Mr. Peanut entered my life with the oversized name of Eugene. He was one of Bill Smith’s boys from Main Line Animal Rescue a few years ago.
When I rescued him his story was a sad one – he had been in a fire and abandoned by his humans. As the story goes a kind fireman bought him to MLAR. A miniature dachshund, he was even smaller when I rescued him. And he had never had basic veterinary attention. He was in fact, seven pounds and a few ounces and for his size, he should have been heavier.
He quickly wormed his way into my heart and the hearts of others in my life both friends and family. He was a smart little guy and very vocal for lack of a better description. He used to make this happy sound we called “mrrrrrrrr” . My friend Barb always thought he would be a great children’s book. Unfortunately, Mr. Peanut and I never got around to writing it.
As Mr. Peanut aged he lost both his hearing and his eyesight. Yet for a good long while he adapted. But in the middle of the summer he had a seizure and was never the same since. The past few weeks he started to slide more and more down hill, barely able to walk, and when he did walk it was mostly in circles. And although he was eating, he was losing weight by the day.
I don’t think losing a dog ever gets easier, and I have cried buckets today, and will probably do so for a while. But I always promise my pets I will never keep them around just for me, and I have never broken that promise. Today however, was really hard.
Maybe this is not the best time to be writing this post because emotionally I feel so raw, but he was such an awesome little dog, he deserved a shout out.
So now my little friend has gone to the rainbow bridge. I miss him already.
A final note is to remember that there are a lot of wonderful dogs like Mr. Peanut who need loving homes. Don’t shop….adopt. And support local rescues like Main Line Animal Rescue.
Mr. Peanut was 14. He had a lot of fans. Including a very special reporter for The Philadelphia Inquirer who is one of my mentors. This is what she wrote today…read with tissues:
A miniature dachshund named Mr. Peanut had such a job. It was seeing his owner, Carla Zambelli, a Montgomery County blogger, writer, and photographer, into safe harbor from life’s hard knocks.
There was something about that joyful, high-pitched bark and the dancing on little back legs that was consoling when he greeted you at the door, even if you didn’t know his story.
Lifted onto your lap, he would burrow into your armpit and fall asleep, a package of warm contentment.
Mr. Peanut did not have a good start in life.
Near as we can tell, Mr. Peanut was found by firemen abandoned outside a gutted housing complex in Norristown in the mid-2000s. His family simply never went back for him. The firefighters scooped him up and took him to Main Line Rescue, where Carla saw him and was smitten.
When the experts examined him, they found that he had never been given dog food, leash training, or any medical care. Most of his teeth were rotten and had to be removed. He spent the rest of his life taking antibiotics for various health problems.
Carla had some setbacks, too. Her personal life went south in 2010, and Mr. Peanut, along with standard dachshund, Iggy, were a tag team, helping her cope.
When Carla learned she had breast cancer, and mounted a fierce battle to beat it back, Mr. Peanut and Iggy were there. The tag team of rust-colored clowns never stopped being a force she could lean on.
Carla beat the cancer and created a new life in West Chester. His human was safe, his work on earth done, so Mr. Peanut began to cycle down.
Carla called us about a month ago, saying that Mr. Peanut was failing and we better come quickly if we wanted to see him one last time.
On a rainy Sunday, we went. Carla put Mr. Peanut in our arms, and he settled in quietly without the usual clamor, his graying muzzle and black nose resting on our elbow.
When Carla put him out to do his business, he could be seen circling the deck on determined little legs, the will to live still strong.
But even strong little hearts give out.
Last night, before the sun set, Carla and her life companion, a kind man named Ben, had Mr. Peanut put to sleep. The legs are still, the bark quiet
Rest in peace, brave little one.