Cinnamon

I just had my one year anniversary with my company. I’m pretty happy about it. This means that it’s possible that I’m that much closer to getting to the position that I want, in-house graphic designer. (Though that will probably take many years.) It also means that I’m having to work all the time. Something else has been keeping me from really enjoying it, though. Steve came to my office one year ago today and wanted to take me to lunch. He said he had some really bad news. First I said, Mom and Dad? Then I said, You and Kathie are still getting married, right? He actually was there to tell me that Cinnamon had to be put to sleep that night. He took me to Peet’s coffee and we put cinnamon in our chai teas and it blew away a bit in the wind. Of course, I didn’t think much of it until later on that afternoon.

I went to Peet’s this morning for coffee and shook the cinnamon in my cup and it didn’t blow away. I actually think about that moment many times when I’m at the coffee shop.

I’ve been thinking about putting this story ahead up on the blog for a long time, but now it’s finally the best time.

One night in February I was walking past a restaurant and there was this dog tied up to the parking meter in front. She must have been the same mix that Cinnamon was, half collie-half australian shepherd. This dog had a long, waggy tail- much like what Cinnamon’s would have looked like if she had one- she was also the same golden brown color. I started petting this dog and she was so sweet, same mannerism as Cinnamon, and when I paused from petting her to get a better look at her, she stuck her nose under my arm and nudged it up to keep petting. I just looked at her and started crying and couldn’t stop. She was so much like her, I couldn’t believe the resemblance. I finally got up and went to a nook between shops on the sidewalk.

I heard a man, some feet away, asking me if I was okay, and if something had happened. He was an employee of the restaurant, leaning out the window, making sure I was alright. It seemed I was meant to talk to him, so I walked over and told him that this dog reminded me of my dog, who got sick and had to be put to sleep a few months back. I explained how I felt bad about not seeing her for a really long time before she passed away. I didn’t think I would be able to leave this spot or this dog.

He took my hand and told me to not hold on to the sadness, but hold on to sweet memories. He said, One day I will have my dog again, she will find me. I will know it’s her, because she’ll jump up on me like she did before and bite my nose.

How would he know that?

I miss her.