Peanut’s Story at La Vie de Laurie

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Peanut’s Story

By Laurie | March 7, 2007

If you have a dog, you will most likely outlive it; to get a dog is to open yourself to profound joy and, prospectively, to equally profound sadness. –Marjorie Garber

Life is strange. I was very lucky to even have Peanut. I got him the summer of 1998 when I was 20. I remember that day. I was on vacation with my parents in their RV. We went to Tennessee, and were on the way home. I was still in college, and remember studying for exams for my summer classes. They wanted to stop at a swap meet, not far from where my dad grew up. I was a complete brat, and pretty much refused to get out of the RV. They went without me, and an hour or more later they returned.

They asked me to come with them, and that they wanted to show me something. I know I was still being a brat, but instead of getting in and taking off for home– they again urged me to come with them. We walked a few minutes down the road, and came across a “hillbilly” family dressed in overalls with a litter of little white Chihuahua puppies. We had lost Blackie, my childhood Chihuahua back in December of the previous year. I don’t remember asking for a new dog, but I have always loved animals and was very attached to Blackie who had moved from California with us when I was 10. I fell in love immediately. My parents agreed to buy one for me, and my dad “haggled” the family (who had been feeding the litter cat food) down to $75. Peanut (who was named after the dog in the Pauly Shore movie Jury Duty) was an absolutely adorable and sweet puppy. We spent the first hour of the trip home picking fleas from his fur, and the rest of the time he slept in my lap.

I adored him. He followed me everywhere. He was endlessly protective of me. While in a way he was the “family pet” he was really mine. I dressed him in silly outfits, took hundreds of pictures of him, and absolutely loved him. He was a fan of eating– almost anything. He loved to wander around and get into everything. When he was restless, we make him dance to the theme to Beverly Hills Cop. I taught him to wink, stay, sit, and catch treats in the air.

When I was sad, he cheered me up. When I was upset about stupid boys, he was always there and let me cry on him. We took naps together everyday when I got home from work after we had moved away from my parents house together and into my first apartment. He loved to bark at doorbells and game shows. When my friends lost their beloved pets, I clutched onto him crying and thankful that that he was healthy and we had so many more years.

When Dave came along, they didn’t get along so well at first. He loved to bark at him, especially when D would walk around or come near me. Of course things eventually got better, and Dave fell in love with him and all his quirks too. When he was five years old, he had six puppies with my mom’s Chihuahua Chiquita. That is how we came to have Brownie. The first time I brought B home to our apartment for a visit, Peanut peed on him. We think it’s because he was making him as his property. After D and I got married and moved, Brownie came to live with us and we were one big happy family. Peanut and Brownie slept together every night, and if for some reason they were not together the other cried.

Last summer I noticed Peanut started to develop sores on his belly. He also was obsessed with water, though he always seemed to have a fascination with it– drinking until he would throw up. I began doing research, and was afraid he might have diabetes or something worse. He also started to lose weight– even though he ate as much as ever. We took him to the vet, who did blood and urine tests and found nothing wrong. He gave us a special shampoo for the sores on his belly, and a steroid for his nose that seemed very dry. He also had a limp, and the vet acknowledged that his leg may have been slightly out of place– but because of his age he did not suggest the surgery.

In the next six months, we did not notice improvement. Things seemed to be at an all-time low a month ago when he seemed to be favoring his leg again and actually tumbled over and shook. I carried him outside, afraid that he might fall down the stairs as I noticed he was having difficulty with them. He was still so skinny, which worried me so much since he ate like a healthy, normal dog. The sores did not improve either, and in fact spread to other parts of his body. Since the vet insisted that there was nothing wrong after all of the tests, I was at a loss.

On Friday of last week, I heard him fall over and rushed to his side. One of his front legs also seemed to be bothering him, and kept him from walking completely. I held him, slept with him, and cried for him. I told him that I loved him, and how much I hated to see him this way– so very changed from the puppy I had known only a year earlier. D and I had cried several other times recently– I suppose afraid that this day would come eventually. I wasn’t prepared for it to be so soon.

We made an appointment with the vet, hoping they would be able to find something to help this time. His condition had become worse, even overnight it seemed. I called my mom, who insisted on coming over to see him. Even they had noted how changed he was from late December when they had kept him and Brownie while we went to Vegas. I think we all knew why she came.

The vet said that he suspected that he may have cancer by the way his head was shaking, and that his obsession with water sounded like a kidney disease– though he had tested negative for that not long ago. He told us that he would need intensive care, that he was dehydrated, and that they could do another series of blood tests that would need to be sent off somewhere else for more serious diagnosis.

We cried, knowing that Peanut was already suffering so much. I was so conflicted. I wanted to do the right thing. The vet said that if we went ahead with more tests or some kind of treatment, he still thought that we would be back a few weeks or months later faced with the same decision. I could not bare to watch him suffer like that anymore. I could not imagine going away to work each day, leaving him home unable to walk. It was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through. The vet left us alone for some time as we both cried, held him, and stroked his fur. He slept so peacefully in my arms. I cried to the vet asking whether or not we were making a mistake. He assured me that this was the most humane and loving thing we could do.

I held him in my arms, kissed him, told him we loved him, and he was put to sleep as I held him. I think the hardest thing for me to block from my mind is the fact that he was alive one second, and gone the next. I don’t think I will ever get that image out of my head. If anything, the one comfort I have is that we were there with him– holding him and letting him know just how much he meant to us. I carried his body out of the office in tears, and David drove me to my parents house where we buried him next to my other two childhood dogs, Sandy and Blackie. We all cried together, and said goodbye.

As we stood there, my mom holding my hand and hugging me– she said, “I know this is hard. It hurts so much that you almost do not want to go through the pain of having another one again.” Right now I can understand that– being so sad and upset and in greif. Then again, if I did not have him I would have missed out on so much joy, love, and good times too.

It’s been hard, these first five days without him. I cried for practically all of the first two days. Absolutely everything reminds me of him. We have pictures everywhere. Of course his leash, food bowl, clothes, bed, toys– everything– are constant reminders. Even Brownie.

I have so much guilt. Did he know how much we loved him? Did I do the right thing? Is there a puppy heaven? I feel horrible for all the times I was angry, frustrated or upset with him. Filling one food bowl at dinner instead of two is hard. Going outside for walks and coming back up the stairs without him is painful. We sometimes think we hear him in another room, only to realize he’s not there and will never be coming back again. It’s sad to watch Brownie look for him, and to cry at night when he has to sleep alone. He also cries as I leave for work, which is very difficult.

I know with time it will get easier, but I don’t want it to. I am going to miss him always. I think he was brought into my life to teach me patience– and to not be so much of a brat. We all know life is short, but I am starting to realize it even more now. Time goes by so fast. I swear it was just yesterday I was laying in that RV with that tiny white puppy in my arms. I am thankful for every minute that I had with him, but sad for all the minutes I am going to be without him now. I must learn to appreciate and spend more time with those that I love. That is abundantly clear to me now– more than ever.

I have Peanut to thank for a million happy memories, but I also have him to thank for teaching me one of life’s biggest lessons. I love you, Peanut.