Cinnamon's Adoption Story

This is the fajita cart.
They wouldn't feed me.

It's been two years now and it's time to tell you all about how I was rescued from a life on the streets of Santa Fe, New Mexico. This is how it all happened:

It was a dark and snowy day in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was several weeks before Christmas and I was out on the streets all alone, licking the catsup off Burger King wrappers and begging at the pink fajita stand. "Por favor, una comida.... por favor!"  I was working hard on my sad eyes but no one paid attention.

The people were lighting farolitos on the rooftops and The Plaza was decorated for both Christmas and Hanukkah. The shop windows were full of gifts. The bells rang for Mass at the Basilica/Cathedral of St. Francis (Patron Saint of Animals but not of Coon Hounds, evidently).

I was skinny, down to 42 pounds, and I didn't feel good. I had "female problems." They say I was in heat. I guess that's why all those guy dogs were following me. It wasn't a pleasant time and I was shivering. My ribs showed and I was catching a cold.

This is the "jail truck."

One day, I was trotting down this gravel road a few blocks from The Plaza. I was on the hunt for something good to eat and I was eying the garbage cans.  Out of nowhere, someone grabbed me and called Animal Control. A big truck with metal cages built into the back rolled up. They put a loop around my neck that was attached to a stick (like a common criminal). I was so scared I didn't try to get away. I just froze. Then they put me into one of the cages and slammed the door shut.

It was dark in there. I howled. I was now cold AND scared. The truck took off and drove northwest. "Tengo miedo. Ayudame!"

Once the truck pulled up to the big building I heard lots of dogs barking. Some seemed happy and some seemed scared, like me. Some people came out to the truck and opened the cages. One of the men took me inside the building and put me in a large cage with a bowl of water in it. There was a blanket in the corner. It wasn't quite so cold in there. I stopped shivering. I paced for a bit and then curled up and went to sleep.

The next day someone came by the cage. I howled and bayed... "Let me out!" Just as I was going to demand to see a lawyer, I saw that they were bringing FOOD! REAL DOG FOOD! It was the first real meal I had in weeks. I gobbled that up and then lapped the water. 

After that they put a flimsy Tyvek ID collar on me and put a harness and leash on me. They were taking me to the Vet's office. There they weighed me, and gave me an exam. I was given some shots. They wrote down that I was "friendly."  They also wrote down something about a SURGERY!

Several days went by and I didn't have any surgery so I was beginning to relax. Food came every day around 11 a.m. and some of the people were nice to me. But best of all it was warm on that concrete floor and for once, I felt safe.

This is the really fancy adoption center where they took me.

But then it was SURGERY DAY. I went back to the Vet's office. They put a needle into my leg and that's the last thing I remember. When I woke up I didn't feel so great.... kinda woozy. But soon I was back in my cage. People came by and looked at my stitches. I guess I was doing well.

One day, just before Christmas, they moved me over to a nicer building. It was the Adoption Center. They also gave me a name... CINNAMON. The next dog that went over there was named NUTMEG! You see they had a thing for spices. In Spanish, my name was CANELA, but they didn't know I spoke Spanish.

They took my picture and put it on their website. It was a really bad picture. I didn't look friendly at all. I wanted it re-taken. I was hoping I could pick my new owner because my last one didn't give a darn about this hound. I wanted someone caring, who would bring me bones and treats and buy me lots of TOYS! I had my dreams.

Christmas came and went and nobody adopted me. I'd bay and stick my coonie paws underneath the gate of my "cell" when people came by. The nice volunteers took me for a walk every day. I would look out at the dogs with their owners at the nearby dog park and dream that I could be there too... with a fancy collar and leash. Maybe a movie star would adopt me.

I didn't do anything wrong. So why was I still there in a cage? ... ME, Cinnamon. I was starting to get discouraged.

It was almost 2012, New Year's, when something happened. The same lady came to visit me THREE TIMES!  She took me outside and walked me and talked to me. I didn't know what to do so I just behaved myself and leaned against her leg so she would pet me. Was this to be my new owner? Was she nice? Was she rich?

On a Friday, I found out. It was December 30th, 2011 in the morning. I remember the day well. I was with a volunteer walking in the high desert. One of the other shelter dogs was loose and they thought I could help track him down.... and I did!

When I got back in, they told me I WAS ADOPTED!  The lady who had visited me came back and brought a nice big dog crate, food and a collar. She paid for my shelter harness and leash so we could go for walks right away. They took me out to her car and gave me pieces of hot dogs so I would get into the crate... and I did. I was so excited! I loved car rides and I loved hot dogs.

When we got to her house, I explored my new home, saw dog bedding in the corner and checked out my adobe walled yard. I kept pacing around sniffing until, finally, I got tired and fell asleep on the quilt and blankets in the corner of the TV room. 

Here I am on my first walk down the arroyo.
See... I am wearing my red harness from the shelter. See how skinny I was?

I was fed twice a day! Imagine ... breakfast and dinner! And she played with me. My first toy was an old towel braided into a tug of war toy. I loved that! She was nice, she brought me toys, but she wasn't rich. Oh well, two out of three wasn't bad!

We went for walks. One of the first walks I remember was going up the arroyo... the snow beneath my feet and all those animal smells. Life was good. I was soooo happy to be out of the clink!

A couple days later we put my tags on the snazzy new collar.
This made me feel cared about.

It snowed one night and we went up the arroyo in the morning so I could practice my hunting skills!

So now when we go to The Plaza, I can hold my head up high. When we go to the Pink Fajita Cart, I get to share lunch. And, when we are traveling if we go to a burger drive-through... I get a couple bites of the burger and a taste of the french fries.And I learned that my owner is very rich.. not in the sense of money but in happiness. After all, she has me! Life is good!

FREEDOM AT LAST! CINNAMON IS IN HER FOREVER HOME!