My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 16th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.
This year, the SOLSC gives me a chance to record memories of our little dog, Indie, who died in January. I want to write these down while they are still fresh, so that my family and can read them later and remember not only Indie, but little slices of life across the years.
Often, but not all the time, Indie would do the thing that dogs do when they turn around and around to find the perfect spot to curl up. Sometimes Indie would go round and round, settle down, then do it again, and again.
Once he found the perfect spot, he would curl up into a little fuzzy ball. I called him a”my little cinnamon bun.”
My favorite was when he would go into a “trance.” A look would come over him and he would paw at the blankets in between turning around, gently tugging them into just the right place, to make a little nest of blankets to surround himself in. Once it was perfect, he’d do the turning thing again.
He always loved soft things. If we left a blanket folded up or laying out somewhere, that would be the place he went to. If there were pillows, he would surround himself in them. If Indie were curled up on our bed, and my husband stood up, Indie would immediately move to the pillow curl himself up on top .
At night, Indie would usually sleep in my bed, with Brinton and I. But often he would move around in the night, taking turns on each bed — my son’s, my daughter’s, ours, and his own little dog bed.
Whenever we went camping, he would do find the perfect spot, but more. Partly, I think, because of the hard ground he was sleeping on—and partly, I think, because he liked the feel of the soft silky sleeping bags.
After years of Indie slept on the hard ground while camping, we finally gave him his own little camping pad — a child size pad that the kids had grown out of. We made sure to bring him his own little silky blanket. Indie liked being in the middle when we camped. He slept, floating on top of silky blankets, kids, and pillows, all his favorite things surrounding him, puffed together like a cloud. Curled up, like a little cinnamon bed.