Our loyal friend left us on Saturday, November 27.

His life with us started and ended with a two-and-a-half hour car ride.  In 1999 we picked up the 9-week old puppy in Fort Madison, IA and drove back to Pella with him on the arm rest.  On that ride, we landed on his name, Cymon (pronounced “Simon”), named for our alma mater, the Iowa State Cyclones.  This last Saturday, it was a trip back from Bettendorf, IA where we had just spent a family Thanksgiving; Cymon in the back riding with his “pack”.

He was our kid before kids.  And when our two-legged ones started arriving he gladly welcomed them in.

After chewing through his lead in the first two minutes of obedience school, he earned “Most Improved” dog by the end.  He went backpacking with us in Colorado and camping numerous times.  In the winter, he loved chasing around his indestructible  “Jolly Ball” through the snow (supposedly “indestructible”; he went through a couple).  He loved people, always preferring to be in the room we were in, rather than outside chasing squirrels.  He was a cuddler…in the winter at night time, as difficult as it is for an 80-pound dog to “sneak”, he would sneak into our bed and dive head first under the covers.  He always greeted people with an object (a stick, a shoe, a toy); never damaging the thing, just to say, “Welcome!  Is this something you would like?”  His happy tail was an unstoppable force clearing off the coffee table when visitors were around.  When we put on music and danced in the living room with the kids, he was beside himself and never knew what to do, so he would jump up with his front paws and do his best to participate in the event.  His best trick was when we told him “Secret!” and he would run up to you and press his ear eagerly up to your mouth to hear words about either a treat or a walk or some other adventure.

He’d had a tough last year dealing with a large growth which had completely compressed his right lung.  And in a place this weekend where he’s normally energized by the presence of two other yellow labs, his body inexplicably shut down.  He even did his best to communicate to us—curling up under some bushes outside a number of times—letting us know that for him the battle had become too tough.

But during his last ride home, Cymon stoically approached his fate (pic included of the ride home, one of the few times he sat up on his last day).