From the introduction:
Zeke could wake me from a sound sleep by staring silently, his desire fully infiltrating my heart. A thousand times, in play, he would lunge for my face and snap, his bite strong enough that it would have disfigured me if he had not stopped short by a quarter inch. And I never flinched once, even when his whiskers grazed my face. I trusted him implicitly, and he me. On his last night, the pain of his arthritis grown more than the drugs could mask, I lifted him the wrong way and it hurt him, and he clamped his jaws around my face. It was the merest touch, tips of his fangs resting softly against my eyelids, and then he pulled away. Even in his blinding, terminal agony he would not harm me.
Walking with Zeke, an edited compilation of several years of writing about my best friend’s life and death, is now available for sale. Softcover, 218 pages, $17.95 US, ISBN 978-0-6151-9611-4.
It will be available through online bookstores and by order at your local independent store soon, but you can buy it here right now. (And I get a bigger cut this way.)
Tell your friends.
