I loved him. And he loved me. We are the lucky ones.

 

June 4, 2020

 

Homer stopped eating a few days ago. I watched him carefully because everyone told me that he would tell me when he’s ready to go. I hovered over him for the past couple of weeks like any good helicopter parent. I glanced at him every few minutes to verify I could see his chest rising and so I knew he was breathing. Until today, when I knew that I had to make the ultimate sacrifice for his well-being over my desire to keep him alive because I didn’t want to live in the world without him. I don’t. Especially now. Has there been a darker time during my lifetime? I can’t recall one. Police brutality against peaceful protestors. Killer pandemic. Oh yeah, and there’s also an asteroid careening towards earth… It’s never the right time to say goodbye, but now is an especially bad time to lose my co-pilot.

 

This isn’t about me. This is a celebration and a reflection on all of the goodness Homer has heaped upon my life. For the past few months, I had been bracing for full pain impact for today when he took his last breath. I feel a bottomless pit of sadness, but I also feel big waves of the joy and unconditional love he has show me for the past 13 years. I’m so lucky he chose me on that beautiful June day in 2007 at the Wisconsin Humane Society. Homer enriched my life endlessly.

 

Anyone who has or had a dog understands. Anyone who presently has a monogamous relationship with their dog, really understands. Homer was my mate. Well, I should amend that. We aren’t lovers (ewww), but he’s a better listener, playmate, non-judging friend than any man I’ve ever dated or known. That’s because dogs are better than people. I’m not sure which Greek philosopher said this, but it’s true. Ok, I said it.

 

I named Homer “Homer” because I discovered him at the Wisconsin Humane Society on a warm and sunny day in June, 2007 just a few weeks after I bought my first home. I wanted to choose a name that represented that big moment in my life. My first home. What I didn’t know then, that I know now is that over the 13 years we spent together, Homer became my home.

 

Homie was the cutest puppy! Ever! And lots of people wanted him at the Humane Society that day. But I got him. He was the top prize for some good deed I did somewhere sometime.

 

Here’s just a few things that I loved and love about him:

• Homer *always* let me sleep in whenever I wanted. He was selfless like that. And I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe his bladder was made of titanium steel. He had one accident in the house in 13 years. I am pretty sure I’ve peed on the floor more than he did.

• He didn’t need a leash (“um, leashes are for dogs! I am NOT a dog” – said Homer). He’d often trash-talk and chase squirrels up trees; and when a daring squirrel raced across our street, Homer, hot on its trail, screeched to a halt at the curb. So much restraint. He understood that the no-leash policy was a privilege not a right. He was so good. He was the best.
• I could leave a dinner plate heaping with food on the eye-level coffee table and he wouldn’t touch it. He believed in the honor system.
• He woke up the entire neighborhood when he SQUEAKED louder than the loudest car alarm to show his enthusiasm and joy to see you. Nobody was more happy to see me. Or anyone. His joy was boundless and indiscriminate.

• One summer several years ago, he overcame his fear of walking the plank (bravely walking on a dock) so he could go on booze cruises at my friends’ lake house. He showed me real courage so I didn’t feel so afraid in my everyday endeavors (which is a trait I’m using a lot these days).

• He was an excellent house guest when I traveled (and always welcome to join me at the lake). If I traveled farther than a weekend car trip, he could stay with friends who were happy to have him. I knew he’d behave so I could enjoy my adventures away from home. He missed me, but he was brave and generous like that.

• He let me photograph him like I was William Wegman resulting in hundreds… ok, thousands of digital images of him (see MORE pix in the slideshow below). He was my muse.

• He was my best personal trainer and made going for walks fun. And if I only wanted to walk to the corner because I was running late… he popped a squat and pooped within 4 minutes. Homer was the all-time undisputed insta-pooper.
• Homer loved nature and reminded me to stop to smell flowers and lilacs in our neighborhood. He appreciated the small stuff and as he aged, he walked slower and slower and found the shady spot under my magnolia to be a cozy spot.

• Everyone in our neighborhood knows Homer. Only a few people know my name.
• He showed his love to everyone. Strangers. Me. Everybody. He didn’t play hard-to-get. And he had real favorites. He loved his Granny and kept her company while she sewed every day. He understood the power of togetherness.

 

And today, he leaned into the great unknown. Brave and showing no fear after dying slowly for months. Slow enough for me to grieve on layaway. I’ve been making small grief pre-payments for the last few months so today’s big grief lump sum didn’t hit me all at once.

 

I will always love Homer more than most humans because he loved me 100% unconditionally. He loved me when I was unlovable because he didn’t think I was ever unlovable. He loved me when I was late to walk/feed him and kept him waiting and never complained or revenge peed on my favorite rug. Lots of people say they have the best dog, but we know the truth.

 

Homer was almost 13 years and 2 months old. About 92 in human years. He’s lived a wonderful long life and being 92 reminds me of another amazing bright light I admired who also left a beautiful legacy that lives on, and inspires me. Johnny Barnes believed that “life is sweet. Life is beautiful… it’s always sweet to be alive.” Homer lived by Johnny’s words.

 

I don’t want to stop writing this because ending this is really the end. But I read that eulogies are supposed to be short. The best ones are less than 10 minutes long, so this one is already too long. But before I say goodbye for good, I want to also share my favorite EE Cummings poem that maybe shouldn’t be applied to a dog, but Homer wasn’t really a dog. Homer inhabited a physical body so I could see up close what real love looks like. And now he is a bright light who will shine brightly for me all of the rest of my days.

 

i carry your heart with me

 

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,

my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

 

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

 

I carry your heart, Homer. I carry it in my heart. 

 

 

 

Posted on June 4, 2020 at 7:19 pm in Uncategorized   |  RSS feed |   Reply   |   Trackback URL