It Was Never Just the Dogs
- Jill Stoodley
- Mar 15
- 22 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Kim was scrolling through social media and something caught her eye. She'd never seen anything like it before. When she asked her husband to join her for the unusual weekend getaway, his response was an immediate, resounding … No.
It even became a bit of a running joke with the couple. Bob had teased her, “Are you kidding me? I’m gonna go to some old place with a bunch of crazy ladies and their dogs?”
She recalls, "He was like, 'Honey, I'll write the check for you to go ... but no.'" While Bob was usually on board with her adventures — he'd even flown her to Napa Valley's Michelin-star landmark, French Laundry — he laughingly drew the line with the dogs.
But three years later, Bob passed away unexpectedly, and Kim found herself making her way through loss and grief as a new widow. She wanted to open herself up to new experiences, to change things up. When her friends asked her what she wanted to do to make this Christmas different, Kim said she'd always wanted to go to The Wilburton’s Canine Holiday Party Weekend. So she signed up and headed to Vermont with her Cavalier (Allie) and her friend Theresa.
Kim ended up having the time of her life.
And so did I.
Puppies, Puppies & More Puppies!
The minute my husband and I stepped into The Wilburton foyer, we were surrounded by the warm glow of holiday lights, evergreen garlands with pinecones and golden ornaments, festive plaid tablecloths ...
And puppies.
Contagiously friendly puppies — pouring into the hallway three at a time — in red and green bedazzled holiday sweaters, their leashes tangled around our feet and each other as they yipped in giddy, palpable joy, so happy to meet us. From the second we walked in the door, I couldn’t contain myself. It was like floating on a cloud of cotton candy. Part of me thoroughly expected Santa's sleigh and nine magical reindeer to descend the mansion's massive mahogany staircase every time I heard their tiny little puppy jingle bells.
When I was invited to stay at The Wilburton Inn for their real-life Hallmark Christmas Movie Doggie Weekend this December, my initial thoughts were somewhat hesitant, maybe even a little similar to Bob’s. We’re not dog owners. My husband’s a bit of an introvert, and 50 people with 30 dogs for three days sounded a little intimidating.
I knew we’d have fun. But I had no idea what was in store.
Set in the magnificent snowscape of Vermont's Equinox mountains, The Wilburton Inn in December was a sight to behold. The great room of the sprawling, turn-of-the-century 1902 mansion was decked out from top to bottom, shiny holiday trinkets in every corner, an elegant tree with soft white lights and long crimson ribbons.
The three-day schedule was jam-packed with events to get to know each other. I'd imagined awkward small talk and surface acquaintances.
But that weekend I made lifelong connections. And I heard stories I'll never forget.
Powerful recollections of love, loss, grief, and devotion. All served up in the happiest holiday cocktail of a Hallmark movie/Gilmore Girls episode come to life.
Whatever I’d been expecting, it was nothing like this.
From the laughter shared in the great room gatherings to deeply personal accounts entrusted to me in quieter moments, it quickly became clear that every little dog and their family carried a story — sometimes joyful, sometimes heartbreaking, and often both.
Their memories were so beautiful I couldn't just leave them behind to linger in the halls of The Wilburton. They deserved to be shared.
Elsie, Malcolm & Denise
with Bentley
Though you'd never know it, Elsie and Malcolm have been through the wringer.
This December, Elsie was looking for some time away, a different atmosphere — to immerse herself in a holiday movie, even just for a moment. The Wilburton weekend seemed like the perfect fit, and they could even bring their newly adopted Aussiedoodle, Bentley.
The irresistible one-and-a-half-year-old Bentley was the first puppy my husband and I met as we walked up the front steps that Friday night. Bentley was the embodiment of pure, exuberant joy and boundless energy. I was immediately head over heels.
When we first met Elsie, she was laughing, holding onto Bentley's leash with both hands, almost in disbelief at her puppy's enthusiastic greeting. She was friendly and a bit shy, which put me immediately at ease. The trio was joined by their dear friend Denise who helped with the drive from New Hampshire to Vermont. Like Elsie, Denise was just our speed. A quietly sarcastic night owl with a dry sense of humor just like my husband’s — he and Denise got along instantly. We all did.
The five of us chatted a little the first night, at breakfast the next morning, and then again on an excursion into historic Manchester with all the dogs, guided by innkeeper Melissa Levis. At the time, I didn't know how close we'd all become.
