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A Story About Peanut; The Sweetest Boy

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A Story About Peanut; The Sweetest Boy

Features Editor Judd Wiltse had an interesting relationship with his friend's Chihuahua, Peanut.

Features Editor Judd Wiltse had an interesting relationship with his friend's Chihuahua, Peanut.

Features Editor Judd Wiltse had an interesting relationship with his friend's Chihuahua, Peanut.

Features Editor Judd Wiltse had an interesting relationship with his friend's Chihuahua, Peanut.

Judd Wiltse, Features Editor

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Man’s best friend, a title used to describe the domesticated dog. However, the title of domesticated does not always imply docile. We all have a friend that has one dog that is in a perpetually bad mood. Whether it be from age, life experiences, or always managing to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, it differs from dog to dog. Though none came close to the all encompassing rage and hatred that emanated from a particular canine. This embodiment of pure undiluted anger went by one simple yet fear inducing name: Peanut.

I couldn’t tell you what breed Peanut was. He kind of looked like a fat Chihuahua with folded tipped ears and smelled like a corn chip. He had short skinny legs and not a lot of fur, so whenever he would curl up he looked like an ugly potato from behind. He was also missing some of his teeth so his tongue would hang out of the right side of his mouth.

Eventually Peanut and I came to an understanding. I promised not to disturb him so long as he promised not to aggressively bark at me for fifteen minutes straight.”

By the time I had first met Peanut he was already old and cranky. My friend informed me that they had adopted Peanut when he was five years old and even back then he hated everything. I met him when he was around eleven years old and over the course of the next five years the only noticeable change that age brought to Peanut was how fast he was able to run to the front door and scream at me. I wasn’t the only one Peanut screamed at, though. He’d spit and curse at just about anyone who came within fifty feet of him. There were only two people Peanut didn’t bark at. My friend, only sometimes, and his mom.

Eventually Peanut and I came to an understanding. I promised not to disturb him so long as he promised not to aggressively bark at me for fifteen minutes straight. That being said, Peanut didn’t always hold up his end of the bargain but I was a pretty lenient guy so I let it slide.

Occasionally, I would end up on the same couch that Peanut had just so happened to be lounging on. He would made it very clear to me as I sat down that I was to sit on the end farthest away from him and not an inch closer. Though I noticed that every so often Peanut would try to scratch his back, but due to his age and natural chunky body he had great difficulty in doing so. I wanted to assist him yet anytime I even so much as raised my hand in his general direction he would unleash a growl akin to that of an irate badger. My friend eventually told me, “You should scratch him. He’ll love you for it.”

A reasonable wave of skepticism washed over me. After all I was under the impression that this animal was incapable of even feeling joy and now my friend is telling me that this snarling mound of hatred is going to cast aside all past grievances if I only scratch his back. I lifted my hand towards him and Peanut’s anger noises started almost immediately. I pushed on and slowly started to scratch his itchy back. I was sitting in full anticipation of him reaching around and tearing into my hand with the bite force of a teething infant. The most he did was loudly protest, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop it.

Eventually as I moved to different spots his protesting fell silent as his eyes drooped and his tongue hung out of his mouth even more than it already was. When I stopped, Peanut slumped down into the cushion and fell asleep faster than a ninety year old man who just took a trip to the corner store. For awhile this would be Peanut and I’s first and only interaction. Until I brought tater tots.

His ears were pointed straight to the heavens, his skinny legs were doing everything they could to keep his excited body from falling over, and his tail was wagging as much as it physically could with his age.”

My friend and I had stopped by Sonic before making our way back to his house. I had just bought a large order of tater tots, and as we were browsing the titles of Netflix I heard a desperate cry coming from the foot of the couch. There was Peanut, longingly looking up, not at me, but the tater tot I had in my hand. Out of curiosity I slowly inched the tater tot towards him and that boy went absolutely bonkers. His ears were pointed straight to the heavens, his skinny legs were doing everything they could to keep his excited body from falling over, and his tail was wagging as much as it physically could with his age. I was dumbfounded, the mighty and proud Peanut was now begging and groveling at my feet.

I didn’t want to be a jerk, so I tossed him the tater tot as he clumsily caught it mid-air. In under a second Peanut had completely devoured it which is impressive given the fact that most of his teeth were missing. Pretty soon I started bringing him tater tots anytime I came over.

When my friend’s family moved to a different house there was no heating for the first winter. This wasn’t really a problem for anyone but Peanut had barely any fur left so he was cold a lot. One night, after having enough of watching my sweet boy shiver and shake, I picked him up, which was met with the usual protesting, and set him down on my friend’s blanket. I then proceeded to fashion sort of a cave out of the blanket by wrapping it around him in a mound while leaving a hole for him to pop his head out of. Peanut, being finally enveloped in a sheet of warmth, ended up falling asleep.

A few minutes later, as I was making Kool-aid in the kitchen, I heard Peanut bark and scream so loudly that I thought one of my friend’s other dogs was trying to get in a fight with him. I quickly arrived on the scene to find no dogs but instead, my friend, looking like someone had just threatened him with a gun. He said, “I was just trying to grab my blanket and Peanut tried to murder me.”

Peanut made a disgruntled noise, as if to justify his action. I responded to my friend, “Yeah, I think that’s his blanket now.”

So over the course of winter there was one known law of that household, Peanut’s not to be disturbed when he’s in his blanket cave.

Peanut passed away two weeks into August of this year. I was fully expecting this yet I still feel a significant sense of grief. Peanut was already old when I first met him so it was astonishing that he even managed to live as long as he did. He’s certainly left a lasting impression on all of those who have met him, some more negative than others.

The bottom line is that Peanut was old, grouchy and hated everyone. Yet, I feel that out of all the people Peanut hated, he hated me a little less.

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A Story About Peanut; The Sweetest Boy