Home on the Range

John Liz Dodson of Boise, Idaho, wrote:

"Homer was about 18 years old when he died. He was in fact a stray. We had just lost our sweet cat Phoebe to diabetes. We were heart broken. On July 4th, after fun with friends, we were laying in bed and heard this loud, but young, meow. It went on and on and Liz finally got out of bed and went out to find this tiny little kitten in the middle of the street. She scooped him up, fed him, and then put him outside in the backyard hoping he would go back home. The next morning when we got up we opened the back door, no kitty. Good, we were both still pretty traumatized by the death of Phoebe. But as Liz went to close the door the sweet little kitty crawled out from the shelf of the BBQ. At that moment we knew he was home and so did he."

"Our neighbor who had goats, pigs, dogs and chickens told us that Homer guarded all his animals. He would stroll through his yard like he owned it! First time we ever had a male cat. He was so smart and sweet. When I would be out digging in the garden, Homer always insisted on getting in the hole to help!"

"One thing that stands out was he was a hunter and when he caught a mouse he would bring it home, but he would eat the whole thing except for the liver. Somehow he ate around the liver. So we would find these little mouse livers around the garage and patio. And, Homer loved our friend Mary Ann Newcomer's dog, Lily. Homer followed Lily around our yard and would rub his head on Lily like cats do when you are filling the bowl of food! It was amazing"