With apologies to C.S. Lewis for ripping off his title
He initially belonged to Andrew, but after he moved out, he became my (and Jo's) dog. I don't think he ever forgot his original owner, he would always rush to greet men of that age.
Brody was the dog I had always wanted as a child. A true retriever, he was never happier than chasing a ball or a stick and bringing it back. Letting go of it was harder, but he managed it. He preferred footballs, but tennis balls were a close second. In the early days, he could chase a ball from the ball thrower and take it out of the air when he was half a metre or more clear of the ground, and would run back to me. Just a year later, still with an amazing ability to catch, he would walk back.
He was the gentlest dog I have ever known (we had four when I was a child). Despite some quite rough play fights, he never once bit me. On occasion when a tooth or a claw caught my skin he would stop immediately and look really concerned. As the grand children arrived, he respected their space and allowed them to climb over him as they wanted. Only ever knocking them over with his tail. It was the tail that gave away his mood, so we can be sure he was a very happy dog.
In some situations, he was also the best behaved dog I have ever known. When we first took him into a large pub with lots of other dogs and human food everywhere, he laid down under the table and went to sleep, ignoring all the barking around him.
Other than food (he's a Labrador) and a ball, he also loved to swim. On at least three occasions, this caused us some difficulties. On holiday in Swansea, I threw the ball into the sea, and he retrieved it many times, but on the last occasion the tide had turned. With the wind blowing out to sea and the ball dropping on the wrong side of a wave, I thought I had drowned him. I stood on the shore screaming for him to return, as he determinedly followed the ball out to sea. He eventually turned and arrived back exhausted, so much, so he didn't even have the energy to shake for a few minutes. The other two occasions were because of his love of the water, jumping into a pond with high sides at the bottom of a steep embankment, he had a lovely swim, but could not get out. I eventually rescued him. Missing the ball on a tow-path and knocking it into the river, also down a metre or so, I went paddling to try to help him out. Eventually he gave up the ball in favour of the treats on the bank and pulled himself out, but it was a tense 15 minutes. In later years, the weekly hydro therapy sessions were the high light of his week.
Walks along the beach allowed him to enjoy a ball and a swim. The first time I let him off lead on a beach and encouraged him to swim, he was unsure, looking back at me as he put a paw in the water, and checking again with each further step. On one holiday, I taught him to put his head underwater to retrieve the ball.
Walks in the woods meant that he could carry a ridiculously long stick that was impossible to get through gates or even sometimes narrow parts of the path, he would stubbornly hold on, twisting and turning until there was a way through.
In Mill Meadows he was wary of the cows after an incident, this was before the red pol heard was there. We had been walking through a lightly wooded part when we came across the cows grazing in the heather. The path was completely blocked. I said to Brody, "go, clear the path". How he understood I don't know, but he crept forward and nipped a cow on its back leg. It shot through the undergrowth, and the others followed in a mini stampede. I was proud of him. Cows don't forget. The next year we had a semicircle of cows approaching us one walk, Brody was next to me and soon moved behind me. We turned around and went back the way we had come.
He also loved snow and frost. Walks would take longer on cold, frosty or snowy days. There was so much to sniff at, and so much to roll in. When the snow was thick enough, we made snow balls and threw them in the air for him to jump up and catch and eat. Winter was never so enjoyable.
He loved to chase cats and foxes, but wouldn't bother with anything smaller. There was a ginger cat that teased him at the bottom of our road. One day, the cat failed to realise that Brody was off the lead. (I was teaching him to walk next to me off-lead, a skill that he almost mastered this year.) It spotted his imminent approach just in time, and escaped over a fence, but never teased Brody again.
Brody had the title 'Seeker and Destroyer' of tennis balls, often disappearing into a hedge or bramble patch and returning with a ball. These balls belonged to him, he liked to carry them home after we had played with them, sit with them in the garden and slowly peel off the cover.
He was a friendly dog, especially with humans. One cold wet night he was not particularly enjoying his walk until a couple coming the other way said "a chocolate lab", this perked him up, so they petted him for a bit and for the rest of the walk his head was up and his tail wagging. I believe there are at least 3 people who have a dog now, at least partly because Brody was so lovely. He also made friends with a dog down the road - Mollie, and took her into our house and up to a bedroom. He loved his place on the sofa, next to me, often with his head on my knees, he also assumed that the car had the same rules and wanted to sit in the passenger seat.
A car ride to a new place was an adventure. Whenever we parked in a car park he didn't recognise, he had a special howl that meant 'let me out, let me out'. Once we stopped in a queue for a small ferry, which Brody thought was a car park. His howl was enough to get the attention of surrounding drivers.
On holidays, he went with us everywhere, we usually visited a heritage railway at some point. Trains were not his favourite things, after one whistled as it went past him. He was scared of trains, lorries and buses passing close to him for many years after that. Even so, I'm sure he would have preferred to be with us than left behind. It didn't stop him being happy to ride in them with us, sat at our feet those journeys must have been uncomfortable for him. At one station, on a hot summer's day, we visited a model railway and were impressed at the sound effects. It took a while to realise that the sound was really Brody panting.
Summer was not his favourite time because he didn't enjoy hot days. One walk over the cliffs was abandoned as he flatly refused to go any further. We were on the top of a cliff on the coastal path when he laid down under a gorse bush, panting heavily and refusing to drink, he had had enough. We coaxed him to the next bay and caught a bus back to the holiday house.
After being brushed with the undercoat removing brush or being bathed, he would have a 'mad moment', crisscrossing the garden in a weird gallop with wide eyes and twisting and turning in all directions. Once in the winter, he was bathed in the bath. He laid on his back, allowing me to run the shower over his chest and neck. Such a trusting dog. He still needed his 'mad moment' in the garden to recover.
When we went to America, he stayed with Heather, who ran a dog boarding service. He loved it there and on his second visit was so excited when he realised where he was.
There were some types of dog he was not keen on - greyhounds in particular brought out the worst, and boxers were for chasing. He was wary of dogs that were small enough to go under him.
He had problems with his back legs from an early age, first his left, which he would occasionally hold up, and after a game with a friend jumping over ditches, his right. When we saw the x-rays, it was obvious that his hip was almost non-existent. The vet told us that he hid is pain very well. After our summer holiday in 2017, he had an operation to remove the top of his right femur, so the bones would no longer grind. The long recovery included hydrotherapy, which initially brought him back to a good level of fitness, and continued every week for the rest of his life.
The last couple of years have been difficult for him, with increasing health issues and loss of control of his rear end. Nevertheless, he remained mainly a happy dog and still enjoyed a slow walk. He was always ashamed of himself when he pooed on the floor overnight, poor thing.
There is a 10-minute video showing pictures and video clips of him from 2010 to 2022 here: https://youtu.be/BUcatDDN6gQ
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