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F6 EZ EE THE WASHINGTON POST . SUNDAY, MAY 1 , 2016
BY MELANIE D.G. KAPLAN
My beagle Darwin was no stranger tocross-country drives and adventures.During her decade of life, she and I drovefrom East to West and back multipletimes. But one promise went unfulfilled.It was during her final days in 2011 thatwe sat on the couch and I realized we’dnever made it to the big beagle.
For years, friends had urged me to visitDog Bark Park Inn, a whimsical beagle-shaped bed and breakfast. Given myadoration of beagles and appetite forroad trips, the suggestion was under-standable. The only catch: Dog Bark Parkis located nearly in the middle of no-where — in Cottonwood, Idaho, nestledbetween a couple of national forests inthe western part of the state.
Years passed, and I forgot about thegiant beagle. But last year, when I beganplanning a road trip to the Pacific North-west with my former laboratory beagleHamilton, I realized our route wouldtake us by Cottonwood. Having missedthe opportunity with Darwin and notknowing when I’d find myself in Idahoagain, I booked a room in the huge houndfor early September.
The town of Cottonwood, population900, is roughly equidistant from Yellow-stone and Glacier national parks, 41/2
hours from Boise. Right off the highway,the tricolored piece of functional artknown as Sweet Willy stands high abovehoney-colored fields and looks out to theprairie.
Artists Frances Conklin and DennisSullivan built the 30-foot beagle in 2003.Dennis is a chain-saw artist whose bigbreak came two decades ago when QVCsold his canine carvings for 18 months. Inthe first 45 seconds, he sold 1,500 beagles.He’d imagined using his profits to buy anorange Corvette and a new Ford pickup,but after looking at both, as he tells thestory, he instead opted to marry Francesand buy the land on which their inn nowsits.
I’d scheduled my stay in the beagle forthe end of my road trip. Earlier in myjourney, while visiting pals in McCall,Idaho, I’d become fast friends with awoman named Heidi. I invited her andher 2- and 4-year-old girls to join Hammyand me in the beagle.
We arrived on a weekday afternoonand registered in a small, kitschy giftshop that doubles as a carving studio.While Frances processed our paperwork,Dennis walked out of his shop andwelcomed us. He and Frances weredressed in clothes a retired couple mightwear for cleaning the house. They smiledeasily and radiated warmth and kind-ness. The front door was propped open,and a dry breeze entered. The smell ofpine filled each breath.
Painted wooden dogs — beagles as wellas dozens of other breeds and the occa-sional moose — lined the shelves. I metthe couple’s dog, Sprocket, and wassurprised he was a golden retriever, not ahound.
“Why beagles?” I asked, after Francesgave us our room key.
“The beagle is the most beautifulartistically,” Dennis said. “If I did a black
Lab, it would just be a black dog.”Heidi, her girls, my own aesthetically
pleasing dog and I walked across theproperty to the beagle and ascended nearthe hind leg. Steps led us to a balcony inthe rib cage area, where we opened adoor into what in many ways looked likea typical mid-priced motel room. Wefound the usual amenities — microwave,hair dryer, etc. — but we couldn’t forgetfor a moment that we were inside a dog.
As if we’d fallen into a toy chest, we allpoked around the room, discoveringnooks filled with books, games andsnacks. A wooden ladder led us up to thebeagle’s snout, er, loft, where the kidsfound stuffed animals and a beagle bookthat opened up to the size of a card table.On the shelves and in an old suitcasewere dog playing cards, puzzles andLewis and Clark bingo. Dog-patternedcurtains covered the windows, andwooden canines decorated the head-board.
I read the welcome letter, ostensiblyfrom Willy: “If you hear muffled thumpsagainst my walls it is my ears lifting up inthe wind as a signal to you I am awakeand on guard outside while you relax orsleep inside.” Dennis had told me that in60-mile-an-hour winds, the ears — madefrom enough outdoor carpet to cover afew rooms — whip ferociously. The bea-gle body was made from lumber andwrapped in metal lath, a bendable mesh,over which stucco was applied.
For dinner, we walked to Rodonna’sCountry Haus, a meat-and-potatoes jointthat’s one of just a few restaurants intown. We ordered food to go and pic-nicked underneath the beagle torso. Be-tween bites of their burger, the girls ranaround the grounds and explored otheroversize chain-saw art sculptures (coffee-pot, toaster oven, fire hydrant) whileHammy begged for tater tots.
