Creek Running North

I haven’t been by for a few days, so I’ve just heard. Weeping with you, buddy.

Is “solace” etymologically related to “desolate” and “solitude,” I wonder?

aaahh but you know, dessert in the desert is really tasty, especially when it is made from various honeys of the region… but then there are days when i am a “half glass full” kind of guy (but not evil like that other one).

you never did desert zeke.  sometimes feelings lie to us.  (((( chris ))))

I wish I could say something but there isn’t anything. Except perhaps that he is at peace now and not suffering.

It seems fitting that the words fit together:  they speak of great beauty in a harsh, lonely, indifferent place. 

If there was ever a time to sit in the desert, I’d say this would be it.  Peace and quiet sunrises to you.

I love that people are making donations to their humane societies/shelters in their areas (as I do on a monthly basis here)… and what a tribute to the wonderful dogs/other companions we get from these places! Both of mine are shelter dogs—getting on in years now too…

And Chris and Becky, all of us know what you’re going through (and dread the day we have to face it too)… it’s the pain of loving something as much as we love our companion animals—but the joy they bring us ultimately wins out… and your memories of him will be with you always ...

all my symapthies… may the knowledge that you loved as well as he did bring you some peace and comfort

To inspire. To uplift. To bring hope with tears. I don’t know the origins of these words, just that these are a few things you have provided me through your story and your heart-filled expressions.

My friend Sara told me about your blog. Only just a few days ago. As the emotions intensified, she found herself caught up in not just your emotions, but her own. Sara’s dog Lola is 12. We don’t know when the end will come, and it seems as though it won’t be soon. She seems healthy and vibrant. She has a clean bill of health. But let’s face it, Lola is 12. And at times she doesn’t jump up the stairs with ease. And her back legs shake with arthritis.

Chris, you are teaching Sara how to face the end with courage, whenever it comes, and how to get through it. At the moment, Sara has Zeke’s picture on her computer desktop. At the moment, we are calling her dog LolaZeke in honor of both of you. Your spirit. Your bond.

I have only just begun to visit, to read, to come to know you, and to care. But already I can tell you that I did not sleep well Friday night. I woke up fitfully and thought of Zeke.

There is power in loving well and loving deeply. And Chris, dear man, you have great power.

Chris, I’m a stranger to you, but I’ve been following Zeke’s last weeks with grief and tears. I have a young lab, and I know I’ve gotten on the roller coaster and will feel my stomach drop out from under me when I see the end of his days. I know how I’ll feel--he’s a better dog than I am a person. Were I a dog, I would not greet my human companion with exuberant joy after she left me home alone all day. I would not allow myself to be used as a bed warmer at night if she put up a barrier to keep me out of the bedroom during the day. I would occasionally nip small children.

Console
1. to alleviate or lessen the grief, sorrow, or disappointment of; give solace or comfort [all any of us can hope to do.]

Chris,
I came here via Pharyngula, when you had just gone on hiatus.  I have followed the stories you have shared and I thank you for doing so.  You were as good a friend as Zeke was to you, you loved him as he did you.

You have my sympathies.

(I’m also glad my Dizzie doesn’t need a Puke Duck.)
All thoughts…
MikeG

While many, if not most, have looked at the desert as a place of desolation, charmless as well as joyless, bereft of all that makes one well, abandoned in its very desertedness, you and I know well this is not the case.  Even, or perhaps especially, for those of us who’ve “taken great interest in the surface of things”, there is knowledge of deep strength and resilience in the seemingly fragile and impoverished.  Bedrock may not out-weather rat middens, but the wind she still blows - a physic of the physical, perhaps.  The impermanence of all great creatures serves the furtherance of all in their very demise, though largely they know it not. When coyote calls, who cannot respond?  Desertion is in the eye of the beholder - who knows to what calling we must go?  If you listen to the wind, you will hear many tales, not all your own.  The story is always the same, only the characters change.  What character we have is not ours alone and not ours to keep.  In giving it up and giving it away, we give the best we have.  And, our friends understand.

Within the depths of your own heart is Zeke’s place of eternal rest. The home he’s always known. His sweet face peeks out like a baby Kangaroo in his mother’s pouch. Where ever you go Zeke will be with you.

I absolutely love what Lesley said and believe that it is very true.

With no disrespect to Zeke or your grief, you may find a little balm for your sore heart by watching clips from the pure joy displayed in the Puppy Bowl.

Chris,

I’ve stopped in every day since Saturday to “visit” Zeke through your photographs of him. Apparently I like to torture myself…

I know your heart is breaking and I just want you to know that you and Becky are constantly on my mind, as is Zeke.

Natalie

Still thinking of your family and Zeke.  I know how hard these days must be.

Laura

He is such a good dog. And ‘is’ is the verb, always.

(intermittent reader delurking):

I have nothing to say that others here have not.  I’m just another face in the crowd of mourners, offering you whatever support we can.

...but I hope it can help somehow to know that we ARE a crowd, and that we’re here.

Family of Zeke,

I lost my canine partner of 15 years in the mid eighties.  I was overwhelmed by the absence of toenails clicking on the kitchen linoleum.  To this day, whenever I hear that sound from my present buddy, I get an endorphin rush.  Curious the things we take for granted, and then, not.

Still holding you all in my thoughts,

Sheila

Hey Chris,

I just want to send my love and let you know that I’m still thinkinf of you.

Looking out across an elementary school playyard this morning in the thick freezing fog, i saw a group of seven ravens engaged in a intense and quite lengthy conversation on a large leafless tree.  I knew that such a group of crows was referred to as a murder, but wondered what appropriate referent a group of ravens deserved ("storytelling, conspiracy, and unkindness” are just so not it).  Could they be a genocide, an invasion, a mongol horde, a raging attack??? Etymology notwithstanding, the raven asks only that we acknowledge that it indeed endures, and demonstrates a loyalty to those loved, and a rage against those that threaten.  Go in peace with the ravens.