I remember like it was yesterday – Larry and I connected so perfectly right from the start. His trainer made the introduction in February 2005, when she specifically mentioned that, “if you’re not a fan of attention, Larry probably isn’t the dog for you.” The massive blockhead was a dead ringer for oohs and aahs, but with each pair of eyeballs on us came the opportunity to outreach, advocate and educate. Larry did a lot of that throughout his lifetime.

Larry wasn’t a shy pup, that’s for sure, and he instantly nestled himself right into our family. Many of our happiest and memorable stories have some mention of him – including our wedding. I could ramble for days the funny situations we always seemed to find ourselves, and the hilarious things folks would say to and about us. Absolutely good times.

That’s why the decision to euthanize Larry was utterly agonizing – yet so swiftly decided. This pup single-handedly ushered me into confidence when I needed it the most. His keen sense of awareness, selflessness, dependability, eagerness to work, loyalty and sensitivity made him the best travel companion, copilot, guide and buddy a blind guy – or any guy – could ask for. My heart crumbled time after time as Larry’s health began to deteriorate last fall, which was honestly the only way we’d ever manage to get him out of harness. He was just that dedicated.

I never imagined cancer would overtake him. Not in a million years did I ever expect this. And – even more – the cancer was so aggressive. What started so seemingly innocent as a few missed meals quickly turned into a diagnosis of colon, prostate and liver cancer. It was miserable watching him snub his nose at even the tastiest of table scraps, only because it would be so painful to digest. Days, verging on a week, of no substantial food left our boy tired, weak, distant and lethargic, which isn’t how we wanted to remember him.

On Friday, December 2nd, Angela and I, along with the insight from our friends at Guide Dogs of Texas, made the decision to give Larry peace. I believe it was the ultimate means of honoring him – ending the pain and suffering he was experiencing. He didn’t deserve it. I can’t tell you how saddened we were to make the decision – but know it was undoubtedly the best one available.

Thank you all so much for loving this pup the way we did. Thanks for holding on to so many of those precious, amusing and inspiring Larry stories acquired through the years. He was truly a good dog – the best – and I can say with great certainty that he’s going to be a tough act to follow. We’ll certainly miss him. The house already feels empty without him.

It’s been incredible to see the outpouring of support from not only my family and friends – but even the good folks at the Texas A&M Small Animal Clinic, as well as Guide Dogs of Texas in San Antonio. Without the love and support shown us throughout the past few weeks, we most certainly would find ourselves in utter despair. Mandi, our slightly less aware and not so mobility oriented border collie mix, will wear Larry’s tags on her collar, in an attempt to keep her brother’s same cheery jingle fluttering through our house in his absence.

NOTE While I’ve had this post sitting as a “Draft”, I got word from GDTX about a match for the spring training session. On January 24th, we’ll meet Piper, and barring any unforeseen hurdles, evaluate training with her in late February. As always – I’ll keep you posted.