And I had no idea how miraculous it was that Malcolm and Elsie were outside on that beautiful sunshiny Saturday walking together, hand in hand.
Seventeen years ago, their German Shepherds saved Malcolm's life.
It was Christmas Eve. Like any normal evening, he had hugged Elsie goodnight before he went off to bed. But around 2:30 a.m., Soldier and Star started barking incessantly. At first, Elsie thought there was an intruder, but when the dogs refused to leave Malcolm's bedside to follow her into the kitchen, she realized something was off.
Malcolm suffered a massive cardiac event. Every second counted. If the dogs hadn't kept barking, she might not have realized until morning. Elsie performed CPR until the paramedics arrived — but by then, Malcolm had been without oxygen for 20 agonizing minutes, far beyond the standard three to six minutes a person can survive without irreversible brain damage. He slipped into a coma for eight days.
The doctors had given up hope and tried to convince Elsie it was time to let Malcolm go. However, one final test from a neurologist showed much more brain activity than expected, and right before the medical team was about to turn off the machines, Elsie and the neurologist fought like hell to keep him alive.
It was an excruciatingly slow road, learning how to walk and talk and do basic everyday tasks again. "He didn't know who I was," she said, "He had to learn all over again. He didn't even remember how to make a sandwich." For two heartbreaking years, Malcolm had no memory of Elsie, his daughter, Victoria, or their life together. But Elsie refused to send him to a nursing home or leave his side. Each fighting through their own devastation, Elsie worked with Malcolm day in and day out, playing cards and reading newspapers aloud to help with his recovery.
As she shared their story, it was impossible not to feel the weight of their devotion.
Little by little he came back to her, something the doctors never thought possible. Their lives, of course, have been dramatically altered, now drastically slower than the active newspaper press team they used to be.
But they have each other.
And he remembers.
Malcolm still has some cognitive and physical challenges, as well as a rare heart condition they discovered a few years later. And Elsie, who's known as the family caregiver, also spent many years opening her home to her father, mother, and brother before they each passed away.
While she wouldn't change a thing about their 23-year marriage or the love she provided her family, these things inevitably take a toll, and the dreams they once had for their lives took a backseat. "When he realized who I was, and who he was, I wanted a 10th anniversary party. I wanted to put my wedding dress on again," she said. But her mother passed away just a few weeks shy of 95 and the anniversary celebration didn't move forward.
Though it came many years later, the weekend trip to The Wilburton was a surprisingly restorative moment. The little getaway was such a welcome break, a short escape to refresh and rebuild, and Elsie was thrilled to have found the event.
Struggling to find the right words to describe the experience, she says, "There was such a togetherness. It was so inspiring."
Their group unexpectedly formed a connection with fellow guests, Keri, Brett, and their 14-year-old daughter, and they plan to stay in touch beyond the weekend trip. Elsie recalls, "To go into town for the parade and see people from the inn there ... seeing Keri and her daughter across the street and grabbing a hot chocolate. It was like back in the day — running into your neighbors, when everybody knew each other."
But it wasn't just the new relationships that stood out over the course of the three days. As the weekend unfolded, I was so touched by the friendship between Malcolm, Elsie, and Denise. As close as sisters, Denise and Elsie have supported each other for decades, helping each other with medical appointments, enjoying trips, sharing long drives. Denise, a retired nurse of 30 years, is no stranger to life-altering medical issues herself, and the women have advocated for each other and Malcolm through thick and thin.
At one point during the walk around town, Malcolm’s lips looked a little blue and he started leaning to the side. Watching them jump into action to care for him and each other throughout the trip was such an incredible testament of true vulnerability, endurance, and genuine friendship.
Isabelle
with Patapouf & Pilli
Thirteen-year-old Patapouf (aka, PD) meant the world to Isabelle's mother. After her father passed away and her mother developed dementia, Isabelle promised to care for him.
When her mother passed away shortly after, Isabelle brought Patapouf from her parents' house in France to her home in New York.
"He is my everything," she says, "I don't have any more family." With no brothers, sisters, or close living relatives, Isabelle's only connection to her loved ones is Patapouf. "He was always such a big part of my family," she says. Adopting him was second nature.
On a few occasions, Isabelle's had close calls with Patapouf that could have been devastating. Shortly after they arrived in New York, Isabelle left Patapouf in the apartment with her friend while she went to dinner at a cafe around the corner. To her shock, when she returned, there was a sign on her front door saying someone had found a Yorkshire Terrier outside in the street! Somehow, he'd managed to sneak out as she was closing the door to leave for the cafe. Miraculously, he made it across the busy New York City avenue and was found by strangers.
