LOVE IS

                                                        HOMER    ca. 1996-2011

    "Like had been replaced by love. And love was the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him
where like he had never gone. And responsive, out his deeps, had come the new thing-love. That which he was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, a love god, a warm and radiant god, in whose nature White Fang expanded as a flower expanded under the sun.
     But White Fang was not demonstrative. He was too old, too firmly molded, to become expressing himself in new ways. He was too self-possessed, too strongly poised in his isolation. Too long he had cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. He had never barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark a welcome when his master approached. He was never in the way, never extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love. He never ran to meet his god. He waited at a distance, but he always waited, was always there. His love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, inarticulate, a silent adoration. Only by the steady regard of his eyes did he express his love, and by the unceasing following of his eyes, of his god's every movement. Also at times, when his god looked at him, and spoke to him, he betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical inability to express it.
    He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. It was borne in upon him that he must let his master's dogs alone. Yet his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash them into an acknowledgement of his superiority and leadership. This accomplished, he had little trouble with them. They gave trail to him when he came and went or walked among them, and when he asserted his will, they obeyed.
   In the same way, he came tolerate Matt-as a possession of his master. His master rarely fed him; Matt did that, it was his business; yet White Fang divined that it was his master's food he ate, and that it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. Matt it was who tried to put him into the harness and make him haul sled with the other dogs. But Matt failed. It was not until Weedon Scott put the harness on White Fang, and worked him, that he understood. He took it as his master's will that Matt should drive him and work him just as he worked and drove the master's other dogs.
   Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with runners under them. And different was the method of driving the dogs. There was no fan-formation of the team. The dogs worked in single-file, one behind the other, hauling on double traces. And here, in the Klondike, the leader was indeed the leader, and the team obeyed him and feared him; the wisest, as well as the strongest dog was the leader. That White Fang should quickly gain the post was inevitable. He could not be satisfied with less, after Matt learned with much inconvenience and trouble. White Fang picked out the post for himself, and Matt backed his judgement with strong language after the experiment had been tried. But, though he worked in the sled during the day, White Fang did not forego the guarding of his master's property in the night. Thus he was on duty all of the time, ever vigilant and faithful, the most valuable of the dogs."  Jack London, WHITE FANG, 1906.

The Alaska Progressive Review, and our friends and family, were saddened by the passage of our enduring, warm, and gentle research assistant, Homer, earlier this week. He lost his will to live after suffering through great arthritis pain, and looming incapacitation. But he was always an inspiration to us, with his strong presence, quiet dignity, and great courage.

Very little is known about Homer's childhood. It was said by my friend Rebecca Chandler's ex-husband, Eric Nicolier, who was a musher, that he had been obtained from the Athabascan village of Tanana, northeast of Fairbanks, at an early age. Which probably explains his wolfiness, some wolves must have mingled in those Tanana sled dogs at some point, and bred with them. Which can happen anywhere in the state, where there are large open mushing kennels.

Homer served as Erik's lead dog on their team, when they completed the grueling 13-day Yukon Quest, sled dog race, the toughest in the World, in 2000. Much colder, with steeper terrain at times, from Fairbanks to Whitehorse, in Mid-February, than the Iditarod in western Alaska, which is in March. Temperatures of -25 to -45C are common most of the time, most years. Eric made another attempt in 2004 with Homer as lead, but complications from four female team-mates coming into heat simultaneously, interrupted their bid.
http://www.yukonquest.com/site/about-yukon-quest/

I first met Homer in 2001, when I befriended Rebecca Chandler, in Fairbanks that year. I immediately was captivated, he was truly imposing, in his role as alpha male of all the 34 dogs her husband Eric had. He enforced a harsh discipline from the other dogs, but never unfairly, or excessively. When Eric and Rebecca split up in 2005, Homer became Rebecca and 5-year old daughter Isabel's family dog, and guardian.
I always looked forward to seeing him those years, when he was in charge of their security. He still retained more of his wolfish craftiness then, often getting in trouble for getting into or stealing things. Rebecca and Isabel left Fairbanks for better opportunities in Oregon, in 2008, and Homer wound up at a new home. When Rebecca came back to visit Fairbanks in June, 2009, she took him back. He wasn't getting any attention, just tied up out back most of the time. She brought him over to me, he was about 6-7 kg overweight, had no real spark, and was seemingly becoming disconnected from life.
Rebecca asked if I could take him in. I jumped at the chance, I've always admired him. This is what he looked like just a week after that, while we were dipnetting for salmon on the Copper River with our friend Erik. Homer was still overweight, and a little distant. But after a few more weeks of slowly increasing runs, good food, and lots of attention, he lost the weight, and, his spark returned.

From that point on, he was fully engaged as the beautiful, gentle, and protective companion he became to us for the next two years.

He loved our pack trips to places like the weird ancient weathered outcroppings on 1610 metre Mt. Prindle, 120 KM east of Fairbanks in September, 2009. Probably his most interesting trip, and one of our most enjoyable, was our Labour Day weekend 2009 canoe/packraft float a few weeks before, from the Tangle Lakes west of Paxson, out through the Delta River, onto the Richardson Highway, near Black Rapids.

About 48 km of canoeing, with Erik and his son Shane, and daughter Megan, over three days. Homer had never been in a canoe, and behaved admirably. Never moving or causing any instability. Mattie was not so well-behaved, and was escorted out of the canoe occasionally, where she instead swam with her lifejacket on. While I followed behind in my packraft. I was amazed. But he is very intelligent. I only ever had to go to a place once with him, and the second time, he always would remember where we were.

He loved all our winter expeditions, no matter how cold, always happy and healthy all day in temperatures down to -35C.

Once we moved to Anchorage in May, 2010, he quickly grew to enjoy our runs and hikes in our adjoining Chugach mountains, where he was completely at home and in his element.

He started to slow down a little this past winter, and had to have two operations, to have leg tumors removed, in February, and June. But he never wanted to stop or slow down.

He even made it to the top of 1620 metre The Ramp, in July, a steep, rocky trek up in the fog across loose talus. In all our trips, he was very wise in his decisions and encounters, with traps, snares, porcupines, moose, and black and brown bears. Which Mattie was still learning, but has, under his guidance.

Just over three weeks ago, as we were running down our daily trail, the trail to Konoya Point, a sow black bear and two cubs came strolling up. He and Mattie immediately got between us, and escorted the bears away from the trail, with him in front! They came back a minute later in perfect shape.

His last pack trip with us, three weeks ago, in the Talkeetna mountains, enabled him for one last time to be out in his element, free to do as wished, completely unfettered. He greatly enjoyed this, for which we are all greatful.

We know he is now happy, pain-free, and running again, as long and as far as he can, in the Next World. We will always remember his over two years of loyal, affectionate presence with us as our research assistant, as he helped us in all our daily endeavours, and helped protect us from all the hazards we face here. Run in Peace Homer!