My brother, Marty, recently returned home to Savannah, Ga., after a three-week stay with me. Marty retired in Savannah after several decades of service to the U.S. Air Force, including tours overseas during Operation Desert Storm.

I don’t see Marty very often. He is pretty much a stay-at-home type of guy.

Marty has lived alone all of his life, and now, in his early 50s, that’s not likely to change. He is very set in his ways. But aren’t we all to some extent?

He visits Lampasas every couple of years, and he has developed a fondness for this community -- and especially for Spring Ho.

He has Spring Ho special editions from the newspaper dating back further than even the newspaper files do, both pre- and post-Spring Ho sections.

And I added one more to his collection this year.

The difference this Spring Ho season is that Marty didn’t get to see or do everything he wanted to. He spent much of his time driving my car back and forth to Killeen to an auto dealership in the dealership’s continuing efforts to determine my vehicle’s problem.

Marty even missed the Spring Ho Grand Parade, which he really looks forward to each time he visits. But the car needed to be in Killeen early on Spring Ho Saturday morning, and again, Marty volunteered to take it for me while I was occupied with taking festival photos for the newspaper.

In addition to handling my car, Marty pretty much took care of my two dachshunds while I was at work. When I am away, Otto and Gulliver stay in a large kennel. But when Marty is at the house, the dogs have the run of the place. And they can make a real mess.

One of the biggest differences between my brother and me is that he loves cats, and I love dogs. Marty hasn’t lived with dogs in a very long time, and mine can be very -- let’s say -- challenging.

Otto was paralyzed several years ago, and though he has regained quite a bit of movement in his back quadrant, his “potty” skills aren’t what they used to be.

Marty affectionately calls Otto “Sidewinder” because of the dog’s slow, sideways gait. You have to have a lot of patience when dealing with Otto, because he moves at the speed of snail. But at least he still moves -- as do his potty parts, whenever and wherever they want.

Poor Otto still seems surprised -- and embarrassed -- when he realizes he made a mess on the floor.

And Marty comes right behind Otto to clean it up. Though he uses about a roll of paper towels a day, I appreciate my brother’s efforts. I know he’d rather be around cats -- and not cleaning up after my dogs.

My weenie dogs basically deserted me from the moment Marty stepped through the front door until he dragged his suitcase onto the porch.

The dogs spent much of their time cozying up to Marty expecting belly rubs and cookies -- both of which he willingly provided.

Wherever my brother was, that’s where the dogs were. They waited outside the bathroom door when he showered, and they sat by the desk when he was on the computer. They even laid on the rug by the front door waiting while Marty spent several hours in my swing chair on the porch listening to news and talk radio on his headphones for several hours at a time.

My dogs are as devoted to Marty as if he were a permanent fixture in my home. They love him as much as they do me, and I’m the one who has been paying their bills for years. But the dogs are good judges of character, and they know a gentle soul when they see one.

Marty, I am sorry you missed so much of Spring Ho. But if you come back next year, I promise to try to make it up to you. Hopefully, my car will be running better.

I look forward to seeing you again. I know Sidewinder and Gulliver will be waiting, too.

Lisa Carnley is managing editor of the Lampasas Dispatch Record.