My clients had the great fortune to move into a custom build in a gated community. By the time I saw the house, I'd known and cared for Cinnamon maybe half a year.
I wasn't sure how she would react to an 8 foot fenced yard. Little did I know that wasn't going to be her only challenge. Coming from a home with water front acreage and an underground electric fence, Cinnamon would need a period of adjustment.
The yard was, shall we say cozy. No need to mow it, that was part of the charm of this neighborhood.
Lawn care and security were provided. Every home, from a drive by distance, was well maintained.
No R v's or excessive motorized vehicles spilling from the driveway were allowed. Perfect for
my clients, as he was pretty high up in the ranks of the United States Air Force. They had an open bar policy on Fridays (when in residence), which meant neighbors were expected at fifteen hundred hours for Hors D'oeurves .
Cinnamon was not a complainer. She was more like a voice controlled companion, which I took exception to, but rules were rules. She knew her routine and if I forgot what, when or how to do something, she was able to guide me.
At the time we were introduced (at the old house), her mistress showed off the wall of awards
her companion had in the hunting community. She could out bird the competition. She could (to hear the Missus tell it), out bird the hunter!
Being the fine example of champion Fox red labrador, her retirement came as an unwelcome change to her routine. No more car rides to the river, no more wearing of the retrieving collar, no more donning on the safety vest. She was relegated to a life of luxury....which she hated.
To compensate for her missed hunting trips, Cinnamon and I took long walks twice a day. We cut through lawns to the intra coastal waterway and spent hours gazing at her former life. Every afternoon at two, a pod of dolphins would head east. The herons claimed their sand bars and occasionally, a Bald Eagle would grace our upturned faces.
There was give and take in her new life. She was learning to be flexible. She was learning how to be old.
My phone rang to inquire about a three week job with Cinnamon. Could I come over, there was something that needed explaining. My heart skipped a beat, fearing that her health was the issue.
I don't know why, my instincts kicked in, but the years of pet sitting experience, had prepared me to expect great changes. Little did I know.
Yes, changes were coming. A swimming pool! I couldn't believe it; there was hardly room for more than a lap pool in that back yard. My heart sank. Cinnamon's world was shrinking.
From day one, work crews occupied the former two postage stamp sized yard, bringing in back hoes and shovels. Sod was relegated to side yard. Cinnamon was now to be taken through kitchen, mudroom and through the garage to the side lawn. A temporary fence kept her curiosity at bay.
That same temporary fence allowed me to check in with the crew. I learned a few words of Portuguese and they learned that cigarettes were not allowed on the property, and neither was
any rubbish. Hiding it in the displaced mounds of dirt wouldn't work either. We all got along and by the time the owners returned, it was time to buy patio furniture and a pool float in Florida Gator
colors.
Lost was the simple life Cinnamon had thought she would have. Now she had to be cautious navigating the narrow concrete border between pool and fence. Now she had to endure endless pool parties with grand kids and neighbors. Now she understood and it broke my heart.
Months, not even another year, Cinnamon passed. I can't help thinking of the song "Big Yellow Taxi" that Joni Mitchell made famous..."They paved paradise and put up a parking lot", but in this case it was a Mediterranean blue tiled swimming pool..
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