Cinders

She wasn’t my first pet, but she was the first one I had that was really mine… if that makes any sense.

We brought her home to live with us at the beginning of December, a long, long time ago. I named her Cindy, after a cousin who had been born shortly before, but she was often called Cinders. She spent much of her first month with us camped out under the Christmas tree, so tiny she could fit inside of the manger. Every year, when the boxes would come down from the attic and the tree would go up, she was in heaven. It was her time. She would always love the Christmas tree.

When I moved out of my parents’ place, she came with me. We spent 19 years together, and the last time I held her and nuzzled her and scratched her chin was five years ago today. She had gotten very sick, very quickly, which in a way was a blessing, I guess. She didn’t linger, and she died at home.

I still miss you, pretty. There will always be a spot under my tree for you.