Winslow Homer is a Labrador Retriever. He resides with my wife, Trish, and I, on twelve acres of land located in the foothills of the Kittatinny Mountains. He’s been our constant companion for thirteen-and-a-half years. Old for a big dog. First to turn white was the black fur around his paws, causing Trish to call him “Socks.” His belly and rump were the next to go, followed by the fur over his eyes and around and under his jaw. A most distinguished gentleman by any standard.

We lost his ...