ST. JOHNSBURY, Vt. — Shane Geers, an emergency veterinarian technician from Chicago, recently found out that his 15-year-old dog might have cancer. So he loaded up his jeep with his beloved pit bull/mini schnauzer mix and his five other dogs and drove 1,000 miles to attend the Fall Dog Party at Dog Mountain.
“It’s a bucket list thing for Lando, kind of a celebration for him,” Geers says.
Dog Mountain, purchased by artist Stephen Huneck and his wife, Gwen, in 1995, is a valentine to man’s (and woman’s) best friend.
The one-of-a-kind Dog Chapel, perhaps Stephen Huneck’s greatest work, is the centerpiece. It includes hand-carved pews with labradors as the bookends, dog-themed stained-glass windows, and a winged golden retriever on top of the steeple.
Every inch of wall is filled with dog photos and messages of love, taped layer upon layer. It is a tribute to the power of unconditional love.
A sign outside the chapel door reads. “Welcome, all creeds, all breeds, no dogma allowed.”
The grounds never close. Leashes are optional and there are dog ponds, trails, and a dog agility course on 150 acres that also include the Stephen Huneck Gallery, featuring his famous woodcuts and best-selling children’s books on his beloved black lab, Sally.
The vision for the Dog Chapel came 30 years ago, after Huneck survived a near-death experience. He fell down a flight of stairs, and spent two months in a coma.
He had to learn to walk again, and his beloved dogs were with him every step. He decided to build the Dog Chapel himself.
“I want to celebrate the spiritual bond between humans and dogs,” Huneck told the Globe in 2000, the year it opened.
“Since dogs are family members too. I thought it would be wonderful if we could create a ritual space to help achieve closure and lessen the pain when we lose a beloved dog,” he wrote.
Visitors can even spread a dog’s ashes from Angel Dog Overlook with its panoramic views.
This year’s fall party drew about 1,000 people. Inside the chapel, Tricia Butler of Chelmsford and her dog, Stella, watches as her husband, Dale, carefully places photos of her dog, Beau, next to a stained-glass image of a black lab with the word “Faith” written on it.
“We lost Beau in February,” she says of their labrador retriever mix. “He was always happy, always smiling. So it’s just hard, because he was my soul dog and I miss having him by my side. He would have loved this today. I mean, this would have literally been the greatest thing he would have ever done, just being around all the people, all the dogs.”
A single tear trickling down her cheek, she wipes it away before it reaches her dog, Stella.
The couple is also grieving their dog, Charlie.
“Charlie was our little Aussie and he unfortunately had epilepsy. He was only three when we lost him.”
She takes a deep breath.
“Just to see this incredible place that we’ve heard about. It’s overwhelming.”
“But it helps to come here and just see these pictures. Thousands of them. What an amazing place. I don’t feel alone.”
Nobody in the Dog Chapel likes that dogs’ lives are so short compared to humans.
“It’s so unfair,” she says.
There’s also a dark side of Dog Mountain.
Stephen Huneck, for all his whimsical humor and talent, battled depression. In 2010, he was forced to lay off most of his staff after the Great Recession. Two days later, he committed suicide. Gwen took her life three years later. (Anyone with suicidal ideation should Dial 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline for help.)
“Isn’t that terrible? It’s so sad to hear that, but it’s so wonderful that this place is still going,” says Butler.
It hasn’t been easy.
Two July storms wiped out the road and forced the complex to close. In September, a teenage girl allegedly stole up to $200 from a collection bucket. Captured on video, she was apprehended by Vermont State Police despite dying her hair black in an effort to conceal her identity.
“Thankfully, VSP received approximately 20+ tips from the public, which led to her being located and charged,” according to an email from arresting officer Trooper Griffin Pearson.
Her crime brings to mind the famous James Thurber quote.
“If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.”
But on a warm, sunny October day, this place is simply Doggie Nirvana.
The wagging tails provide a canine metronome that measures dog happiness. There are contests, including a kissing one between owner and dog, that would not be condoned by the CDC. The pups retrieve tennis balls from a pond like they are charging the beaches of Normandy. There is also a pumpkin pie-eating contest for dogs, and live music and food trucks. In a four-hour period it was impossible to find a single poop not picked up or anybody nipped in a dog fight.
The Geers family had so much fun they were among the last to leave.
Back in Illinois, Geers confirms that the road trip to Dog Mountain was a big hit.
“It was 100 percent worth the drive,” he says. “I wish there was more places like that.”
Stan Grossfeld can be reached at stanley.grossfeld@globe.com.
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