In the beagle, Heidi made microwavepopcorn for the girls, and we all sat onthe bed with books. I flipped through“Barkitecture,” a book of fantastic dog-houses; and the “Carnegie Mellon An-thology of Poetry.” Heidi read the girls“The Puppy Who Needed a Friend,” asmall paperback with a gloomy, floppy-
eared hound on its cover. Later, as thegirls dozed in the loft, Heidi and I stayedin the belly, talking about life and traveland love.
Early the next morning, I went for arun through a ghostly quiet town, past anAmerican Legion post, the CottonwoodElevator Co. (think grain, not verticaltransport), a body shop and a restaurant
advertising “basket food.”Back at the inn, the fiery sun had risen,
and we set up breakfast on the balcony:cantaloupe, grapes, homemade granola,eggs and canned fruit juices. Handwrit-ten notes labeled local cucumbers, Idahorhubarb raisin muffins, and cranberryand Idaho pear coffeecake.
Long before we were ready, checkouttime neared. We packed our cars andgreeted Dennis and Frances in the shop.
The girls plopped down on the floorwith wooden dog puzzles, and Dennisinvited me to see his studio, a jumbledspace with a wooden “Puppy Mill” signhanging from the ceiling and unpaintedwooden dogs — and sawdust — coveringevery horizontal surface.
As is often the case with travelers anddreamers, the four of us talked easily, andthe conversation quickly turned to thecouple’s history. When they met at an artfair in 1990, each was married withchildren. Dennis asked Frances shortlyafter whether she had any room in herheart for him. Thus began a five-yearcourtship through snail mail, and thetwo eventually left their spouses andmarried in 1996. Frances, an Englishmajor, dabbles in poetry. As we talked,she kneeled on the floor to help the girlswith their puzzles.
Dennis talked to Heidi and me aboutfollowing your heart and knowing whenyou’re on the right path. Frances talkedabout solitude and time to let ideas flow,as she experienced when she worked as afire watch in Montana. Both used “love”and “magic” repeatedly to describe theirjourney — and that of the Dog Bark Park.In all my travels, people surprise me inwonderful ways, but perhaps I was mostsurprised here. I drank up the couple’swords like those of a muse. When I caughtHeidi’s eye, we shared a knowing look.
Remembering the 450-mile driveahead of me that day, I wrapped up ourconversation. Frances gently pressed abeagle stamp onto the back of the girls’hands. I asked for my own stamp andthen blew the ink dry. We all huggedgoodbye.
“Travel well,” Dennis said. “And livewell.”
He and Frances stood in the door,waving. As Heidi and I hugged, tearsunexpectedly filled my eyes. Drivingaway, I looked at the big beagle in myrearview mirror and the beagle stamp onmy hand. Hammy slept in the back of thecar, oblivious to the thoughts swirlingthrough my head.
Just outside town, I stopped for gasand read Heidi’s text. “I’m kind of inshock and awe right now,” she wrote.“Thank you for sharing this time withus!!”
I texted back: “Me 2. That was so muchbigger than a big beagle.” I pulled out ofthe gas station and followed S-shapedroads along the Clearwater River, insilence, under cornflower-colored skies.
travel@washpost.com
Kaplan is a freelance writer in Washington.Her website is melaniedgkaplan.com.
This IdahoB&B offersmore thanjust creaturecomforts
If you goWHERE TO STAYDog Bark Park Inn
2421 Business Loop, Hwy. 95
Cottonwood, Idaho
208-962-3647
dogbarkparkinn.com
Season runs April 1-Oct. 31. The inn consistsof one room with a kitchenette and loft, andcan sleep up to four. The giant beagle fillsup quickly, so book early. Double occupancy$98 plus tax, including continentalbreakfast and WiFi. Pet fee is $15.
— M.K.
MELANIE D.G. KAPLAN FOR THE WASHINGTON POST
TOP: Nicknamed Sweet Willy, theDog Bark Park Inn was built in 2003by two artists in northwest Idaho.A smaller wooden dog, Toby, wasbuilt next to it. ABOVE: The author’sdog lounges in Sweet Willy’s snout.
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