Isabelle believes her mother was looking out for him that day, and again recently, when Patapouf was diagnosed with a cancerous growth on his spleen. There was no way Isabelle was going to lose her only tie to her mother, her most precious thing. She opted for the expensive surgery and thankfully Patapouf was well enough to go on New York adventures and travel to The Wilburton this December. **
Egizio was Isabelle's "brother from another mother." The Italian-born New York City art dealer introduced Isabelle to Wilburton innkeeper Melissa Levis, and the three became inseparable. When he passed away unexpectedly in 2024, after more than 20 years of friendship with Isabelle and Melissa, there was no question in Isabelle's mind she would care for Egizio's dog, Pilli, the same way she's cared for her parents' beloved Patapouf.
Pilli and Isabelle have been through far more than their fair share of heartache, which has deeply bonded them together. When Egizio wasn't answering Isabelle's calls, she went to his apartment to check on him. She could hear Pilli's yaps and cries from inside his apartment, and she knew something was terribly wrong.
Poor Pilli was alone with Egizio when he passed away. As a result, she's extremely distressed any time she's alone, and she never, ever leaves Isabelle's side — traveling with her everywhere, in taxis, to cafes, museums, on trips — a little bundle in her pocket.
Isabelle fondly calls Pilli her little drama queen — partially because the tiny three-year-old Mi-Ki cries every time she's on her own, and partially because she has much more energy than the older Patapouf and often runs circles around him. To her relief, Pilli and Patapouf have always gotten along very well. Through it all, she says, "Pilli has brought so much joy to our lives — the insouciance of the young! She has so much of Egizio's character."
I first saw Isabelle tucked in the corner of The Wilburton's couch, Pilli curled up and passed out on the pillows near her, and Patapouf practically melted into the ground by her feet in sheer exhaustion. Isabelle and I didn't speak at first, just glanced at each other and smiled. I'm pretty sure I squealed out loud at the sight of the three of them together. So tiny, so peaceful despite the chaos of a room full of 50 chattering guests.
As we were leaving that evening, I got a more formal introduction to the French New Yorker and her two little ones. And I was lucky enough to hold their leashes in the foyer and "babysit" for a few minutes while Isabelle got her things together. I was in seventh heaven.
Keri, Brett & Finley
with Poppy & Indigo
Blue was Poppy's best friend in the world. The two dogs were inseparable. He was her protector.
When Blue passed away a few years ago, poor Poppy was utterly inconsolable — she developed an ulcer and sank into a deep depression.
To help with Poppy's grief, her family went to the Havanese breeder and found Indigo (Indie) — her biological sister, five years apart, from their mother Lily's last litter. Indie adores her big sister Poppy. And while Poppy mostly tolerates her energetic younger sibling, having another friend around was a pivotal part in helping her overcome the loss of her best friend.
The Wilburton was just a few-hour drive from Burke Vermont for Keri, Brett, and their 14-year-old daughter, Finley. Getting to know the three of them was an absolute pleasure — and it made us miss our own daughter, Allie (18), even more. This was our very first trip without her, so meeting the sweet family of three took on a little extra meaning for us. We sat next to them on the couch the first night at the welcome party, while they shared their story with the crowd.
It all began nearly 20 years ago with their first dog, Blue.
The first time Keri saw Blue, she exclaimed, "This is the cutest dog I've ever seen in my life ... what is it?" She'd never even heard of the Havanese breed before Brett brought the St. Louis rescue dog home from the LaGuardia Airport. "It was Valentine's Day," she recalls, "...best present ever."
Their love for Blue grew into a life-long love for the adorable hypoallergenic breed, eventually adding Poppy, and later Indigo, to their family.
I didn't grow up with dogs (though I'd always wanted one). While I never questioned that they're capable of love, I don't think I fully understood how deeply, how strongly they feel it. Some part of me didn't register their holding each other close is so much more than a basic instinct to stay warm. It's a decided effort to love, comfort, embrace. Hearing Poppy and Blue's story and seeing their picture absolutely broke my heart, in the sweetest possible way.
