Archive for June, 2017

Homer Hanuman Ram Dog:  June 9, 2003 – June 21, 2017

Homer taught me everything I know about God, as did his predecessor, a Golden Retriever called Shiva.  From them I learned how to be a disciple; and from them I learned how to be a master.  I learned how to wait for instruction from God, twisting in pain if I went against what I knew – the will of God revealed to me if I waited.

Homer Hanuman Ram Dog used to corral the children if they got too rowdy in the pool.  He gave slurp-baths to Odysseus and Boots, our two cats, who welcomed his sloppy drool as they preened themselves by the fire. He helped me through the bad times when the family blew apart and my health faltered and the marriage ended.  He was there.  Always there.  Allowing me to bury my head in his neck and cry.  When he slept his fur smelled like popcorn and his feet smelled like Fritos.

Because of his compromised health and his crippled legs and spine, Homer tried and tried to join groups in the dog park.  No pack would have him.  He would run up to a few dogs to try and play, but they usually attacked him, leaving him dirty and sometimes with a bloody lip.  What did he do? He ran to another pack to be accepted.  Eventually Homer would be accepted by the chihuahua’s.  And the memory I have of those dog park trips (not only having to learn the most difficult parenting skills of not interfering when the other dogs took him down) are of Homer, an 80 pound yellow lab, playing with 2 or 3 little dogs, running after them, letting them climb all over his belly and nip at his face, enjoying life like I have never seen a dog enjoy life, giving these chihuahua’s something to brag about when they got home – perfectly content to be mocked by the other grownups and chastised for being in the small dog park; being barked at by the larger dogs and by other, non-compromised Labradors.  What lessons we learned in humility!  What lessons my Homer taught me in patience and acceptance!

And I?  I will never forget the look from Homer’s long face when we became lovers, so long ago.  I will never forget that Homer, even in his later years and with his crippled condition that made him fall all the time, never walked through a door before me.  He waited, allowing the woman he loved and served to go before him.  He never once, not once, rushed the door.  He waited, collapsing on his rotten back legs, his hips a phenomenon of the past, his gratitude nonetheless apparent for yet another day with the One He Loved and Who Loved Him back. He waited, he watched, he served, he loved.  And he could no longer walk.  He hopped.  Homer hopped for the last two years of his life, and when he couldn’t hop, he used his front legs to drag himself. He was just so very happy to be Homer Hanuman Ram Dog.  Nothing else.  Just my good, good Homer. Just Homer, the dog.

Homer taught me how to love.  He taught me how to be of service.  He taught me everything about being a disciple.

I hope you are hopping in heaven, Homer, playing with the chihuahua’s. I think I can hear you there right now….

June 22, 2017


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