Zeke’s popularity among readers of this blog has been a great help to me in the last months. I can never repay the kindnesses you have shown, and I will always be grateful.
I’m not going to be writing about him here anymore, at least not in the manner in which I have been. He may pop up as a character in a story here and there, but he won’t be the subject of any more posts.
Writing for one’s audience is a tempting thing, and I don’t think it’s entirely a bad impulse. There’s been another dog at work here, one owned by a guy named Pavlov. People comment more on the Zeke posts, and I find myself responding to that in choosing what to write about.
Someone once referred to the writing I do here as being in the “open a vein and bleed through the keyboard” mode, or something similar. It’s not a bad description of the way I write, for good or ill. There are drawbacks to the technique. Writing about one’s experience of the inevitable sorrow in one’s life inevitably opens the door to people who will tell you you’re not feeling the proper emotions. My patience for that sort of response is thin enough at the best of times. Yesterday it made me want to do violence to my computer.
There is enough sentiment these days out in the blog world, attached to arguments I have studiously avoided, that by the act of writing a blog one is obligated to write about certain things: the underreported political issue of the moment, the taking of sides in inter-blog arguments. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you know how I feel about that assumption of obligation. It’s enough these days to utterly deprive me of the desire to write about anything political. Pile upon that the assertion that my feeling of loss, as expressed in a post, is egotistical because it doesn’t fit someone’s personal religious beliefs (based on a shallow misinterpretation of zen aphorisms at that) and I come close to tossing this thing out onto the Wayback Machine scrap heap.
Besides, even I’m getting bored with my whining about my dead dog.
So I’m taking him backstage again: he is, after all, my dead dog and not the Internet’s. To all of you who have sent their best wishes, commiseration, shared grief and shared stories, I can’t express how grateful I am. You truly touched us.
When I feel like writing about something else, it’ll show up here.
Chris,
I’m sorry that the intertubes made your day rather more difficult yesterday.
I, for one, have enjoyed (odd word, given the circumstance) the porthole into your grief for Zeke - I appreciate your willingness to be naked with your pain. You are a true human being, and I mean that with all admiration.
Your writing continues to inspire, and your knowledge of the natural world and your neck of the woods is awe-inspiring. Would that I knew South Texas like you know your home turf! Now that’s something to aspire to…
I hope you will continue to write about that - and about Zeke… once in a while
{{{hugs}}}
chris-
this is your blog. write about whatever your heart desires! poop on those who leave rude comments.
i found you on march 15th-
you had me from the first words in the post;
‘roots sunk into my heart..’
i was meant to find you-
- i appreciate your transparency - i identify and empathize, and i am continually impressed by the quality and content of your posts.
your stunning writings take me away
to a very special place.
don’t be gone to long.
i need you and i love it here…
i feel you on the internet’s social dynamics. and on keeping some things precious at some moments. and that’s a precious thing you have there. keep it well, in the way you deem best.
see you soon?
I love reading whatever it is you write. and am always grateful that you haven’t quit.
I didn’t know who you were. I had no idea who Zeke was. But I chanced onto this blog and read of your grief for him, and it spoke to the grief I carry for much-loved animal companions, and I stayed.
Mom used to say, “You love people; you don’t love animals.” She was wrong. You love where you find life and beauty and returned love. And part of that love is being open to the pain of losing it all.
Zeke will always be a part of you. Joy and grief intertwined. I’m glad you are free to express that; it makes us all more real.
People comment more on subjects where they feel they have something to add. We’ve all had pets, ergo we all have something to add to the subject.
Amanda: yep. Well, I still have a rabbit to write about.
There are maybe 10 blogs I go to for the writing alone—I’ll echo the others in saying that I don’t care what you write on so long as you keep writing.
Amanda’s right. I’d add to that only that a certain subset of people also interpret another’s show of vulnerability as a chance for them to leap in and help. What Spinning Liz called “Helpy Helpertons.”
Whether you want, need, or ever solicited that help becomes immaterial. They are all about the helping and the teaching and the spreading of enlightenment.
No, no: You can’t write about what you want to write about. Not until you’ve finished eating your enlightment!
People like that don’t deserve to know anything about Zeke.
