Zeke’s passing leaves a hole

Sadly, the vast majority of you reading this never had the honor — and gift — of spending time with my beloved back Lab, Zeke. Those fortunate enough to have done so can attest to his exuberant heart and limitless affection for all creatures great and small.

Zeke was my first dog as an adult and will most likely be my last — a blessing beyond words. He changed my life in ways I could not have anticipated and patiently taught me how to care for him, overlooking and forgiving any and all of my mistakes.

In order to spend time with him at our second home in New York’s Hudson Valley, I found an understanding doctor to certify Zeke as an emotional support animal. I rationalized that it was the least my country — and American Airlines — could do for me in recognition of my 63 carrier-based combat missions in Vietnam.

He loved to fly, basking in all the attention he received on board and delighting countless travelers with his excitement at riding the airport escalators. I truly believe he provided emotional support to everyone who came in contact with him. His companionship was — and continues to be — a priceless gift. He taught me far more about unconditional love, devotion and showing up than I ever did him. Especially as his health began to deteriorate.

A degenerative spine was exacerbating his dysplasia and compromising the neural functionality in his lower body. I increased the pain medications he was already taking, hoping to ease his discomfort. I did my best to keep my expectations and reactions to his daily ups and downs in check — trying to hold to a measured, middle ground. But it was so difficult not to rejoice at any little sign of improvement, no matter how short-lived.

I harbored no illusions as to the condition of his spine and other serious issues that no doubt plagued him. I accepted that his days were numbered. But were they weeks … months? Not knowing was the hardest part of this, while wanting to ease his passage while not wanting to let him go. Unwilling to lose one precious day with him while fearful of clinging to him for one too many, I felt I was murdering my best friend one day, allowing him to die in agony the next.

I scheduled, and canceled, two appointments for euthanasia. But the dreaded day finally arrived. He could not get up without assistance and was unsteady on his legs, leaning against the cabinet to drink water. We both knew it was time. We are truly fortunate that this agonizing, unbearable decision was mine to make; that it was not left in the hands of our morally misguided, compassionately clueless state Legislature.

I loved and treasured him dearly, and had encouraged myself to mourn his impending loss in small doses every day for weeks, all in the futile hope that it would somehow soften the final blow. But it did not. His passing ripped a hole in my heart that will eventually heal but will never be refilled. As much as I love animals, I don’t know that I will be willing and/or able to go through this again.

However. The last thing Zeke would want is for me to end this tribute on such a sad note. So, instead, two twists of irony. American Airlines discontinued its emotional support animal policy on Feb. 1, just as further travel with Zeke had become unrealistic. And my goofy boy is no doubt chuckling somewhere at the thought of being taken to the crematorium on Ash Wednesday.

Fair winds and following seas, precious Zeke.