All Dogs Go to Heaven — And I Think It Looks Like This

Ally Mentlik
Jul 21
4 min read

Have you ever heard of Dog Mountain? It’s in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, and it’s been on my bucket list for years.

One of many beautiful views at Dog Mountain.

Back in 2019, when Darla was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma, I knew I wanted to go. I’d seen photos of the chapel on Instagram — walls covered in letters to dogs, their sweet faces lovingly taped up beside them. I knew she could run off-leash there, swim, make dog friends. It felt like the perfect place for her.

But her cancer progressed quickly. And even though it was at the top of our bucket list, we never made it before she passed — just three weeks after her diagnosis.

I’m not sure if you know, but my little Emma was diagnosed with cancer too. Two years ago now. She has transitional cell carcinoma. It’s slow-growing, and she’s still receiving treatment, but we recently got the news that it’s started to progress again after holding steady for nearly 18 months.

One of the first things I thought of — after I sobbed — was Dog Mountain.

Emma doesn’t know she’s sick. She lives her best life every day. And while she’s still doing this well, I wanted to take her on a road trip.

So we packed up the car and headed out last Friday. We stayed at the adorable Lyndon Motor Lodge, which has dog-friendly rooms and affordable rates. I packed her bed, her snacks, her harness — she’s an easy traveler — and we hit the road.

Saturday was our day! We woke up, ate something delicious, and headed out. And when I tell you the tears were instant the second we pulled in… I mean instant.

The day was perfection: 70s, sunny, that clean Vermont air. A breeze, a bright blue sky. And there were dogs — running, swimming, playing, off-leash and free. It was heaven. Or at least, what I hope, with everything in me, heaven looks like for dogs.

I cried in the car. And then I pulled it together. For Emma.

She doesn’t know why her mom cries. But she was ready to get out of that car!

We checked out the pond. We wandered through the fields. We met other dogs. She rolled and rolled in the soft grass. We stopped by the gallery, picked out an adorable mug and a sign that now lives in our dining room window facing the street. I like to think that the neighborhood dogs see it and their parents tell them what it says.

And then we went to the chapel.

I knew it would be emotional. But I didn’t quite realize how much it would hit me — as an empath, an animal lover, a mom of a dog with cancer.

I sobbed.

I read as many letters as I could — handwritten messages from people to their dogs. And I just kept thinking one thing over and over:

My God, dogs are SO loved.

They are everything to us. They’re with us through life changes, through illness, through death and divorce and babies and moves. They’re our source of comfort, our stability, our joy. They give us so much.

To see the amount of love covering those chapel walls — it’s something I’ll never forget.

Julian (brindle), my 4 all together (Darla, Emma, Julian, Sophie), and Sophie (b&w) on the bottom.

Emma and I put up pictures of her siblings who have passed: Darla, Julian, and Sophie. She greeted people as they came in. There were knowing glances between strangers — it’s okay to cry here. It’s also magical here. It’s honest and full of spirit. We just really, really love our dogs.

We finished the day with a hike through the trails, and Emma just had the best time.

I took a million photos and videos. I tried to soak it all in — the sunshine, the breeze, the pure joy on every dog’s face. I’m hopeful for more time with Emma. But as we all know, with our animals, no amount of time will ever be enough.

I’m just so grateful that a place like this exists. And that we got to go.

If you’re on the East Coast and up for a road trip with your pup, Dog Mountain is absolutely worth it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of place.

All dogs go to heaven.

And I know it looks just like this.