I recently visited Dog Mountain in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, a 150-acre haven, set in the mountains, for dogs and their humans. There are hiking trails, ponds for swimming, and fields for play. There is a gallery, featuring the work of artist Stephen Huneck (who donated the land), and most important to me, a chapel to honor furry companions who have departed. I read about Dog Mountain years ago, and it was finally time for a pilgrimage.
My time at Dog Mountain was more emotional than I anticipated, and started with fighting back tears when I was still several miles away. Arriving in the parking lot, I was greeted with dog statues, dog weathervanes on the buildings, and, well, dogs of all varieties. I found myself back in that dog-centric life, the life I cherished, the life that I left when Murdock departed.
In the art gallery, every surface is covered with Stephen Huneck’s beautiful work. His muse was dogs, the centerpiece most often his cherished black lab. It seemed like kismet that after waiting for years to make this visit, I was welcomed with the images of dozens of black labs.
Dog Chapel. Originally, one wall of the chapel was set aside for visitors to attach photos and notes to honor their furry friends. Twenty-five years later, every inch of every wall is covered, from floor to ceiling. The stained glass windows feature dogs and the pews are bookended with wood carvings of dogs. It is the most grace-filled place I have ever spent time in. I added Murdock’s picture to the thousands, right next to a stained glass window that included the word “joy” – that seemed most appropriate.
I spent several hours walking the trails, taking in the scenery and watching dogs with their humans. I knew that my visit would be meaningful, but I had not expected it to be so emotional. Thinking about Murdock, missing him, wondering how to walk through life without him – yes, those things are difficult, but they are on my heart every day. What was it about this place that evoked such deep feelings?
When we lose a human loved one, there are countless locations to visit or drive by, whether planned or unexpected, that invite us to remember. It may be a cemetery or gravesite; but it can also be a favorite restaurant, the house they lived in, the church they attended. Those memories keep our human loved ones a consistent presence in our lives. When we lose a furry soulmate, there are fewer places to encounter such memories. Other than his favorite parks (which I still visit) and the veterinarian, Murdock’s world was my home. When I leave my house, I won’t happen upon a place that calls to mind a memory of my boy. That makes life without him a little lonelier, a bit more empty.
But Dog Chapel was different. It was filled with the tokens of humans who brought their grief and their memories to that sacred space, and shared them. It was comforting to be surrounded by expressions of love between humans and their furry soulmates, and to know that there are others out there walking this same, difficult, lonely journey. It was a place where I could pause, remember, be grateful, and grieve.
Murdock never set a paw outside of Michigan, but now his memory is part of the fabric of Dog Chapel, with our bond woven amongst all of the other love stories. As pet loss grievers, we may not have the typical places to honor our loved one or locations that spark a memory – but we can create them.
