Peanut: January 28, 1992 - June 12, 2008
I remember the first time I saw Peanut. It was only a few days after he was born; his mother, Malibu, was my cousin Anthony and my aunt Julie's dog. Malibu had a litter of 4, Peanut the only boy. Mali let us get close to her newborn litter; my sister Dawn having already laid claim to the boy of the bunch. Holding him in the palm of her hand, he fell asleep, his head slung over her fingertips, his hair barely covering his pink skin.
Two months later my aunt would deliver Peanut to our house on my sister's birthday snuggled in her jacket. He immediately took to his new surroundings, the life of the party. He'd run circles around the coffee table in the living room, making us chase him until everyone involved was out of breath. He'd often rest inside the ends of the table, on one of the cutaway shelves at the base, and when he was teething he'd gnaw on the columns.
In his younger years Peanut was very smart. Perhaps too smart. I couldn't leave a magazine on the floor in my bedroom because he was likely to mark it as his. He knew how to sit, give us paw (he was a southpaw), and show his teeth. He knew the sounds of every car in the family when they would pull up. And when we all would go out for dinner, he'd count us one by one as we walked back in, sniffing near one, wagging and barking, before running to the door to see who was next.
He didn't play with many toys, but there were a few that were his favorites. When he was little he had a teddy bear named Jelly; he fetch it and chew on (and eventually out) the eyes. The other toy he'd play with alot was this old Pac-Man squeaky toy we found in the basement. It was the size of a tennis ball, but with a wedge cut out for Pac-Man's mouth, which was colored into the plastic. Essentially, a 3-D mini Pac-Man. He'd never squeak it much, but he loved to fetch it... and every so often he'd come back with it in his mouth right side up and forward, where he looked like he had Pac-Man's teeth and tongue instead of his.
There was also a small white stuffed dog on the love seat where Peanut spent a lot of his time. He never played with the dog, but he'd always look when you pressed its nose, causing the toy to whimper. Whenever we'd move the stuffed dog, Peanut would get upset until we put it back. If we put it on top of the TV, he'd sit in front of it and bark until the stuffed dog was back on the love seat where it belonged. He also liked the laundry bag a lot when he was little, often hopping onto it when it was full of clothes and laying down until someone pulled it to give him a ride around the living room.
Peanut also loved to be affectionate. I remember when I came back from 3 weeks in Orlando in 1999, he pinned me down and licked my face for 10 minutes. A 10 lb. dog, 15 at his heaviest, and he would just climb onto your chest, lay flat out and slop you up. Slopper was one his nicknames, in fact. When he fur would get long, we'd call him Fluffernutter. Peanut didn't like to travel or ride in the car, but he did get to spend a summer in Florida with my sister. He also didn't like any of us going anywhere for too long; if there was suitcase out, he'd lay inside of it when it was open, to keep you from packing.
Whenever I would leave the house, I'd tell him the same thing, especially if I was going away for a long time, "Peanut, you be a good boy and I will see you in a little while, ok?"
For most of his life, Peanut was rather fearless. Take him for a walk and he'd bark at anything on 4 legs that came along, no matter the size. Small dogs, large dogs, VERY large dogs, bicycles, strollers, parked motorcycles... Peanut was ready to throwdown with all of them. He'd bark alot at the outside world. On the love seat (and before that a chair in the living room) he look out the front window for his barking target and to see when everyone was coming home.Like any dog, he loved food, especially my Granma's meatballs. She'd give him a little plate of them and he'd chow down and come back with tomato sauce all over his chin.
Even up to last year, Peanut was rather energetic. I'd get home from work early in the morning and he'd want to play, even if for just a little while. He'd snuggle up in bed next to me, laying somewhere by my hip so I could pet him. He always liked to lay next to people, particularly on the couch, where he'd easily find a home behind your legs.
As he got older, he loved to have his ears scratched, as I would often have to clean them for him. He also had a spot on his rear haunches that would make him shift his tush towards you and lick at air uncontrollably. And if he let you gently rub your fingertip between his eyes, he'd fall asleep.
Of his litter, Peanut was the last left. Baby and Mirage passed many years ago; and Pootsie, my Aunt Dorothy's dog passed away 3 or 4 years ago. In January, he celebrated his 16th birthday.
Yesterday, Peanut didn't eat at all, even turning away from a hamburger my mom had cooked for him. He gave her two kisses earlier in the night, before laying down on his pillow on the floor where the couch and love seat cornered, just below my dad sleeping on the couch. He closed his eyes. He fell asleep, his head slung over the edge of the pillow, his hair barely covering his pink skin.
