Homer's special page

From BayTeam

Robert Yi asked for a special page where he could share his additional comments about his dog, Homer.

My thoughts, August 19, 2008

There is nothing more impersonal than some mass-o-gram. For those of you who have written us, you deserve better. I want to thank you first and foremost. I am amazed by how many of you care, and we are so grateful. So grateful.

Initially I hesitated to write this because Karen will read this, and I know she will weep. If I had to pick her single defining quality, it is how she loves, openly, committed, without reservation.

Usually I'm a very private person, but I feel like Homer is more alive this way. I hope our experience can enrich your lives in some small way. I know that your messages have enriched ours.

On Friday evening, we took the boys out to the fields for a long run. Homer ran very hard as usual. I wonder now if I didn't run him too hard, if I didn't somehow damage his heart. We had spent all week working on our guest unit, painting and putting up drywall, spending some very late nights. While we were out there Homer was in the backyard often playing, and sometimes wandering in where we were working. We'd shoo him out because we didn't want him to step in the paint.

On Saturday morning, I didn't go with Karen to Lake Del Valle because I was helping course build for the US world team agility practices. I had almost bowed out, but decided not to because I had given my word already. Just the day before, Karen gave me grief for being a flip-flopper. I kept changing my mind, thinking how fun it would be to take the dogs to the lake, but in the end I felt I had to do the "right thing" - keep my word. I knew Karen would take good care of them, she had taken them before on her own. That morning, my last session with Homer, I played with him on the floor, as he loved to do. When you lie down on the floor, he tries to burrow under you. I did that with him for a few minutes - it was one of our favorite games, his most endearing one. We'd hide our faces, and he'd do his best to try and force you to show it, using his nose, so he could lick it. I kissed him like I always do, but not when I left.

I got Karen's call at the indoor soccer practice facility. Stupidly, I had my cell phone off, thinking that Karen would be just having fun - I didn't want to disturb her by trying to call her. She had called me as Homer's situation became desperate - but he was still alive. I still haven't turned on my phone since - I don't know if I can bear to listen to that call. I will not recount Karen's whole story - only that she is stronger than I am. She finally called the facility, and I was surprised to be handed the phone. The first thing that I recall was "Robby, Homer passed away". We would never joke about something like that, and the stress in her voice was very obvious. I don't remember much except rushing off. I just told her I'd meet her at home. In the car, I tried to collect my thoughts and called her back. It turned out she had been trying to get to Dublin, which was very far away, for a vet. But since Homer had stopped breathing, she had given up and started home. I told her to drive straight away to the emergency vet that we knew about close by. That sliver of hope is how I kept it together during my drive. It took me an agonizing 20 minutes to get the vet hospital. Of course, he had been gone for too long. The vet said at the time, if he had been breathing, maybe there would have been a chance. We took Homer home at first - we couldn't bear to leave him at the vet. Karen believes once the body comes home once, the soul finds it way as well. I tried to hold him, but it was dreadful. I don't want to remember him that way. Karen saved some of his fur from the top of his head, where she kissed him the most. I clipped some from his neck, the white blaze. We sleep with it for now, it's all we have until his ashes come back in a few weeks. Karen is making many prints for the house.

We went over to a very close friend's place on Saturday night, Karen had too much to drink but I think she needed it. I don't know if Homer could have been saved or not. The only way to keep it together is to believe the result would have been the same. It seems likely - trying to be rational. If it had been a lung issue, like an inhaled foxtail, we would have seen some evidence of it. Heartworm, same thing. Maybe an enlarged heart? I keep thinking if we had been together, maybe we could have made it - one of the few times we are alone, and this happens. Poor Karen had to get help, carry Homer back, and see him die in her arms. I always try to kill those thoughts as soon as they pop in my head - the "what-ifs". They won't bring Homer back.

On Sunday, as much as I dreaded it, we went back to Lake Del Valle, I had to see what happened. It was much better than I thought, seeing how pleasant everything was, how good the sun felt. A lovely spot for the dogs to swim. It helped a lot, because up until that point, I had only seen his poor body and could only imagine his last moments - and my imagination wasn't good. The drive back was dreadful. But Karen kept reminding me he had not died there, but in the car, our car. I would hate for his spirit to be trapped there, we need him home with us.

