by Peter Barhydt
This week, one of our Labrador Retrievers went to Boston. That is what our family says when we need to put down a dog. “Epic Adventure Barhydt,” our gentle giant of a black lab went to Boston. Age was not his enemy, his body was. It became obvious to all in our family that he was not going to live into old age. On Tuesday he let us know it was time and so we had to say goodbye.
From the moment we picked up Epic at a rural airstrip in Virginia until the very end, he truly lived up to his name. He was the Concierge of our home, greeting all who visited. Showing guests where to sleep and often sneaking into their rooms (and onto their beds) to keep them company. The result being we have heard from many overnight guests how much they will miss Epic’s company on their next visit.
He was a lover of nature. During summer months he would bark at fireflies in the evening. He would chase after deer that ventured into the yard, but only because he wanted to play with them. Epic was very sociable and would encourage dogs being walked by the house to come in for a play date. In the wintertime he loved to chase his sister around the yard during snowstorms and try to catch snowballs.
While trained as a bird hunter, Epic only had one successful hunt. A chipmunk entered our kitchen years ago through an open window and when told to “fetch” Epic did, so swiftly and gently so that we could actually release it unharmed outside.
To Epic, everyone was a friend. While his sister is a little more discerning and fiercer, Epic never met a hand that he would not lick or take a pat from. He was what we eventually labeled an aggressive snuggler. If he could wedge his muzzle under your arm, he would and be happy with the resulting attention. Often, I could look down while working to find his head resting quietly on my lap, big eyes looking up at me.
We used to say that Epic was forever on the wrong side of a door, barking to be let in or out. Then we realized that all he wanted was to be with us and that is why he was on the wrong side of the door. He would often get himself “locked” in our son’s room by mistake after he went in to be with him and fell asleep, not realizing our son had gone out to do something and the door closed behind him.
In the end his body failed him and on Tuesday we took him to Boston. The kids (and even a childhood friend who knew him well when they both were younger) came over to give him long hugs and a good tummy rub before I carried him to the car. As the doctor administered the final shots my wife put her head next to Epic’s to make sure she was the last thing he saw. We tried not to cry but it’s hard not to when you are saying goodbye.
Today there is a void in the house and the other dogs are a little quieter. They too sense the loss. But we all take comfort in knowing that having this dog in our lives for ten years, although less time than we may have wanted, was an epic adventure.
