Celebrities Love This Montana Resort—But Its True VIP Guests Are Dogs
Michelin-star dining, spa treatments, and forest bathing are just a few amenities awaiting Paws Up’s canine guests.
Marbled to perfection and seared with surgical precision, the culinary masterpiece in front of me looks like what the late Michelangelo would have served if he’d been asked to make a steak instead of painting the Sistine Chapel. My fellow diners drop their forks to gawk at the 2.5-pound tomahawk, too. But no one is as mesmerized as my plus one. He knows Executive Chef Sunny Jin—a veteran of Michelin-star restaurants like El Bulli and French Laundry—prepared this beautiful bone-in ribeye just for him.
“Can I get anything else for you?” our waitress, sporting a starched bandana and well-worn cowboy hat, asks with a wink. We don’t have steak knives, but it’s not a problem. What my canine companion lacks in opposable thumbs, he makes up for with serrated premolars. As he tears into his dinner in the “Last Best Place”—the beloved moniker for our home state of Montana—I tear up a little. Unfortunately, the vet recently diagnosed Zeus, the rescue dog who rescued me, with terminal cancer. That’s why we’re on this Make-a-Wish-style bucket list sojourn. Fortunately, The Resort at Paws Up is making sure he goes out knowing he’s not just a good boy, he’s the best boy.
Thirty-five miles northeast of the college town of Missoula, The Resort at Paws Up sprawls out over 37,000 acres in Montana’s scenic Blackfoot River Valley. The setting, immortalized in A River Runs Through It, also has historical significance. “This is the same cliff Captain Merriweather Lewis climbed in 1805 to see over the trees and determine which route they’d take to the Pacific,” says my Paws Up rappelling guide. The irony that Lewis’ most loyal companion on The Corps of Discovery was his Newfoundland, Seaman, is not lost on me. Patiently waiting for me at the bottom of the 150-foot-tall rock face is my 150-pound Newfoundland-Saint Bernard mix, Zeus.
Star treatment
Unlike most dog-friendly properties, Paws Up doesn’t have weight limits or breed restrictions. And there’s zero tolerance for mutt shaming. “All dogs are welcome,” insists Mindy Marcum, director of special projects at this guest ranch where rates start around $2,400 per night. There’s also a $50 per day pet fee. In fact, she tells me Paws Up, which was founded in 2005 and is open year round, gets its name from “how excited dogs get when they see their family.” While the resort regularly hosts VIPs like The Rolling Stones, Leonardo DiCaprio, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Usher—whose son, Usher Jr., fell in love with Zeus during our stay—the four-legged guests are the real MVPs.
The red carpet treatment starts at reception. Before I can pull out my ID or credit card for incidentals I’m peppered with oohs, ahhs, and questions like,“And who is this?” “How old are we?” “Can he have a treat?” Of course he can. The handmade, locally-sourced dog treats are so enticing I’m tempted to take one for myself. From check-in to check-out, the unspoken motto at Paws Up is “only the best for man’s best friend.”
For example, instead of sleeping on the heated floors of our two-bedroom Big Timber home—just one of the resort’s many pet-friendly accommodations—Zeus spins in three circles (got to make sure it’s just right), before plopping down on a plush Pendleton dog bed. Housekeeping strategically positioned it to the left of the stone fireplace, in front of the living room’s massive windows so he can have staring contests with wildlife passing by. A basket overflowing with dog toys is perched on a side table. The tennis balls are so fresh out of the can I smell them before I see them. While Zeus is too sick to play fetch like he used to, I appreciate the gesture.
Bending over, I realize there’s already fresh water in one of the dog dishes they set out. And the collar hanging up behind the door? That’s for him, too. On the table I find a map featuring the 30+ miles of dog-friendly hiking trails on the property. Next to it is a small welcome card, addressed to Zeus and signed by the dog who belongs to Paws Up’s owner, Nadine Lipson. Later, I ask Marcum why Lipson’s dog isn’t the resort’s mascot. “We have hundreds of animals in our care on our property so there’s no need for one mascot,” she tells me.
Forest bathing for Fido
In addition to hosting travelers from around the world—Zeus is the conversation starter that cements a newfound friendship with a family of return guests from the Cayman Islands—the resort raises Black Angus cattle. They’re the source of the aforementioned tomahawk and Paws Up’s signature “Big Mac”—a melt-in-your-mouth Wagyu steak prepared on a slab of rock borrowed from the Blackfoot River. The resort is also home to a healthy herd of bison and elk, which also make appearances on the resort’s menus.
Meanwhile over in Spa Town, a semi-circle of starched white canvas tents looking out over a meadow surrounded by towering pines, pooches are pampered with 15-minute “Wag the Tail” treatments. They’re complimentary with the purchase of each 60-minute spa service. During my well-earned “Cowboy Classic” massage—which I book after a day of exploring the ranch on horseback—Zeus goes on his own adventure. Spa managers are happy to take guests’ dogs “forest bathing” while their human counterparts are in do-not-disturb mode.
Paws Up also doesn’t charge for walks, hikes, or daycare service, even in the evenings. While I spend an afternoon shooting .22s—one of dozens of activities guests can book in the resort’s Wilderness Outpost—Zeus is doted on at the front desk. Marcum insists staff, even housekeeping, don’t mind being on doggie duty. “We enjoy the unique work environment that comes with a dog spending time with us, and we think humans make considerably more of a mess.”
Finding your muse
It’s true. While taking an outdoor art class on the banks of the Blackfoot River—Paws Up regularly brings in artists to host workshops and retreats—I have trouble coloring within the canvas. But Zeus, my muse, doesn’t care. He poses like the Great Sphinx of Giza until someone comes by with an old-school camera and asks if they can take a photo of us. I agree. It’s only fair because earlier in the day I’d let Usher play paparazzi, too.
Later that night, when we return to our room, Zeus and I are surprised to find a framed photo of us, taken during the art class. It’s the first tangible picture I hold of my better half for the past five years. Before I can call reception to thank them, the dam breaks and a river’s worth of tears begin to flow.
Zeus crossed the rainbow bridge shortly after our stay. Naturally, I was gutted. But I took solace in knowing that before he passed he got to live his best life (at least for a few days) in “The Last Best Place.” And my Paws Up story doesn’t end with his death. I’ve been back with my new bestie, a 110-pound Leonberger who always drools and sometimes answers to “Wilco.” In fact, in August, we were among the two-legged and four-legged competitors participating in Paws Up’s 16th annual Canine Classic. This year all proceeds went to Working Dogs for Conservation.
Of course, my date and I weren’t looking forward to the five-mile run as much as we were looking forward to the Wine & Bitch Dinner the night before. I told him that if Chef Jin spoils him with a tomahawk, he has to share. Fortunately, we both like our steaks medium-rare.