 Purred: Thu May 28, '09 12:09pm PST |
 | |  | | I realize this is an old thread, but I wanted to add to it.
This story is about my dog, Cinnamon. She isn't a part of the group. (I should add her, though, because of this story. I often tell it when someone needs hope after losing a pet) I figured I'd share it because it went so well with the topic at hand.
About two years ago, in April, Cinnamon was still, in theory, my moms dog. I was taking care of her, I loved her, but everything about her was still in my moms name. And, as much as I know my mom LOVES small dogs... she isn't that good at taking care of big dogs. Back then, Cinnamon was primarely an outdoor dog and unaltered. By this point, Sakura was two months old. Everyone (but myself) was so involved with Sakura, it was almost as if they'd forgotten about the big three. I was the first one to notice Cinnamon missing. I had come home from the library with my sister. Usually, when I come home, even if the dogs are inside, I can hear them barking for me. My mom tells me that I'm the only one they do this for. I know all their barks. Lilo's is whiny, high pitched. Chance's is deep, manly, even. Sandy's is also whiny, but not as high pitched. Sakura sounds like... a chihuahua. I could go on, but it would take too long since there's seven of them. But, since I can tell each one apart, I instantly knew there was one bark missing.
Cinnamon.
She was gone. I looked frantically around the yard, in the house, she was gone. I started freaking out. Getting agitated. My sister and I walked around the two for the rest of the day even though it was a pretty hot day looking for Cinnamon. We didn't give up until eight hours later. It was about 9. My mom was pulling in from work, and we looked deeper by car. She was nowhere to be found. For the next few weeks, each day was the same routine, we'd walk around town calling her name (people looking at us like we were idiots), posting fliers, handing out fliers, asking neighbors if they'd seen her... no luck. I admit, I cried myself to sleep every night that month. It was horrible.
Then, one day, I woke up to heavy panting. My sister stood at the door and at the end of the leash she held was... CINNAMON! She was back. I remember how she jumped on my bed, kissed my face and I remember how I threw my arms around her and REFUSED to let go. Turns out, she showed up at our old house. The new occupants had seen our flier on the mailboxes in their neighborhood and instantly recognized her. So, posting fliers REALLY does help. |  |  | |  |
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Ask a Cat Lady: Why Does My Cat Love Knocking Things Down?
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