Old but New

I Cried Alone

Zeke is my fifteen week old German Shepherd puppy and the only survivor from a litter of eleven.  He has allowed me experience what it's like to care for and nurse a baby back to health, watch one grow up, experience being a mother, and has helped me deal with a headache that I've had for over two years.  He's an absolute joy to be around and my family genuinely loves him to death.  He has so much personality and understands a lot more than most dogs seem to do. It's funny, too, because he really doesn't even think he's a dog.

June 18th at around 7 P.M. my mom was grilling dinner outside and as dinner was finishing we noticed that the neighbors were outside decided to ask how the new litter of chunky puppies were doing.  My neighbor came over, sullen, explaining that he had just finished burying all but one.  Taken aback, we asked what happened and were informed that the mother became ill and would not feed the puppies.  After having read about bottle feeding, I suggested the option thinking that the last puppy wouldn't survive, being only four days old, if his mother was sick, her milk was no good, and she wasn't willing to feed him.  We soon rushed off to PetSmart to buy the formula and bottles.  When we returned my neighbors asked us if we would be able to feed him since they both had to work, and in order to survive, the puppy needed to be fed every three to four hours; we agreed.  Thin, weak and malnourished, my mom and I tried to feed him and allowed I him sleep on my chest as to not feel alone, hoping that he would survive the night.

Two weeks later, still alive, Zeke developed severe diarrhea.  My mom and I took him to the vet for the first time, where the vet injected him with fluids.  He writhed in pain as the large needle pierced his thin, weak body, yelping, as if he was saying, "Momma! It hurts!  Tell them to stop, please!"  It was difficult to watch, but when it was over, I held him close and told him everything would be alright.  Later during that week my family and I wanted to go to the movies. Unable to leave weak little Zeke alone, we snuck him in.  He's been to the movie theatres four times in his lifetime. Sometimes he’d be peeking out of his blankets watching, amazed at the moving pictures.

When Zeke was six weeks, I allowed him to stay outside for longer periods of time to play with his two older sisters and explore more of his own world.  I took dozens of pictures those days, including the one that this story is based on.  To me, it looks like he's saying, "Look, mom!  I'm a German shepherd, I made it!"  Most days he seems to not even consider himself a dog.  He watches TV with me, listens when I tell him stories and explain things to him, and he sits there with a look on his face as if he understands everything.  He didn't bark until he was three months old.  The only time he ever did before then was in his sleep, and as a result, he'd scare himself awake.  He also talks.  When he used to cry, my mom and I would tell him to "use his words," which now a days, he pretty much does.

Although it probably doesn't seem like much, Zeke has genuinely helped me keep my mind off my headache and has kept me going.  It's been an astounding fifteen weeks watching him grow, recover various times from severe diarrhea, act like Steve Irwin the mighty crocodile hunter with his sisters after watching the show, and just watching his personality and the way he creatively processes the objects around him.  He's a survivor and a real gift.  It's heartwarming to see that he actually considers me his mother and he's a stunning addition to the family.  Zeke is one of a kind and I look forward to making new memories with him and my family in the many years ahead of us.