desolate
c.1374, “without companions,” also “uninhabited,” from L. desolatus, pp. of desolare “leave alone, desert*,” from de- “completely” + solare “make lonely.” Sense of “joyless” is 15c.
* desert (n.1)
“wasteland,” c.1225, from O.Fr. desert, from L.L. desertum, lit. “thing abandoned” (used in Vulgate to translate “wilderness”), n. use of neut. pp. of L. deserere “forsake” (see desert (v.)). Sense of “waterless, treeless region” was in M.E. and gradually became the main meaning. Commonly spelled desart in 18c., which is not etymological but at least avoids confusion with the other two senses of the word. Desertification was coined 1973 (desertization was used in 1968).
desert (n.2)
“suitable reward or punishment” (now usually plural and just), 1297, from O.Fr. deserte, pp. of deservir “be worthy to have,” from L. deservire “serve well” (see deserve).
desert (v.)
“to leave,” c.1380, from O.Fr. deserter “leave,” lit. “undo or sever connection,” from L.L. desertare, freq. of L. deserere “to abandon,” from de- “undo” + serere “join” (see series). Military sense is first recorded 1647.
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?
you never did desert zeke. sometimes feelings lie to us. (((( chris ))))
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
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
He is such a good dog. And ‘is’ is the verb, always.
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.