Firecrackers and Bones

The Fourth of July is always special to me in my neighborhood. It takes me back to my childhood when kids could play in the streets after dark in the summer. Fireflies and spitball fights reigned supreme in my activities at night and my days we spent in the pool, lunching on PB&J with Kool-aid. No worries right? Very similar at my house. A culdesac street with sidewalks and the high school just up the road. The high school is where the fireworks are every year and for such a small town, it is usually quite the show.

Traditionally we walk to the high school area and unfold blankets, lawn chairs and a cooler  and just relax, watch people and wait for it to get dark for the show. We then have a short walk back to the house afterwards and don't have to grind it out in all the traffic like most others do. When we get home, Zeke (my black lab) is usually in rare form and is completely freaked out by the fireworks. He will always tear the gate to the backyard down and be waiting trembling on the front porch. There's no getting him back in the fence for the night as the neighborhood stays alive with firecrackers and bottle rockets long after I've gone to bed. He acts mad at me as if I had something to do with it. I think he usually tends to be forgiving when he gets the bones from the BBQ ribs afterwards. Nevertheless, there is no mule gate man made that will hold that dog during fireworks or a thunder storm.

Unfortunately, the fireworks this year didn't have the same ring to them. Zeke is 14 years old and not doing well this year. Friday, July, 1st, I drove him to the vet for what would be his last journey and had him put to rest. I hugged his neck and looked him in the eye as he took his last breath and his massive frame collapsed to the floor. It's such a hard thing to do. The hardest part is wondering what they are thinking of you as it's happening. This was the most gentle dog I have ever encountered. We couldn't stand to see him suffer any longer. I hope he understood and it's what he would have wanted.

Saturday night when we got home after the fireworks , the porch was vacant and for the first time in 14 years, the rib bones went in the garbage can. Goodbye Zeke, my loyal friend. We love you and miss you.