This weekend was both fun and sad. The fun happened in Hot Springs, Arkansas, where my main man Steve married his main woman Heather amid much rejoicing. More on that after some sleep. The sad part: we arrived at my parents' house Friday afternoon to learn that Peanut, my dog since ninth grade and my Mom's favorite cuddlebug had passed away 30 minutes earlier.

It really hurts.

This happened one year minus one day after Julie's dog Sandy died in Julie's lap. She understands.

Here's Peanut in younger days, with her ears straight out (as usual) and sitting in a living room chair (as usual):



She'd been sick for a few days, and she'd spent some time at the vet's office, but was at home and sitting on the couch with Mom when she passed. Peanut was 15 years old, which is something like 96 human years for a dog her size. She had a long life full of patrolling for squirrels, cuddling under a blanket on the couch, chasing the ball down the hall, and being carried like an infant by my Mom. When I think about it, that's more years doing all that good stuff than I had.

It makes me sad because I loved her, but it makes me doubly sad because my Dad and especially my Mom are sad. This will be very hard for them. I'm glad I was there to give (and receive) needed hugs.

I just wish we'd gotten there 45 minutes earlier. It would have been harder on me, but I would have gotten to kiss the top of her nose one last time. That would have been worth it.

Even though I didn't see Peanut much these past few years, I miss her terribly.