Peanut. You be a good boy and I will see you in a little while, ok?
Two months later my aunt would deliver Peanut to our house on my sister's birthday snuggled in her jacket. He immediately took to his new surroundings, the life of the party. He'd run circles around the coffee table in the living room, making us chase him until everyone involved was out of breath. He'd often rest inside the ends of the table, on one of the cutaway shelves at the base, and when he was teething he'd gnaw on the columns.
In his younger years Peanut was very smart. Perhaps too smart. I couldn't leave a magazine on the floor in my bedroom because he was likely to mark it as his. He knew how to sit, give us paw (he was a southpaw), and show his teeth. He knew the sounds of every car in the family when they would pull up. And when we all would go out for dinner, he'd count us one by one as we walked back in, sniffing near one, wagging and barking, before running to the door to see who was next.
He didn't play with many toys, but there were a few that were his favorites. When he was little he had a teddy bear named Jelly; he fetch it and chew on (and eventually out) the eyes. The other toy he'd play with alot was this old Pac-Man squeaky toy we found in the basement. It was the size of a tennis ball, but with a wedge cut out for Pac-Man's mouth, which was colored into the plastic. Essentially, a 3-D mini Pac-Man. He'd never squeak it much, but he loved to fetch it... and every so often he'd come back with it in his mouth right side up and forward, where he looked like he had Pac-Man's teeth and tongue instead of his.
There was also a small white stuffed dog on the love seat where Peanut spent a lot of his time. He never played with the dog, but he'd always look when you pressed its nose, causing the toy to whimper. Whenever we'd move the stuffed dog, Peanut would get upset until we put it back. If we put it on top of the TV, he'd sit in front of it and bark until the stuffed dog was back on the love seat where it belonged. He also liked the laundry bag a lot when he was little, often hopping onto it when it was full of clothes and laying down until someone pulled it to give him a ride around the living room.
Peanut also loved to be affectionate. I remember when I came back from 3 weeks in Orlando in 1999, he pinned me down and licked my face for 10 minutes. A 10 lb. dog, 15 at his heaviest, and he would just climb onto your chest, lay flat out and slop you up. Slopper was one his nicknames, in fact. When he fur would get long, we'd call him Fluffernutter. Peanut didn't like to travel or ride in the car, but he did get to spend a summer in Florida with my sister. He also didn't like any of us going anywhere for too long; if there was suitcase out, he'd lay inside of it when it was open, to keep you from packing.
Whenever I would leave the house, I'd tell him the same thing, especially if I was going away for a long time, "Peanut, you be a good boy and I will see you in a little while, ok?"
For most of his life, Peanut was rather fearless. Take him for a walk and he'd bark at anything on 4 legs that came along, no matter the size. Small dogs, large dogs, VERY large dogs, bicycles, strollers, parked motorcycles... Peanut was ready to throwdown with all of them. He'd bark alot at the outside world. On the love seat (and before that a chair in the living room) he look out the front window for his barking target and to see when everyone was coming home.Like any dog, he loved food, especially my Granma's meatballs. She'd give him a little plate of them and he'd chow down and come back with tomato sauce all over his chin.
Even up to last year, Peanut was rather energetic. I'd get home from work early in the morning and he'd want to play, even if for just a little while. He'd snuggle up in bed next to me, laying somewhere by my hip so I could pet him. He always liked to lay next to people, particularly on the couch, where he'd easily find a home behind your legs.
As he got older, he loved to have his ears scratched, as I would often have to clean them for him. He also had a spot on his rear haunches that would make him shift his tush towards you and lick at air uncontrollably. And if he let you gently rub your fingertip between his eyes, he'd fall asleep.
Of his litter, Peanut was the last left. Baby and Mirage passed many years ago; and Pootsie, my Aunt Dorothy's dog passed away 3 or 4 years ago. In January, he celebrated his 16th birthday.
Yesterday, Peanut didn't eat at all, even turning away from a hamburger my mom had cooked for him. He gave her two kisses earlier in the night, before laying down on his pillow on the floor where the couch and love seat cornered, just below my dad sleeping on the couch. He closed his eyes. He fell asleep, his head slung over the edge of the pillow, his hair barely covering his pink skin.
Peanut. You be a good boy and I will see you in a little while, ok?