A True Dog Hero

I hadn't known Agnes for very long. We met at work and got into a regular routine of having lunch once a week at a local diner. About half way through dessert, I told her I was thinking of getting a dog and asked her opinion. She broke into tears. "Agnes, what's wrong?" She gave a feint smile, reaching for a napkin.

I sat still without another word, letting her compose herself when she took a deep breath and said, "My Cinnamon was a big Irish setter. Bill and I got her when she was just a few weeks old. My oldest daughter, Susan, was fourteen and had epilepsy."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Agnes. Did she have a lot of spells?"

"She hadn't had any seizures since she started taking medication. But it still worried me when she was away from home. About two years after we got Cinnamon, I gave birth to Michael. One month later, Susan, at sixteen, started smoking."

"That must've been very difficult," I said, thinking that was her painful memory.

"Susan and I argued over it and she told me she had quit."

"But she didn't?"

Agnes stared out the window, turning back, staring into her untouched coffee. "Michael was six weeks old when I put him in his car seat to pick Susan up from work. Cinnamon always went with me when I went to get Susan. I drove a mustang convertible back then.

The first thing Susan always did when I picked her up was take Michael out of the car seat, holding him in her lap. I told her I needed to run into the grocery store real quick and . . ." She began to cry again.

"What in the world happened, Agnes? My goodness, it must've been really bad!"

"I parked close to the store," she said, wiping tears from her face. "It was busy and I was in there longer than expected. When I came out, I heard a loud thumping sound and saw SMOKE coming from the windows of my car! I dropped the bag I was carrying and shot out into the parking lot."

She leaned on the table towards me and I'll never forget the look on her face when she said, "A car hit me, sending me about six feet and I hit the pavement."

"Oh my GOD!" I blurted out, throwing my hands to my face, looking around the small diner.

The only sound in the whole place was the sound of Agnes' voice as she continued. "I'm a Christian and I cried aloud to God, 'Please, Jesus, DO SOMETHING!' Then I heard a loud crack and saw Cinnamon break through the back window screen!"

Gasps echoed around the diner as people began to gather around our booth to hear the rest of the story.

"When I tried to run," Agnes said, "my legs buckled. I fell to my knees, screaming for my children."

A lady leaned on a stool at the counter next to our booth. "Didn't anybody try to help?"

"They were all watching Cinnamon. She had gone back into the car!"

"No!"

"She dragged Michael out of the car by his diaper to the trunk and stood there with him, back paws on the pavement and front paws on the trunk. I found out later that the diaper had torn. She was holding Michael to keep him from sliding off, as if she knew he would be injured if she tried to take him any further."

"What happened then?" A man at the counter asked. "Did someone-?"

"People rushed over and got him. I screamed Susan's name. I could see her head leaning against the passenger side window."

The waitress put a fresh cup of coffee in front of Agnes, asking, "Was she okay?"

" They all suffered smoke inhalation. Cinnamon collapsed when they got Michael away from her."

"Oh no! Did she make it?"

"She had jumped against the window screen so hard that she suffered a minor head fracture, along with severe smoke inhalation. The fire rescue workers gave her oxygen and an animal ambulance arrived with the county ambulance soon after."

"So she recovered?"

"Yes," Agnes said through a fresh flow of tears. "They said that since Michael was only six weeks old, he probably would've died if Cinnamon hadn't jumped against the back window screen, dislodging it the way she did. If it hadn't been a convertible, she could never have broken through."

"How did the fire start?" Someone asked.

"Susan had put Michael on the back seat with Cinnamon and got into the front seat to have a cigarette. She had a seizure, dropping the cigarette on the cushion in the driver's side seat, falling against the passenger side window. The smoldering cushion filled the car with smoke."

"And Cinnamon?"

Agnes smiled, reaching into her purse, taking out a newspaper clipping. "It was in all the papers," she said, handing me the clipping.

Goose-bumps broke out all over me, looking at the picture of a big red Irish setter, lying on the pavement wearing an oxygen mask surrounded by rescue workers next to a charred Mustang.

"My goodness, Agnes," I said, passing the picture around. "What a brave dog!"

"Cinnamon saved the life of my grandson. But if I had parked in the back, I believe my daughter would have died from smoke inhalation by the time anyone even realized what was happening." Reaching once more into her purse, taking out another picture she said, "That was about twelve years ago. Cinnamon passed away last month, and it hurt just as bad as losing a child."

Goose-bumps came back even stronger than before when I looked at the picture she handed me. I glanced around at the awed expressions as they passed around the picture of a small marble headstone with the words:

Cinnamon
Red Irish Setter
Heroine
1976 - 1990

Animals must be significant to the Lord. The Savior was born in a stable and laid in a manger (a feeding bin for animals). He is known as The Lamb of God, The Lion of Judah, and the Good Shepherd.

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