“Flynn”

Flynn had been purchased by the woman who owned him from

a breeder in Northeast Canada .

He was known as ” Lyndenhall’s Swashbuckler’s Gold”,

and went by the call name of “Flynn”.

He was purchased with the intent of using him in a breeding program.

He had a beautiful head and the laid-back personality the

woman was looking for. Unfortunately he never grew to the

desired size and would never be a breeding dog.

He would remain in a kennel for the rest of his life unless someone

would buy him and make him into a housedog.

When we met Flynn it was love at first sight. He was a dog in need of a

good home and we were a couple desperately in need of a good dog.

We were a perfect match.

The woman suggested a “test run” and we were off down the driveway with

Flynn keeping pace alongside us looking up every now and then

with his huge brown eyes making sure he was doing all the

right things to win our approval.

I couldn’t write the check fast enough and with the stroke of a pen

we became the proud parents of a 2 ½ year old Labrador Retriever.

On his papers his color was given as “yellow” but his coat more closely

resembled the color of a pearl shining iridescently when he

lay in the sun which he loved to do.

Flynn was the calmest quietest dog I’ve ever known. We could probably

count on one hand the number of times he actually barked in all the years he

was with us except when he was deep asleep and dreaming.

The he became a brave noble watchdog baring his teeth and growling

or running after some “faceless intruder,” barking out his warning.

Flynn tolerated all of my eccentricities and they were many.

I’m sure he was more that a little embarrassed when I put sunglasses

a silk scarf and the seat belt on him and we rode around in my Jeep

with the top down. Or when I bought him a pink feathered mask

for Halloween and we went through the drive in window at the bank.

The teller saw this big white dog sitting strapped into the seat with

the belt and the ridiculous pink thing parked on his face and she ran

and got the bank manager who insisted we come inside so she

could take Flynn’s picture. He got an extra cookie for that performance.

Flynn wore reindeer antlers on Christmas or angel wings and

a halo depending on my mood at the time. All the while he never

complained or tried to shake off his “get-ups” but rather played

right along enjoying all the extra attention such antics generated.

Flynn dutifully climbed our circular stairs every evening so that he

could be near us as we slept. He didn’t like the stairs because of

their openness. But rather than miss being with us he endured the climb.

We began to notice in January of 1996 that it was becoming increasingly

more difficult for Flynn to make the climb.

We realized how all of a sudden he was aging quickly and we began

fearing the worst. When Flynn came into our lives we made a pact that

he would not be allowed to suffer any pain nor would he be a guinea pig

to test different treatments on. When we discovered that he had cancer

along with his arthritis. I asked my vet to promise me that when she felt

there was nothing more we could humanely do to keep him comfortable,

she would let me know. When we made a last-ditch effort to stop the

inevitable and it failed we knew the time had come.

There was only one more choice to make to keep our beloved

boy from suffering. How odd it seemed that the last day of his life

should be a beautiful sun-filled day.

We should have been enjoying the day instead of preparing to

day goodbye to our devoted loving dog.

Flynn was no longer able to walk or even stand on his own,

so my Husband carried him into the clinic and laid him on the examing

table on his soft old blanket that I had brought along with us.

We both held on to Flynn. Mac held his sick body and I held his head.

Thankfully the end came quickly. His breathing became increasingly

shallower until it ceased altogether. We had talked to him constantly

through the procedure telling him how much we loved him and

would miss him and that we would wee him again someday.

I found some comfort in knowing that the last thing he felt were our

arms around him and the last sound he heard was our voice.

Afterwards I lay his noble white head on his paws and closed the

beautiful brown eyes that had looked to me so often for approval.

He is greatly missed and there is a void in our hearts that

will never be filled.

God speed Flynn.