As recently as December, when I was home for Christmas, there was Cinnamon curled up on the couch next to my Mom and begging for treats from my Dad. They told me she hadn't been feeling well the last few days. My Sister mentioned repeatedly how worried she had been the day before I arrived. But the three days I was there, she was the same old Cinnamon. In fact, late Christmas Eve, when not a creature was stirring, Cinnamon and I hung out for a couple of hours. I had no idea they would be our last together.
Once I returned to Augusta I assumed no news was good news. Then last week Mom e-mailed me to tell me that things didn't look good. Despite their and the veterinarian's best efforts, Cinnamon continued to lose weight. And Cinnamon didn't have much weight to lose. Imagine Gwen Stefani losing 30 pounds and you get the idea.
Cinnamon was a great member of the family. She looked like a black cat that had had an unfortunate run in with a can of beige spray paint. My Mom and Dad took her in when no one else would after she had a litter of kittens at a very early age. As I recall, they had to wait until the kittens were old enough to be adopted to bring her home. For those who don't know anything about animal rescue, puppies and kittens are fairly easy to adopt out. Too often, it's the Moms and Dads that get left behind at the shelter. They gave Mom a loving home and incredible life of luxury.
Cinnamon loved nothing more than snoozing next to my Mom on the couch or begging my Dad for a morsel of whatever he happened to be eating at the time. Since I am the night owl of the family, it often ended up being Cinnamon and me after everyone else had gone to bed. She would stretch out next to me and allow me to pet her, just so long as no one else knew. I kept her secret...until now.
So today we say goodbye to Cinnamon as she crosses the Rainbow Bridge. Unfortunately I have some experience in this area as I went through this exact same thing last summer with my cat Izzy and in 2000 with our cat Prissy. Izzy and Cinnamon only met once, when I took Izzy home for Christmas in 2007. That didn't go so well. As I recall, upon first sight Cinnamon launched herself from my parents' bed to the hallway to pounce on the intruder who was twice her size. But by the time I left for a business trip to New Orleans the day after Christmas they were tolerating each other. I imagine them being buds on the other side and swapping stories.
The late, great comedian George Carlin has a bit in one of his routines that encapsulates the worst fears of every pet owner. In essence, he defines the experience as taking on a "small tragedy". We know how it's going to end and yet we do it anyway.
That leads me to another, more current pop culture reference. Say what you want about Taylor Swift, but there is some wisdom in her song "Blank Space". From the first time I heard the song, I was taken by the line "tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain". It's quite a barometer for almost anything in life. Of course, young, naive Ms. Swift is referring to human relationships in her overly dramatic, yet very profitable, TwentySomething way. However, that lyric came to mind when thinking about sharing our lives with our furry friends.
When it comes to human interactions, the high is usually only worth the pain when it involves close friends or family. But when it comes to pets, it ALWAYS is. My cat Izzy fought and beat cancer and that gave us an extra year of fun together for which I wouldn't trade anything.
I know today will be unimaginably difficult
May you rest in peace, Cinnamon.
