Creek Running North

Oh majesterial neat-eater Zeke: damn the bees.

such a good pup.

His Zekeness is so Zen. 

Dontcha love it when they completely ignore your requests?  (The noive!)

I wonder what dogs think about.

I like how he gingerly approached his food, delicately licked it and then gulped chunks it down, dropping pieces.

I wanted to reach in and point at the food he missed. How did he miss this bit and not that bit?

Zeke, I wish I could eat a half a plate of food and walk away.

The plush tail on him!  Wow.

He’s insanely beautiful.

Handsome, handsome boy.  He comes to you like my dog to me, in his own good time, or not.  Too busy sniffing the air, being himself. 

Why are dogs so much fun to watch?  Thanks for the video, it shows his tail to advantage.  He sure was a good lookin’ guy.

Lesley, you could probably walk away from a plate of food if it was covered with bees and you could only eat by pushing your face into the food.

This was from a time, summer 2004, when we were just getting used to his being deaf. I think the only thing I said that he heard at all was that whistle.

Sweet doggie!  (((kiss kiss kiss!)))

Chris, you are torturing yourself, though.  :( You break MY heart with this stuff, and I didn’t even KNOW your sweet doggie.  :(

Please take care of your head, as we used to say.

deaf or not, those are some gorgeously expressive good-dog ears...what a love.

Tito was just like that. Sometimes I wanted to yell “Tito, stop screwing around and bolt your goddam food like a REAL dog!”

Wish I had some video of him, ‘stead of just still pics.

hey, he really had quite a snazzy tail design going!

looks like a very kind and sweet soul.

Chris, just wanted you to know that today has been a hellish day for me too, in terms of grief.  Reading your blog for the past few months has helped me A LOT, in that you have assured me there is no regulation-grief period.  I come from a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps culture: wipe your eyes and get on with it.  And you know, I always could.  Until now.  I simply was not prepared for grief that lasts and lasts.  It seems to come from deep inside, not from our conscious minds at all. 

Various people have acted as if I was supposed to (((snap fingers))) be over it by now, and I would think to myself:  Chris Clarke still grives over his doggie, so I guess I can grieve over my mother! So thank you, for giving me permission.  I’m quite serious.

And see, you didn’t even know what good you had done. :)

Again, my thanks to you.

PS:  my apologies if I annoyed you at Pandagon.  I’m sure it’s all related, which is no excuse, but is just pretty obvious even to me. 

Life is suffering.

You feel what you feel. Period.

Daisy, don’t fret about Pandagon. There are plenty of regulars over there who advanced the argument you did in the past, and it’s never been a particularly Kumbaya-filled joint.

The only person whose blandishments to “get over it” you need to pay attention to is you, and that only to tell yourself to give yourself a break. You’ll know when it’s time to move on.

Just don’t cheat yourself of the joy mixed in with the suffering, is all.

Five cents, please.

Five cents, please.

:D

aw, daisy.  i’m sorry about your mom.  anniversaries particularly suck.  xoxo

Oh, Chris.  He was such a good dog, wasn’t he?

I know it’s horribly selfish of me to say so, but I’m very glad to have seen both Zeke in motion, and to hear (finally) what you sound like.

When he hopped up into the house at the end, I could imagine him walking off to a new place, one where he will wait for you.  If it’s at all possible, I know that he would.

“torturing myself”

Yes.  I recently laid out a book in iPhoto of all my pictures of my old dog Tober.  The two-year anniversary of his death is less than one month away.  There weren’t nearly enough digital photos and I never have gotten the scanner going right.

You know, a few months after Mira died I found some videos of her and played them.

Sputnik heard my recorded voice calling her name, and his ears perked up as he looked around hopefully for her.

That one still hurts to remember now, and it’s been four years.