New blog with a post right up your alley, Chris—love, humans, animals (non-bestiality) with a pointer to a long discussion on a group blog of note (they’re medievalists, so I think it’s safe to read).
I agree with rose. It’s your blog. It’s your writing. Do whatever you want.
Amanda says: We’ve all had pets, ergo we all have something to [write about] the subject....
And some of us have stranger pets than others to write about.
Illegitimi non carborundum, Chris.
Knowing him from your writing, I will always feel slightly smug that I actually got to meet, and briefly hug, Zeke.
I think the Evil Powers deliberately saw to it that Tito the Mighty Hunter and Zeke were at opposite ends of the country, in fear that the two of them coming together would bring on everlasting cool, sunny days, neverending hikes, showers of beef jerky, and crystal clear mountain streams. Plus permanent rainbows, rampant butterflies, and endless iterations of the Fifth Dimension singing “Aquarius.”
All your offerings here are gratefully received, Chris, even if, the intertubes being what they are, they do draw a few bugs.
Your dog; your blog; your generosity in sharing your knowledge, your sensibilities and your lovely writing.
But due recognition to peacebug for most unintentionally ironic use of the word “egocentric” I’ve seen in some time.
Hiya, Chris. I’m sorry someone pissed you off; there are lots of jerks out there.
I just wanted to thank you for your posts about Zeke; they are beautiful and personally helpful.
I can’t believe Sollie’s in a hole, either. I keep wanting to dig him up. Death sits on all our front porches, memories wait in the back.
You know I’m new to your site, but I’ve found all that I’ve read to be compelling. I hope you won’t stay away too long. Best wishes to you.
If people are uptight when they read what you say it’s because what you say makes them uncomfortable.
Please don’t cater to these thoughtless idiots. The world, as we know, is filled to bursting with imbeciles. Please just write what you want to write. Pretend it’s not the Internet. That it’s a book you close and put in a drawer until you’re inclined to write in it again.
One solution might be to close comments. Seriously. Especially since comments cause these problems. There’s nothing more freeing than that.
Besides, even I’m getting bored with my whining about my dead dog.
Friend, I haven’t detected any whining yet. And I have a finely tuned whineometer.
When I last suffered a loss, I sobbed every day for over a year. Good thing there wasn’t the intertubes yet, because the danged thing would’ve flooded.
Grief takes as long as it takes, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no right way to grieve.
And thanks to Ilyka for introducing me to Helpy Helpertons—useful idea as I bumble through life.
I came to this blog via a link to your story about the murderer; dropped in occasionally thereafter for the writing; then got completely swept up into the Zeke Chronicles.
I don’t know very many other bloggers who are as nakedly honest and incredible, evocative writers as you are.
I don’t always comment. But I’ll always come around to see what you’ve got to say.
I visit often and you are in the top 3 of must-sees every day. When you are writing your super-smart posts on nature and the million other things you know I am at a loss for adding anything other than “How do I keep what you have told me on tap in the front of my consciousness?” When you are so personally and emotionally brave as to be totally honest about everything that has ever happened to you it is galvanizing. If you can handle the truth everybody else should, too. And Zeke is so totally the “truth.” There is before-Zeke, there is during Zeke and now there is after Zeke but always there is Zeke.
Oh, oh … don’t tell me I really stirred up this kind of ruckus …?
Wow … then I’m quite happy I wrote what I wrote …
Oh, yes, and this for more than one reason:
First of all: YOU ARE ALL PERFECTLY RIGHT!
Yes, I agree with all of you that Chris can write on his blog about what HE wants!
He wants to write about his beliefs, his interests … his grief? Perfect!
And yes: he’s a very good writer! Some of the finest writing in the internet world!
On the other side he’s doing it in the form of a blog, which means that it’s open to comments.
Commenters do not always have to agree on what’s written in the post. And also, they do not always have to agree with each other, as you are showing me right now, good!
Secondly: if my comment made you react and even “delurk�… then I’m happy!
Go on writing! Please! Yes! You’re angry at me? You feel supportive of Chris? Write!
Because – as probably most of you, who are keeping blogs, know – there isn’t a more frustrating thing than to write and prepare something, to see afterwards the visits-counter going up, up, up … and no comments appearing … so please: write! Now, but also in future!
