OTHER WRITING

Eulogy for Cinnamon

Can it really be only 4 weeks since my girl died?? I miss her terribly and waking up in the morning without her is so painful. It is as if a part of me is gone. Where is she? Why isn't she lying next to me so I can pet her and cuddle and discuss "what are we going to do today?"  

She doesn't come upstairs for breakfast, or curl up on her bed aside the kitchen island. She loved that spot, especially when I turned on the electric mixer to mix and bake some sweet thing she couldn't have...though she was always hopeful. She doesn't assume the waiting pose every night after dinner so she can help us clean up in the magnificent way she could ...by licking clean the pots we used for cooking soup, or pasta, or fish or polenta! She no longer lies on her bed in my office while I write!

Most mornings it was me who took her out to do her business. As she got older, she much preferred to stay in bed. So there was a lot of coaxing to do! Walking outside with her most mornings or for an afternoon walk helped me to feel hopeful. I felt useful and special and for those few moments, life was perfect. I was doing exactly what I needed to do and no one could fault me for my devotion and caretaking.

And now, anger, sadness, disbelief, grief and gratitude are simultaneously fighting for space inside me.

There were so many Cinnamon rituals including walks with Luke and the pack, Saturday mornings with Ellen and me when we took her to the Farmer's Market. She loved to travel in the car and hike with us anywhere. She adored the beach, running around herself and doing the "sillies" as we called it. She was a committed swimmer who loved fetching her green floatie. And she loved a comfortable hotel bed!

At the farmer's market she was known as the "Bagel Dog, " since her reward for waiting patiently was a plain bagel She had a fan club of market regulars, young and old. Some remembered her from the dog park when she was a puppy. One day a couple saw me approach and said, "We wondered who her human was. She is so sweet!"  I was so honored, and felt so lucky, to indeed be one of Cinnamon's human pack.

Where is my Cinnamon now? Is she ok? Death and the vacancy are the mysteries that plague my conscience.

I remember holding her the night she died, but more often I remember holding her every day of her life. Lying next to her on the bed, putting her harness on as I wrapped my arms around her warm body. Kissing the top of her head, touching her nose, rubbing her paws and putting my hand in what I called her pocket: the always warm space between her folded hind leg and her torso. I touched her more than anyone or anything.

Cinnamon not only accepted this constant contact, she relished it. She was the neighborhood leaner and ingratiated herself to everyone.

She never wavered in her affection for our family. Robert and I, Nico and Nathaniel.

Even if the rest of her remained undisturbed, her tail wagged every time one of us entered her space.

I collect photos and talk about her, I cry and feel discouraged and then things shift and for a time, I am happy and then it starts again...

It is like the ocean, these endless waves of grief...

Coming and going, in and out...endlessly!

Almost equal to my grief is my gratitude for the sheer joy and privilege of sharing Cinnamon's remarkably happy and carefree life with her. She smiled...constantly! My family and I were with Cinnamon from the beginning (she was 12 weeks old when we adopted her from the SPCA) until she died, 6 months before her 13th birthday. I am also grateful for my friends and family, those who are here today and all of those who have kept us in their thoughts and prayers. Cinny had so many fans - children and adults alike - and her presence reinforced the love among all who knew her.