April 2025 – Contributed by a Community Volunteer

Cinnamon’s Story

There’s a kind of magic that happens in dog shelters—not loud or obvious, but soft as breath on a windowpane. It’s a magic woven from patience, play, and the quiet art of becoming known. This week, that magic took the shape of a silver-gray dog named Cinnamon.

When Cinnamon first arrived, she moved like a shadow unsure of its light. Two weeks of side-glances, hesitant steps, and a reluctance to be touched by either hand or hope. Her coat, the color of faded moonlight, gave her a ghostly elegance—but the heart inside was all too real and tender.

And then something shifted. Maybe it was the morning sun warming the play yard, or the goofy advances of a fellow shelter dog, Magnolia, who didn’t understand personal space. Maybe it was just time. But Cinnamon found her footing. She began to play. Her eyes brightened. Her tail lifted. She joined the chorus of joyful chaos in the dog yard, and in that moment, she began to believe she belonged.

Today, Cinnamon left the shelter with a family of three—a mother, a father, and a teenager who put their phone away and reached for her leash. As they turned toward the parking lot, I couldn’t help but grin and call out, “Don’t have too much fun!”

The Dad laughed and said, “It’s easy to fall in love.”

Indeed.

Cinnamon, now curled in the backseat of an SUV headed to a new life, reminded me of something important: shelter dogs aren’t broken. They’re waiting. Waiting for play, for people. For time. For belief. For a family to fall in love. And when it happens, it’s as sweet as a warm Cinnabon—soft on the inside, with just enough icing to make you feel like the world’s okay again.

Not every story ends with a happily-ever-after. But today, this one did.

Here’s to Cinnamon. Here’s to shelter dogs. Here’s to falling in love.