Zeke, Zeker, Zeker the Sneaker, Hiziki-san, Zukeroo, Zukermann ...

"If we are honest with ourselves, all of us will admit to yearning for a connection with animals. What we see in them is a living reminder of what we have lost--a certain innocence of spirit, freedom of action, and an ability to love unconditionally.

"We want to be part of this world of theirs, to throb with the rhythm of life that flows within them. Deep down we sense that if we can only make a connection with another species, in some powerful, mysterious way the bond will strengthen and affirm us both."
--Allen M. Schoen, D.V.M, "Love, Miracles, and Animal Healing"

It's time for me to write about the death of my beloved cat, Hiziki. I didn't have the courage to post an entry to my blog immediately after his death though I wrote innumerable pages in my journal. I feared my overwhelming grief might transmit itself through the keyboard and into the vastness of cyberspace; it was too intimate to share with others.

Yet, in several days it will be six months since Zeke died. It is time to account for his passing. Perhaps it's even time to remove his name from the introduction to this blog, though I'm not sure that I'm ready.

Zeker the Sneaker was my friend and companion--my family--for almost 19 years. In the early years of our relationship he positioned himself on my keyboard in a never-ending effort to claim my attention while I tried to write. Years later he merely climbed atop my desk and sat quietly observing me from behind my computer screen.

Zukeroo offered companionship during months of lonliness when I lived by myself in a South Minneapolis apartment. He comforted me during times of grief and loss following the death of both of my parents and both of Frances' parents too. He often positioned himself at my feet during my t'ai chi ch'uan and t'ai chi chih practices stealing some of the chi energy for himself. And he continually inspired me with his skillful hunting, his wild nature, his deep loyalty.

Though his contributions were subtle, Hiziki-san was one of the founding members of Same Spirit. When bodywork clients arrived--rushed, stressed out, ill at ease--they often found him lying belly-up on the living room floor, centered in a sunbeam. He modeled ultimate relaxation and peaceful contemplation for all of us, clients AND practitioners.

Mr. Zukermann died on September 10, 2008. The day before, Frances and I made lunch for three clients visiting from the Twin Cities. Midway through our meal I heard a rustle and saw Zeker the Sneaker emerge from the innards of a woven basket resting in the corner of our dining room. The basket was our recycling bin for paper products. Zeker, paper lover that he was, had evidentally recruited it for his own private escape. How he fit inside I'll never know. He squeezed himself between handle and narrow edge to drop into a tight ball of fur; unexpected and, therefore, undisturbed.

Later that afternoon Zeke began to howl inconsolably. Eventually he found a hiding spot in the basement. That night, I carried a quiet, desperately ill Zeke from the basement to the upstairs bedroom floor. I placed an air mattress beside him and slept next to him all night, waking often to place my hands on his body or near him, sending him reiki energy, hoping to comfort him and ease his pain.

The next morning I called the vet. The time had come to say goodbye. Before leaving home, I carried Zeke out onto the deck and we sat, as we'd often done together, immersing ourselves in nature. Though he'd spent the previous afternoon and evening in misery, his breathing shallow, his body cold and unmoving, he soon lifted his nose into the air, nostrils expanding to draw in the smells around us. Without hesitation he dropped from my lap to the deck and walked toward the stairs. His gait was weak and wobbly, stumbling. Then he sank to the deck to rest.

Eventually he descended the stairs and ventured onto the narrow path that led through tall grasses and weeds to the bird feeders. I followed him and found him lying on the rich, dark earth under the tall sweep of vegetation. Bird song and conversation rode the airwaves above his head. Oh, this was indeed Zeke's little bit of heaven! When we returned from the veterinary hospital several hours later, we dug a hole and placed Zeke's body into this, his final resting spot.

After Zeke's death I searched for words of consolation. I felt so lost and alone. Soon I found myself between the pages of "Earth Prayers" in the chapter, Benediction for the Animals. Here I read and was comforted by these words of James Koller:

My paw is holy
herbs are everywhere
my paw
herbs are everywhere

My paw is holy
everything is holy
my paw
everything is holy.