Monday morning was very tough. We have a usual routine, Karen will wake up first, let the dogs out. Homer is always the first up, attentive to Karen. As she gets ready for work, Homer always slips into bed with me. He is the only one that will lie comfortably with us. In fact, we had him so well trained that when we'd say "off", he'd only press harder and settle in deeper. And his tactic worked more often than not. It was hard being alone in the house, much harder than I thought it'd be. Poor Cap & Ben. I know they are sick of me, I'm constantly grabbing them and forcing them to lie still while I hold them. They rarely want to stay still for too long. It helps a little. I give them long hugs as much as I can.

Being out has helped a little. On the walks, it's tough, but seeing the other boys run about makes it easier. Karen & I have made it a point to try and come home around the same time, so neither of us have to be alone for too long. The homecoming ritual was always so joyful. Homer was always the attentive one, the only one. He's the first to poke his head out the window to see who's arrived, and the first to run to the door and wait. He would always jump and wriggle until he got the appropriate amount of attention. Only then would he finally run off and play. If I didn't pet him enough, he'd follow me inside, jumping on the sofa or bed - trying to get at my eye level to make sure I knew he was there. Monday afternoon, pulling into the driveway was a very low moment.

This morning, maybe a little better. Karen & I talked for a long time last night. I was very depressed yesterday, but I don't want to shortchange the other boys. We have a responsibility to the living. Rationally, we understand what we have to do. Today is the first day I will take the boys back to the fields to run them. I rather dread it, but maybe it won't be as bad as I think. This Thursday night is Homer's agility class. He had been doing so well, it was a joy to see him get better each week. I don't know if I have the heart to go this week. At the very least Karen will take the other 2 dogs. I just don't know if I could keep it together it.

There are so many pictures that we missed. As we were looking through pictures and videos, we realized how many opportunities we had missed to capture those moments, absolutely joyful moments for him, at Santa Cruz beach, at Ft. Funston with the other dogs, at his puppy socials, and everyday things like training, walking, and playing in the house. He was always such a sweet pup. You wouldn't imagine the messages we've gotten. I find them very hard to read, as I just cannot keep it together. But it has helped sharing - we desperately want other people to recognize how special he was. I'm happy to read how people do recognize how sweet he was, even when they met him just once or a few times. It helps knowing it isn't just us.

Early this summer, for about 2 months, he was hurt. Another dog bit him, and it was infected. It made me upset, because he was just wanting to say hello, but dogs are different and we were careless. He was out for probably 6-7 weeks, mostly inside the house because he kept pulling his stitches/staples. I sometimes wonder if that didn't have something to do with causing a heart issue, because he had to be on particularly strong antibiotics. Nothing could have been done really, but I wish we could go back and give him a better quality of life in those early summer months. Thankfully (now), Cap got hurt, and we had to cancel our trip to Germany. Instead we all packed up for a week-long trip to Lake Tahoe. A wonderful trip, and our last trip. I kept talking about taking another weekend trip to Ebbetts Pass, but I kept putting it off because it was too much of a drive - I was too lazy. Instead I ended up setting jumps at an indoor soccer arena. I could have easily backed out of course building, in fact I considered it probably a dozen times. It's cruel that the smallest decisions can make such a difference.

On Sat, after Karen returned, I had planned on my first agility training with Homer since May. I had put in a new lawn in our backyard so he wouldn't have to run on the dirt any more. I was so looking forward to it, we had patiently waited for weeks for the grass to grow in. I had forbidden the dogs to run on it because they'd create all kinds of divots and kill the new grass. So much better than training in the mud and dust. It is now lush & green.

So that is where we are at. For the most part, we try not to dwell on the negatives. Some regrets. Karen has hers too. Homer could be very persistent in bringing toys while we were watching TV on the couch, and Karen would always shoo him away. I regret putting my own needs above his. We should have taken him more places. We've both resolved to change that aspect of our relationship with the dogs. Much of agility is selfish for the handler, and none of our dogs could be any happier being out & about. At the same time agility bring so much richness to the relationship. So moderation, mix, whatever you want to call it, it will never be one-sided for us again. Homer had many good times at trials too, where he got to run & chase balls, but it's not the same quality of life as being out all day with us, since he was also crated much of the time. We had so many plans with him, but plans aren't real until we find the time to actually do them.

The most precious thing we have is the video clip of Homer playing by the American River. A spontaneous, lovely session. We even saw a sea lion catching salmon. How amazing. I wish I had known at the time.

He changed me so much, for the better. He was not a dog you could ever be impatient with. But when he genuinely felt your love, he would give his heart for you. He was so unusual, responding so strongly just to a little affection. He was such a marvel, learning so quickly. Athletically beautiful - both of us would just be wowed time after time over something he'd do. I lost the best part of me when he went.