The kill

It doesn't matter what time it is; it could be 3 A.M. or 4 in the afternoon. The time just does not matter. Once a day, he must kill. He must feel the life flee his victims' body, sink his teeth into the very heart of the beast, and end its uneventful life. At least once every day. He pounces upon the beast, it struggles to break free, but it simply cannot. The attacker sinks his claws into the beast and the beast struggles. It cannot fight back. The attacker is too strong. Alas, it gives into the creeping unconsciousness and surrenders to death. As the beast lets go of its last breath, it no longer feels the vicious claws twitching into its flesh or the razor sharp teeth at its throat. It feels only the blissfulness of slumber taking it away. The killer is pleased. The rush of adrenaline and ability to unleash his rage leaves him content. He stays with the body. Admiring it, caressing it; and lets the beautiful slumber take him to a peaceful rest.

Well, that's what Zeke thinks he's doing. The "beast"? My red fleece blanket, complete with white and pink hearts. Somehow it ended up being "his". Everyday he has to pretend it's his "kill". I think he just likes the feel of in his mouth, much like toddlers do. I myself had a blankie like many children. I loved the texture of it, rolling it between my fingers or on my lip. I always wonder what goes through his mind when he does it. He sure acts like he's killing it. He rolls it into a thick bundle and bites it, usually holding it down with his paws, which gently twitch into it. After the long "fight" and "struggle" he gets sleepy. Sometimes falling asleep with it in his mouth. If I interrupt him he squeaks like, "Momma nooooo! It's my kill. And I'm winning!" Or "Momma, I'm busy." Okay, kiddo. Have at it. Sometimes (I guess) after a long day of being Zeke, it's like he has to take out all his frustration on it, which is why I call it his kill. I love watching his little cheeks puff in and out as he holds onto the ratty thing. Cutest thing ever. So yes, my son has a blankie, and it is his kill.

Le basics

I haven't shared the beginning of Zeke's story yet, though I've been wanting to. The story is tucked away in a lovely Microsoft word document on my computer; I rarely use it because I have an iPod touch. So when I get to it, it will be shared. But here's a little about me and the basics.

I have four dogs. Three German shepherds (my children) and the family husky/chow mix. Ages 3, 3 and a half, 6, and 10. I also have four cockatiels and 12 chickens. I suffer from a chronic headache (now going on five years) and sciatic at the moment. So I might go ranting about my med problems every now and then. I crochet, draw, and daydream in my spare time and some day hope to be a vet. Being a veterinarian has been my dream job since I knew what an animal was. I was always the kid that wanted to play with the neighbor's or extended family's pet and rescue injured birds. Yet I didn't get my first real pet until I was seven. Again, that's another story. Other than that, I'm a high school graduate waiting to go into college to study veterinary medicine. Just your average, spiteful, rambling, and ranting young adult. What's new right?

The birthday boy

"Animal lovers are a special breed of humans, generous of spirit, full of empathy, perhaps a little prone to sentimentality, and with hearts as big as a cloudless sky."--John Grogan "Marley & Me"

I will admit that some of us animal lovers go overboard. Some of us will buy our pets designer outfits, expensive jewelry, high-quality ingredient dinners (ie ribeye steaks, lobster, imported fruits), or other expensive unnecessary luxuries. But I am cheap. I call it being frugal; I'm a DIY person and enjoy learning things along the way. I do want what's best for my kids, but I also want to do it within my budget (though I will admit to buying porterhouse cuts for my kids!).

Just last week was Zeke's third birthday. I swear the little booger just knows what's going on. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. He wanted us to sing "happy birthday" to him. Oh, sweet baby Jesus. And then he didn't want us to stop. He would go running into our room whining and didn't stop til we sang. That kid enjoyed every second of it. Having not been feeling well, I didn't go all out for his birthday this year. Should have seen his first birthday party. One birthday tradition I did complete was breakfast. Every year I make him a two egg omelette with cheese. His favorite. I will get to the start of that tradition some other time. Anyways, so my dad took it upon himself to do the honors of acquiring gifts; I didn't even expect it. Zeke got a lovely blue bag filled with yummies. Dentastix (he needs them) and some good looking canned food. He also received a card signed by all. That card made me cry. It was great. And for dinner, he got his porterhouse cut steak. Grilled well done, of course. So he, his sisters, and uncle took part in this merriment. No cake this year, but he had quite the day. Apparently it wasn't enough though, because the next morning he wanted us to sing to him again! Oy!

Stories

For a while now, my mom has been telling me to write down my stories. I don't remember much anymore due to chronic pain, medications, and etc. but one thing I know is that my stories are not just stories. Sure they may be embellished and almost have a fiction feel about them, but they are 100% true. I'm not sure if this will just be for me or if others will bother to read this, but I figured I'd just keep on writing. This blog is about Zeke.

Zeke is my 3 year old German Shepherd whom I've had since he was just four days old. Yes, four days. He may genetically and physically be a dog, but he thinks he is a kid. And he is my son. Okay, call me insane, call up a psychologist, laugh, or whatever else you find that you have to do, but yes, I consider this fur ball my son. If you're not a pet lover, then you have no idea what it's like to have a pet. They love you unconditionally. Pets don't care what the hell you look like, what you've done, or where you're from, like the quote from Marley & Me, "Give him your heart and he will give you his." If you think pets are nothing but unintelligent animals that don't think or feel or care, then you are sadly mistaken. Maybe this blog will change your mind or not. We'll see.