I don’t think I’m that much … some of you came around to explore my blog and you have seen: I’m no “Ivy league writer� or watchamacallit … You think that my comment made Chris change his mind about what he should write? Then you have a higher opinion about me than myself!
I wanted to “shake� things up, a little: I’m quite uncomfortable about people growing poisonous organisms or feelings … this can easily lead to accidents … this is just my personal opinion, I know. Apparently I shook too much and some felt hurt. I’m sorry: I didn’t want to hurt people. I had a dog myself, I had to put it down at the age of 15, after 13 years of traveling together along life’s road … he taught me much. He was a “bastard�, a mongrel … he was a nice, well behaved dog I could take everywhere with me, but … but in need he would bite … in need … as a last resort.
So “don’t let the bastards grind you down�?
No, don’t! React, write, live!
… and if needed, I’ll be the “biting bastard� you can kick, if that is what it’s needed to shake things up!
Chris: I’m in support of what you wrote in this post and I’m looking forward to read, here, your newest ideas again, soon!
Cheers!
(please imagine now a grin full of white, sharp teeth! ;-) )
yubi, you can shut up now. in my opinion.
Yubi, on the Italian side of my family, everyone gets in each other’s business all the time, and that’s fine. The expectations are different, the boundaries are in different places. But what works as pushy but caring behavior in that group can be very hurtful and obnoxious in other groups, like the Midwestern Presbyterians on the other side of my family. I think you are being hurtful and obnoxious here.
I grew up a Midwestern Presbyterian, and I have to say that Tsunami makes total and complete sense.
Oops, in the above comment I clicked on “submit” instead of “preview.” I am possibly the person who is most guilty of commenting only on Zeke posts. But I’ll keep checking in here regularly whether Zeke is mentioned or not.
(Slightly off-topic, maybe):
I’d love to see a post about a recent desert trip of yours. Which would involve taking one. In the heat. Only if you want to…
Yubi, fuck off, okay?
I look forward to whatever’s next.
This fella Yubi did apologize. Why the vitriol, directed at his apology even?
Not that he needed to apologize. Mr. Clarke is no wilting flower. He can take a little razzzing.
Desert essays much appreciated.
Even an archives-only Zeke whips
any ten ordinary dogs.
And a Z-less CRN whips any ten
ordinary blogs.
Also, a personal thanks for the link to Dr. Smith, who helped us out this month when there was no more terriering or even any QoL for our little old mutt.
You writing inspires me to be more observant of my surroundings even if they are urban or suburban.
Frequently it makes me want to know more plants. I can see the plants and appreciate their aesthetic qualities but your writing gives a glimpse into their inner life. You’re like Barbara Walters but for plants and with dirtier fingernails and more radical politics and a dearth of soft focus lenses.
Sir - you are missed.
hugs and healing thoughts from PA
connie
*sending good desert-y thoughts your way*
Hi, Chris.
I miss your writing here.
Shorter Yubi: I’m one of the asshole commenters on the intertubes who needlessly stirs shit up.
Missing Chris, hoping he’s doing well…
Sravana
There’s an Irish saying that sums up loss—
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.
Love leaves memories no one can steal.
Zeke has left lots of wonderful memories…
authormom—that is a wonderful irish saying!
the irish saying my dad left me with was: “there is no excuse but death.” he had a whole ream of small fliers printed on parchment-like paper [in beautiful and indescipherable script that he said was celtic], and i’m almost certain he did it when he knew he was dying, although he passed them out with great humor. so elegant: a joke, a truth, and an apology, all in one.
this is possibly the first time anyone has called my dad elegant, and he is coming up on four years gone. i’m not done figuring him out yet, much less the ways our lives have intertwined.
I hope you get a new dog to write about. I’ve been reading for Zeke. He died a few months before my girl. It helped me prepare for her passing and I was grateful for the referral to Rainbow Bridge. It is much better to die at home with family. I now have another dog from Northern California Border Collie Rescue. Dogs are a joy.
Nancy, if there’s anything that has made losing Zeke easier to bear, it’s knowing that several of the folks who read about Zeke took advantage of Dr. Smith’s availability. He really is a treasure, and I’m so grateful to him.
Congrats on your new doggy. I love border collies. It’s gonna be a while for us. (I didn’t even want a dog in the first place. Zeke was just… Zeke.)