Homer Keckler

 

 

 

 

 

 

This blog post is dedicated to the memory of the sweetest member of the Keckler family.  Homer, one of my dearest friends, died last week on the 3rd of January. 

 

He lived a good long life...15 years! 

I can still remember when my dad brought Homer home from work with him.  His name wasn't Homer then: it was "Ears." 

 

My mom changed his name to Homer.  He just...looked like a Homer, not a "ears."  Besides, Homer was a great Greek poet and wrote very thought-provoking things.  Our new dog was a thoughtful dog. His new name was Homer, and it fit him. 

 



I was only 7 years old when my dad brought him home, but we formed a sort of bond: one that you would find in Old Yeller or Lassie.  It was my job to feed Homer every morning, and often I would teach him "tricks."    

 

I remember first teaching Homer how to "stay" and "Come" and simple things.  Then we learned the harder ones: shaking hands and begging.  He was a professional beggar and knew just the whining noise to make when he wanted a treat.  :)

 

Homer was often caught stealing plums, red beets, potatoes and cherry tomatoes from crates in the shed before we would head off to market.  He wouldn't eat them: just carry them off and sit next to them.  I caught Homer red-handed with this Methley plum.

 

When I was still in school, sometimes when I needed a break, I would sneak up on Homer when he was curled up like this, sleeping, and take a picture of him. 

 

 

 

Homer was known to make friends with anyone.  We have always joked that if a robber ever came to our property, he'd get away with anything he liked, since Homer would just wag his tail and make friends with him.  :)

Every spring, Homer's coat was thick and poofy.  I would brush him out.  Last spring, I couldn't find Homer's dog brush, so I used my hairbrush instead...He was so happy after I finished.

  



 

Homer was a snow-dog.  He always loved exploring in the snow, even though his paws often got really cold.  The day Homer died, my dad found his tracks in the snow.  He'd taken one last trip out exploring to the greenhouse and then went back to his house.  

 



 

It can be called sappy, or even tacky, but I just had to get this one last picture with Homer.  My footprints beside his paw-prints. 

I'll miss my buddy.  I regret not doing as often what I know he loved so much.  He loved to just sit on the porch with me, and look at the sunset.  I don't know if he loved looking at the sunset as I did(probably not), but I know he loved my company.  I know I loved his.