To pace him, every so often I dug in my edges and enforced a break. During
one stop, Paco began licking his paws like a cat. On inspection, Patricia
found ice pellets lodged between his pads. She helped him with the
grooming.
When we reached the open, flat run out at the bottom, Paco eased into a
jog. He hung his tongue lazily out of his mouth, signaling joy. Not
wanting to overdo the first day, we rested him in the car with dry food
and water.
In the afternoons, Paco took to apres-ski life with his customary aplomb. He
accompanied us to (but not in) the Mountain Road Resort's outdoor
whirlpool, joined us for cheese and crackers in the lobby, and settled with
me on the couch in our room, snoring with his head on my lap while I read.
He also became well known, and played with by neighbors in an adjacent room
from the U.K. "He's a fine dog," they declared.
One night, on a local's recommendation, we headed for Gracie's Restaurant.
The walls of the cozy eatery are filled with photos and sketches of dogs.
Above our booth, a poem shared a "dream for a leash free world."
While we devoured dog house salad, shrimp stuffed with scallops, and cashew
crusted salmon, Archie, the owner, told us about Gracie's story.
Gracie was a Yellow Lab and Airdale puppy who Archie and his wife
Sue brought home from a local pound eight years ago. Fourteen months
later, on Valentine's Day, Gracie and her brother George disappeared. They
were found only after the snow melted in April, shot.
Archie and Sue eventually brought home Kirby Pucket, a Golden Retriever and
Buddy, a Black Lab and built a swimming pond for them in the back yard.
At dessert, we couldn't decide between a frozen white-chocolate "Doggie
Bag" filled with chocolate mint mouse, or a "Doggie Bone, Brownie Sunday."
We ordered both.
Upon leaving, we visited Gracie's Gourmutt Shop above the restaurant with
dog-themed coasters, piggy banks, neck ties, aprons, tree ornaments, and
more.
Of course, the Gourmutt has offerings for four-legged customers. Archie
tells of a woman who knew she would have to put her dog down. For his last
meals, she prepared him fresh biscuits from Gracie's Dog Biscuit Mix.
Paco was happy that we returned from Gracie's with a canine bag with
salmon. By morning, when we reached the slopes, he knew the routine and
eagerly entered the gondola. This time we weren't alone.
Who knows what our three fellow passengers thought when they saw us crowd
into their car with a 55-pound dog. After uncomfortable silence through
mid-ride, a smile broke out on one woman's face: "Gee, I wish we brought
our dog," she confided to her husband.
It was a sunny day, and we enjoyed a few runs on Perry Merril. Since we
only took Paco on the enclosed lift, Stowe's famed "Front Four" were
inaccessible. Paco could only gaze up and imagine experiencing their
double-diamond descents.
That afternoon, as we headed down Mountain Road for home, we stopped at the
Gourmutt Shop for a final treat: biscuits for Paco and Blonde Brownie Bones
for us—and Paco. Departing full of joy, we promised Paco we would
return soon and try night skiing.
On the last Friday in January, though, Paco joined Gracie somewhere in
doggie heaven. I brought him to a school field for an evening run. We
unexpectedly encountered deer and he took off in pursuit. On returning, he
crossed the road in front of a speeding car driven by a college student. He never knew what hit him. The next morning, we buried him under an evergreen tree in
our yard, by his favorite stream.
Today, hanging on the wall above my desk is a photo of the three of us
skiing together at Stowe. Paco is beaming, wearing his bandanna. Next to
the photo is a note card we purchased at Gracie's with the inscription:
"May I always be the kind of person my dog thinks I am."
