GCH CH Cimarron’s Do You Know the Muffin Man
August 9, 2010 – November 24, 2021
“Muffy”
My heart is breaking. We said goodbye to Muffy yesterday. It was a warm day for November in Iowa, bright and full of sunshine. We took our final walk down the same block we had traveled for the past eleven years. We soaked in the sounds. We soaked in the smells. We soaked in the sun. But, she was tired. Tired of being unable to stand. Tired of being unable to move. Tired of having to be lifted up. I told her that it was okay, that I would hold her up to eat. That I would move her with her lifter. That I would lift her up when she fell. But, she was tired. She was ready to say goodbye. And sadly, I was not.
Muffy was my best friend. She was my confidante. She was the one I could tell all of my secrets to, and I never feared that she would tell a soul.
She was my rock. She was always there to lift my spirits. Even as we sat on the floor at the vet’s office, her head on the pink baby blanket she brought with her when she arrived at my house all those years ago, she made sure to lick away my tears.
I’ll never forget the day she arrived. She left her breeder, ran to my side, and never looked backed. And that’s the way it was for the rest of our life together. Even when she could longer sleep in my bed, by my side, I slept on the floor by her side. It’s what old friends do for each other.
Muffy was the first of so many things. My first show dog. My first champion. My first grand champion. My first breed winner. My first group winner. My first multiple group placing girl. She sparkled in the ring. She was bold and confident, with beautiful movement. She was probably never the best, but she always ASKED for the win. She was a delight to travel with, and never missed a meal.
Muffy also produced my first litter.
And sadly, she was my first dog with Degenerative Myelopathy (DM).
Muffy fought the good fight, with that indomitable Boxer spirit and dignity. But with DM, there is no cure. I steeled myself for the inevitable. They say that helping your best friend transition across the Rainbow Bridge is the greatest act of love you can express. That may be so, but it is also the most difficult.
Over the past months, on our “walks”, Muffy and I would watch for feathers as a sign that her guardian angel was near. Every walk, we would find one, until a few weeks ago, when we stopped seeing them. Yesterday, on our final walk, we found one, small and perfect. A comforting sign. And then late last night, as I let the dogs out for one last time before bed, I noticed movement in the screened-in porch (the door was blocked open.) I stepped out, and there was a brown bird. Usually when birds invade the porch, it’s in the light of day, and the dogs go berserk. But in the still of the midnight hour, they stood silently watching. The little bird fluttered and circled above my head, and then flew back out through the door. A final sign that Muffy was at peace…
Muffy enjoyed the times she wrote my posts. She enjoyed getting to know so many of you. So it is with sadness, that I post her signature line one last time. Please hug your babies and keep them close…