Bonnie
with Teva
Back in 2008, Bonnie's daughter found a stray kitten wandering around her college neighborhood. The little ginger cat with no tags and no name was so alone and starving she was eating twigs to survive. While the family never had a cat before (only dogs), she was just so sweet they couldn't resist bringing her home. On that first day, the vet had written "Kitty" as her name in the chart, and the nickname stuck. They brought Kitty home to meet their poodle, Chandler, and the two were best friends for more than a decade. Years later in 2021, after Chandler passed away, along came Teva, and she became Kitty's family too.
After recently making the courageous solo move all the way from Atlanta to Saratoga Springs, New York, Bonnie was feeling a bit lonely and looking for some fun. Her friend Linda from garden club was planning to attend The Wilburton event that coming weekend with her husband and she suggested Bonnie join them. In a moment of spontaneity, only a few days before the event, Bonnie snagged the last spot.
It was there, in the great room's afternoon Christmas party event, I learned Bonnie and Teva's beautiful, bittersweet story.
In April 2025, poor Kitty became ill. While Bonnie knew she was getting older, the suddenness of it all came as a shock. She took Kitty to the emergency room on a Monday and by Thursday she learned Kitty needed to be put down. Bonnie felt so sorry for her. "I felt like I dragged her all the way up to New York, 1,000 miles from Atlanta. She was so great; she handled it all so well. And now all this was happening."
Bonnie wanted Teva to be able to say goodbye to Kitty. "I don't know how much animals understand," she said. "She'd see me leave with the cat and come home with no cat. I just didn't want her to think I'd leave without her, especially with the move from Atlanta. There was no way to explain it to her."
Bonnie asked the vet if it would be possible for her to take Kitty out to the car to see Teva one last time. She brought Kitty to the car and got in the back seat with the two animals, the IV still in Kitty's leg. Bonnie let Teva smell her and say goodbye.
"On the off chance it provides some sort of closure for her, it made me feel better," she said. "Teva was so gentle with Kitty — they were really sweet. People often say animals sense sickness, so maybe she knew."
At first, the vet didn't understand why Bonnie wanted Teva to see Kitty — in fact, she'd looked at Bonnie like she was crazy. But Bonnie figured even if the whole idea of closure for Teva was in her head, it didn't hurt to be kind and put forth the extra effort.
Bonnie remembered when her sister visited this summer, Teva barreled across the airport luggage terminal to greet her, totally unable to contain herself — after not having seen her for over a year. Clearly, she has the capacity to remember and love far beyond days and months.
And to this day, Annie, Teva's doggie friend from her old neighborhood in Atlanta still looks for Teva whenever she walks by their old house. These memories were what drove Bonnie to find a way to give the animals a chance to say goodbye. And after seeing them in the car that day, she knew she was right. She also plans to go back to her hometown soon, to show Teva that Atlanta still exists.
At the end of the day, when Bonnie showed the vet the pictures of the two friends saying goodbye, the vet apologized and admitted she hadn't fully understood. But after seeing the pictures, it was clear what a beautiful bond they shared.
By that point in the weekend, as I listened to everyone's stories, it felt like every dog in the room carried a piece of someone's life story and vice versa. Despite grief, their stories didn't end with loss, but instead with thoughtfulness, resilience, devotion, and a dedication to move forward together.
Laura & Kenny
with Atticus, Bailey & Dolly
Atticus' favorite part of the trip to The Wilburton was looking out at the mountains. In need of a wheelchair since birth and slightly reactive to people and other dogs, the English Bulldog skipped the social activities at the inn. But he still had a blast that weekend. The whole family did.
Laura and Kenny attended The Wilburton event for the second year, this time with Atticus, Bailey, and Dolly in tow. Special education teachers from Rhode Island, the couple has dedicated their lives not only to their students but also to caring for animals with special needs, adopting their three dogs (and many more) from various rescues over the years.
The family came dressed to the nines, perfectly styled in spectacular Nutcracker, Christmas tree, and Grinch themes.
But that first night at the welcome party, Laura was a bit on edge.
Bailey, an attention-loving English Bulldog (one of the few larger dogs in the group) was so excited he couldn't control his high-pitched squeals and happy whines. And Dolly, who suffers from anxiety, was overwhelmed by the crowd. All evening Laura attentively scanned the room, giving the dogs the space they needed but a little uneasy about inconveniencing anyone. Despite being pulled in all directions by an excited Bailey, there was such a sweetness and patience in the way she cared for him and the way he trusted her.
