Thursday, December 10, 2015


It is quiet.



How can a tiny house feel so large?

Because she is gone.

No longer the loud, gasping, yet shallow breathing. No longer do I need to "try" to get her to eat or ask her, "Excuse me, can you move? I need to walk here..." None of that. She is simply not here any longer.

I know she was tired, worn out from trying to stay near me, with me. She was a good dog even at the end.

My son will be home in a week. I know we will have a couple sad days. The his girlfriend will be here for the holidays. The nephews will visit; something which seldom happened with Cinnamon in residence; their mother fearful of all dogs possibly biting.

Cinnamon was the FB meme of the wild-eyed boxer saving her pack from the proselytizing evangelists, mail people who might indeed go postal leaving a package, or even the village clerk leaving those dangerous agendas for monthly village board meetings. "You mean they are not trying to kill us?"

That evening after she died, in the quickly fading light, I indistinctly saw a couple boxers cavorting across the alley at the end of my yard. The silhouette of a boxer is so distinctive, yet their markings in the winter light indiscernible.  A trick of the light, surely. Loose dogs are always an issue in town, and yes, there are other boxers here, just not in my neighborhood.

I not sure what I saw. There was something in my eye. I would like to think her spirit is cavorting somewhere, her breathing no longer labored. She deserves it.

She was a good dog.


  1. Oh I am so so sorry. It is so hard to lose a precious pet.
    I am thinking my horse is going to be coming to his end game here soon..... :(

    1. I had a pony that lived to be 37. Jack has a few left yet!
      Still it has been hard losing Cinnamon. Mentally, I had not prepared for that future self who would not have her underfoot and by my side. All the mental ticks are still in place..."I can't leave the dog kenneled that long... pushing the crust of my pizza or toast off to the side for her when I am stance when I check the oven to see if what I am making is done to allow for four eyes to check...checking where she is when I push back my chair... There is something every hour...It is going to be a while getting through this. And I can't just shrug it off that she was a dog. That seems to devalue what she was to me. She was so damn smart compared to every other pet I have had. My son and I thought she might have a vocabulary of nearly 100 words that she understood exactly what they meant.