart.

Mike Ashcraft teaches journalism at the Lighthouse Christian Academy of Santa Monica.