Watching Laura as she came over to a group of us, quietly apologizing for the noise and chaos, I felt an immediate maternal urge to hug her, to reassure her she wasn't on display, that no one was judging the noise (which honestly wasn't even an issue) or the size of the dogs. She could breathe and relax with all of us. As parents, we'd definitely been there — the subtle tension of not knowing how others will react to a child who is a little more animated, a kiddo who stands out in a crowd. But Dolly and Bailey's beautiful energy and spirit were such a welcome addition to the group.
Over the years, the three rescue dogs have been through so much. And it was clear in every interaction how much Kenny and Laura love them.
Adopted from Opie's Special-Needs English Bulldog Rescue, Bailey made it through multiple surgeries — including eye repairs, a tail amputation, and two procedures for a cleft palate. They were all successful, and now he's doing really well.
Silly, energetic, and very vocal with happy screams, Bailey was an absolute sweetheart who couldn't get enough of the special doggie-safe brownies at The Wilburton pajama party — he literally leapt in the air for them when I helped Laura give him a second helping.
Though physically healthy, Dolly is anxious and skittish around new people. The gentle black and white pitbull was a stray the couple adopted from WAGS of Monroe County in Mississippi.
Kenny and Laura carefully introduced her to the crowd at The Wilburton, encouraging guests to say hello from a distance at first, slowly letting her adjust. By the end of the weekend, she had a blast, just like her brothers.
Laura and Kenny were the only ones who applied for Atticus at the Little Red Dog Rescue Center in California, and the couple traveled all the way to Pennsylvania to meet his foster mother the day they took him home.
While three-year-old Atticus missed the indoor parties (and we regretfully didn't get to meet him), he still got to enjoy dressing up in fabulous costumes with his family and had tons of fun playing outside in the snow with his brother and sister. "He loved being there at The Wilburton!" says Laura. It was a trip they'll always remember, and they plan to return again next year.
As the weekend progressed, it was so nice to see Laura breathe easier as the celebrations continued and the family settled in. It was such a pleasure to sit and chat with her and Kenny about their weekend exploring The Wilburton properties.
The newlyweds also told us about their beautiful December wedding three years ago. Bailey and their two other beloved dogs, Felix and Baxter (who've since passed away), were included in the wedding party — it meant the world to Kenny and Laura that they were able to share the day.
We also learned that Laura is a passionate vegan activist and non-profit owner with an impressive Instagram following. She's the author of Elvis and the Box, a children's book about a dog who uses a wheelchair — when he's unexpectedly reminded of painful events from his past, love and friendship help save the day.
Their late dog Elvis was the inspiration for the story, which was lovingly dedicated to Elvis, Baxter, Felix, Bailey, and Mamma Belle, who was blind and adopted from Egypt.
For the couple, it's not just words. As special education teachers and animal activists, they live and breathe kindness, friendship, and acceptance every day — their open home and open arms have changed countless lives. And their ever-expanding family spreads immeasurable joy through second chances.
Melissa & Monty
with Jetson
When Melissa's son was little, he used to beg her for two things.
As fellow single-child parents, my husband and I knew exactly what Melissa was going to say before she laughingly told the crowd at the welcome party that night.
He would say, "Why do you hate me so much that I can't have a brother?"
Quickly followed by, "Well, if I can't have a brother, why can't I have a dog?"
Melissa, of course, reassured him how much she loved him. But she simply wasn't able to give him what he was asking for — the difficult answer to both questions being that his father didn't want either of those things. Instead, she helped him look to the future. "I told him, 'Here's a dog encyclopedia ... you just read this. When you're grown up you can choose what type of doggie you want, and you'll already know.'"
But that time came sooner than expected.
Six months after a difficult divorce, Melissa knew she could now give 10-year-old Monty the dog of his dreams. She told him, "Ok, honey, now ... you get your dog."
And when she asked which type of dog he wanted, he knew without hesitation — a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Blenheim.
Along came Jetson. And the rest is history.
"Who would have guessed how this dog changed my only child's life? And he changed my life," she told the group.
Despite having been warned by her ex-husband that dogs would be too much work and she wasn't responsible enough to care for one, Melissa soon learned she absolutely had it in her, and so did Monty. Not only did taking care of Jetson allow Monty to fill new roles as both sibling and caretaker, adopting the dog helped set the tone, the inspiration for what Melissa has coined her mid-life renaissance.
Shortly before adopting Jetson, Monty told Melissa he wanted to spend more time at The Wilburton with their family in Vermont. The suggestion made the award-winning children's entertainer stop in her tracks.
