I don’t get to travel out of the city as often as many. I’m not among the fortunates who have a house somewhere in the country or at the beach, but I am lucky enough to get invited out by such people from time to time. I fondly think of them as “friends with places.”
Since I got Smokey, such outings are a little trickier, since I don’t like to go many places without him unless I really have to. But I do have “friends with places” who are either dog-friendly or have dogs themselves. This weekend, my host was a little bit of both.
My friend Brian had a beautiful black Labrador mix named Jack, one of those really good dogs in the neighborhood I had long coveted until I got my own puppy last year. After a tedious up-and-down battle with a form of cancer, Jack had to be put to sleep only a few short weeks ago at the age of 13. When I got the news, I hurried home, held Smokey tight and cried, promising to make everyday with him count. (The profound sadness of losing a dog is something I think only “dog people” can understand. And even then, one can really only imagine, since the experience is unique for everyone.)
Brian had invited Smokey and I to his house when Jack was still alive. When Jack died, Brian insisted that he still wanted to keep the date for Smokey and I to come visit. So we kept the date for the trip, which was this past weekend.
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Brian drove us up yesterday morning. Once you get into the Catskill Mountains, the drive is spectacular. The little towns are like Norman Rockwell paintings. Quaint, charming, beautiful and ostensibly unspoiled by corporate invaders like Starbucks. There is a CVS in Woodstock, but apparently the sign and the storefront must thankfully meet certain aesthetic standards by not disrupting the existing look and feel of the rest of the town.
Car travel with Smokey is pretty easy. He just wants to sit on my lap and look out the window or sleep. If he’s not on my lap, he likes to hang out on the floor at my feet.
Tucked deep in the woods of the mountains, Brian’s house is the quintessence of country charm. It is a cottage in the truest sense of the word. With personal accents reflective of Brian’s handsome, smart taste and authentic country touches down to the fixtures, his weekend escape is a cottage in the truest sense of the word, complete with a pool, jacuzzi and a spacious fenced-in yard where Smokey ran like a bandit for hours.
One of my favorite parts of the weekend – which may surprise many who know me – was that there was no cell service (no surprise, since I have AT&T). I love my iPhone, my blog, my Twitter, my Facebook, et al, but it was lovely 2 days of tech-free relief.
Since my service-free phone was essentially transformed into an Airplane-Mode iPod, we did have music (Dave Brubeck, Chet Baker, Miles Davis… perfect for a summer evening in the Catskills). Other than that, we had great conversation, cool swims in the pool, delicious food and coffee and, of course, the seemingly endless energy of Smokey, who ran… followed… chewed sticks… chased nothing… barked at silence… and blissfully rolled in the grass.
I can’t say for sure, but I imagine it might have been bittersweet for Brian at times over the weekend, a weekend that was originally intended to be shared among two friends and two dogs. I know he misses Jack very much. He could not have been more terrific with Smokey, and Smokey absolutely loved him back. Perhaps having a sprite little puppy following him around the yard and licking his face whenever he got the chance was good for him. Again, I can’t say for sure. But I hope it was.
Back in the city, I sit exhausted. Under less than ideal circumstances, Brian graciously and generously opened the doors to his amazing country house to me and Smokey. Because of his grace, I am humbled and grateful for another one of life’s wonderful experiences.
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