Creek Running North

I haven’t written about Zeke much lately. The news has been depressing by tiny increments. Our pain control for his arthritis is losing effectiveness. His stiffness is getting more marked, his back legs less cooperative. Last month Becky came home to find him splayed on the hardwood floor. Who knows how long he’d been there? I went to the Home Despot the next day, bought ten yards of carpet runner, made pathways across the house for him. He keeps to them now, and they grow a patina of hair and crumbs.

Walking down to the park each morning is a slog that takes an hour. His optimal walking time is between three and six in the morning. After that his joints seize up. Even when he’s limber his front feet pull him faster than his back feet can follow. This is a dog that has never walked in his life, unless he’s being summoned somewhere he really doesn’t want to go. His typical, relaxed, no-particular-hurry pace these past years has always been a canter. That’s what he still wants to do despite the arthritis.

So his front end leaps over curbs, and his back end stumbles, and he falls in the street. If he walked, he would be fine. He just doesn’t know how. Except going back uphill, of course, and that is a forced march. He looks surprised at the pain, as if each day is a fresh betrayal.

But he wants to go anyway. He waits impatiently for me to drink the coffee, button the pants, get the leash. I did the math today: Zeke and I have walked at least 2,500 miles together between my first and third cups of coffee in the morning. Some traditions you do not alter just because of a little ache.

We increased the frequency of the Adequan injections that are his primary pain control, and the vet will show us next week how to inject it ourselves. Zeke will be patient with it, as he has been with everything else: the cone collar, the cleaning of abscesses, the baths and the general prodding.

Sunday he slept all day. I asked him for a walk and he said no. The niece came to visit and he lacked the energy to escape her. Adoring two-year-olds can drain a dog. Sophie understood, after an short explanation, and let him sleep. He woke at midnight, as usual. I got out of bed to let him out. And to let him in. And to let him out at two.

Yesterday, Monday morning, he had a peculiar sparkle in his eyes, a familar one. I offered him a snack. He wagged his tail hard. We dressed and went downhill. The park crew wasn’t working, and I let him off the leash. We passed the flower beds, examining each shrub for messages, and walked toward the feral cat colony on the creek. And doubled back and headed for the baseball field.

Zeke looked at the broad outfield. It was a bright expanse of grass as flat as Fresno. He looked back at me, a toothy grin growing. He caught my eye and began to run.

It was not a smooth run, not even as much as he could manage six months ago. His back legs still syncopated his stride, and they went out from under him a little on the turns, which he made as sharp as when he was a pup. It used to be he could dodge the jaws of the most determined pitbull, outmaneuver the most highly caffeinated terrier. He still thinks he can turn that sharp, as if inertia was something only other dogs need contend with, and for ten minutes yesterday morning he was mainly right.

Twenty-five hundred miles is not nearly enough. The numbers reach astonishing heights by increment. Five cubic yards of hair brushed off his flank, two tons of shit in little plastic bags. A neighbor drove by last week as I stood there bag in hand. He commented on the hassle of cleaning up. It won’t be long and I’ll be wishing I had more of Zeke’s shit to clean, grieving that no one will drag me from a warm bed three times a night, longing for that aching slow trod up Buena Vista Avenue.

Yesterday I worked at home. Zeke slept after his run. I went to the store, bought paper and a ruler to design the shed out back. I sat on the porch with pad and pencil. He came to me, looked milky eyes into mine, placed his forehead against mine. His tail wagged.

Happy birthday, Zeke.