Monty didn't know this, but Melissa had just attended a women's empowerment retreat in the Berkshires which encouraged her to spontaneously shout to the world her deepest desire while jumping off the stage. No thought, no prep, just jump. For two decades, New York had been the fiber of her being, so it came as a total shock that as she leapt, she found herself yelling that she wished to go back home.
Melissa never thought Monty would want to leave his friends or school, and she hadn't imagined she'd want to part with her New York apartment or her iconic performances singing to thousands of children in Central Park, but their wishes aligned at the most serendipitous moment. It changed her whole life's purpose, and they moved back to Vermont to help run the family inn with her parents, three siblings, and their families.
Monty is now 22, and Jetson has been the light of their lives for over a decade.
Named in loving tribute for Melissa's late mother Georgette, The Wilburton's unforgettable matriarch who passed away shortly after she returned to the inn, the famous "canine concierge" is known for stealing hearts as he greets guests on the mansion porch. He absolutely stole mine when I sat and played with him in the foyer as the guests were leaving the welcome party Friday evening.
Jetson has been featured on Animal Planet, and it was among Melissa's proudest moments to bring him to France with her, not once but twice. Though she's traveled all over the world, she laughed as she told the group, "There's no comparison to six weeks in Paris with your dog. Feeling the weight of him in my backpack as we were passing the Seine and Notre Dame — he was like a little Gargoyle sticking out."
While running the inn and its eight hilltop properties has been a family affair, the Canine Holiday Party was 100% marketing director Melissa's avant-garde inspiration.
And Jetson is the Cavalier who started it all.
With Jetson at the center, Melissa's vision came alive, a place where every story, every puppy, and every guest could connect.
Whether it's friends who've known the family for decades or new guests who joined the party for the first time — they all agree Melissa is a force of nature. And The Wilburton's one-of-a-kind allure circles back to the entire Levis family and their unique joie de vivre.
Back to Kim & Theresa
with Allie
A Jersey Girl through and through, Kim didn't know what to expect when she and Theresa arrived at The Wilburton for the weekend. Not a fan of roughing it outdoors, she hoped she wouldn't be stranded in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. But she was pleasantly surprised "it was a fairy tale place in a fairy tale town."
What struck her most was how joyful the entire experience was, how friendly and sweet people were, sharing their stories and enjoying each other. "At a time when there's so much going on in the world — when we're all so divided — it brings us all down to the most base, simple level. We all enjoy our dogs. And because of that simple commonality, we found other commonalities."
A small business owner and real estate professional herself, Kim credits innkeeper Melissa Levis and her family for the warm environment they've created. "They put it out there. It's all about what you bring to it as an owner, and people will rise to it."
In fact, everyone I spoke with that weekend was so impressed with how well guests of all ages and all different walks of life got along. The mood stayed light and festive, even when the stories went deeper.
At the Friday evening welcome party, Kim got up and shared her story — about her husband's passing and her friends' support when she'd told them she "really wanted to be in a room full of crazy ladies with my Cavalier." She was so endearing, funny, inspiring.
Visibly surprised by Kim's unexpected vulnerability, Melissa immediately stopped filming to hug her. For a few quiet moments the two women stepped away from the crowd and discussed how in times of grief they found joy ... how sometimes when you're the most raw, you're the most open. It was such a beautiful moment, immediately setting the tone for the entire weekend.
While her late husband had famously teased her about the inn, Kim knew things would have been different if he could have seen just how wonderful the weekend was.
She's sure he would have changed his mind.
"If he'd seen it the way I did. If he saw how much fun we had, I'm sure he'd have come back with me the next year."
Months after we left The Wilburton, with its playful puppies in holiday sweaters, its cozy fireplaces, and its rooms alive with shared moments, the stories still have a hold on me.
And so do the dogs.
Their joy and devotion, the way they draw people together.
Their remarkable capacity to carry the weight of the lives around them — to hold our histories and share in both our heartbreak and healing.
The weekend was never just about dogs.
And they are never just dogs.
Post-Production Update:
** Shortly after the production of this story, Isabelle's sweet Yorkshire Terrier, Patapouf, passed away on March 30th, 2026 — a loss I share with the deepest sadness. He was loved beyond measure and given such a beautiful life. Even in the very short time I've known them, their love for each other was unmistakable.
See for Yourself!
The Wilburton Inn
257 Wilburton Drive
Manchester Village, VT 05254
802-362-2500
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Jill Hodgson Stoodley
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