And I laughed and laughed.
He was a Yellow Lab, I met him when he was 8 months or so old, just been rescued by my BFF a few days earlier. I came into her house, all “OH MY GOD, PUPPY!” and got down on the floor. He came flying across the room and knocked me ass over tea kettle. I howled with laughter as he proceeded to lick my face, eat my hair and generally be a wild and crazy puppy.
He was a handful. She took him to training classes, more than one. She once took him to dog park, where he dragged her across the grass, through the mud and proceeded to get into a fight with another dog while she was holding the leash. (It ended without injury to anyone except her pride.) (That was his only trip to dog park) He never liked male dogs who hadn’t been neutered. Consequently, he and Maverick never got to be friends. We wanted to get them together often, hoping that by the time Maverick’s puppy pass expired, Zeke would have accepted him, but circumstances conspired to keep that from happening and neither of us was willing to take the chance later on.
He was the best of friends with Max. They shared peanut butter bones, toys, and adventures in the front yard. Zeke stole Max’s toys from the car and Max let him do it. He was the bestest of good boys – if he liked you. If he didn’t like you, get away and do it now. I guess he was a lot like me in that way.
Max went to the Bridge one terrible day. A month or so later, my dear friends gathered together and gave me several gifts, a picture, a set of wind chimes, a framed poem. I sobbed. The puppy – who was no longer a puppy, of course – who never tolerated hugs, came to me, sat in my lap and let me sob into his fur. My best friend took a picture – because she takes pictures of everything but also because this was something that had never before happened. Zeke would allow a brief, loose hug from some, but this was full out, clinging to him, bawling, while he calmly licked my tears away.
Years went by and Zeke slowed down. The terror that he could be was replaced by an old gentleman – who still had his moments – but who no longer chased our cars to the edge of the driveway (a game we all played with him) or went for long walks. HIs legs grew weak, and his mom did everything in her power to keep him strong and healthy.
But the day came, as it always does, way too soon. Zeke went to the Bridge one awful Tuesday a month ago. I believe Max was waiting for him, with a stuffed ball (the only toy he didn’t destroy was a stuffed ball I gave him last Christmas, which had another toy inside and he never pulled out) and a peanut butter bone.
Run free, my boys, run free. There will never be another like you, sweet Zekers.



