One more thing before I go

[cosmolinguist]

Last night Mom looked out the kitchen window and saw one of our dogs out there, lying by a tree. She pointed this out, saying, "I don't think she's moved all day." And then, "I don't think she can move. Look, she's trying." By then my dad was at the window, too.

I was in junior high when, one cold spring morning, my mom and brother and I were going out to the car on our way to school and we heard this little whining, squeaking sound. We looked for its source and found, under the pickup, a little white dog.

It's not uncommon for people who have puppies they don't want to just leave them by the side of the road out here in the country. A box of puppies was found by our mailbox when I was very young. We took them to the Humane Society. Another dog found my dad when he was out jogging one day and followed him home; that was Sandy, who quickly became a favorite of my brother (and vice versa).

We had a hard time coming up with the name for this cold, hungry, scared little thing that somehow made it to our garage. My mom always chooses the cheesiest things; I think Peanuts was her idea. Dad was quite dubious about this, saying he did not want to have a pet named after a comic strip. But with no better choices offered, or maybe just becaue my mom is the one who yells at the animals most, Peanuts it was.

My dad had to carry her into the garage. When he came back in he said she sounded like she was having trouble breathing. I thought of him walking through the rain with her in his arms and was surprised by how sad that made me (and then surprised that I was surprised). I am not usually an animal person, but jeez ... poor thing.

This was not unexpected; she was old. And sick. Mom and Dad have been alluding to her having heartworm, and I think she even had surgery for it or something, because they were wondering now if it'd come back. She also got arthritis in her old age, and no longer bounded around and recklessly chased cars as she had in her youth.

The thing I liked best about Peanuts is the way she'd follow my dad, in his tractor or combine, out to the field. Many days she'd just sit in the ditch all day as he slowly went up and down the rows. Like she was guarding him. Once the combine broke down in the field and didn't move for three days. Peanuts stayed there and looked at it the whole time.

This is part of the reason we got a new dog last Christmas, the puppy that unfortunately ended up with an even cuter name: Oreo.

When Dad came back from feeding the cats this morning, Mom asked if Peanuts was still there. No, Dad said, she passed away. This surprised no one, but made us all a little melancholy anyway.

Comments

[besskeloid.livejournal.com]

That's a shame. Goodbye, Peanuts.

[kalieris.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry... Pet loss sucks, even if you're not much of an animal person. In our family, we always only had one pet at a time, and when that one died there was mass family mourning (usually at a restaurant, for whatever reason), and then a several-month period before we got the next one. I personally tend to be the kind of person who gets another the very next day, simply because I think it's better to honor the pet that died by rescuing someone else from the shelter than by living in a petless house for six months. Gah.

[cosmolinguist]

I don't remember us not having a dog. I imagine there were bits of time when I was younger when we didn't, but in the last ten or fifteen years it seems we've almost always had two, so there's going to be at least one around all the time.

[stealthmunchkin.livejournal.com]

=hugs=

[toastedtuna.livejournal.com]

Aww. How sad. I'm terribly sorry.