Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Knock Knock. Who's There? Peanut.

My Jack Russell Terrier Peanut is a pretty magical animal.
1. She is a friend to all cats. Indeed, Peanut is a friend to all animals in God’s green earth that are smaller than her, because animals larger in size to her are Meanies. There is a memo going around the planet Jack Russells are meant to have keen hunting instinct and killer urges, but Peanut was snuggling a marmot or something that day and missed it.

2. She has one black nipple. I think this is pretty special, because Peanut was not born with The Black Tittie. She went her entire life with a pink and pleasantly cow printed undercarriage until she got pregnant, when one of her nipples became both black and revoltingly misshapen, sort of like The Nothing from The Neverending Story. There was nothing to be done for it, the vet said, but blog about it, so she still has it to this day. Also, she has nine of them in total. Because even numbers are for other dogs.

3. Do you know how animals have keen senses of intuition that make them highly tuned pronosticators of natural disasters? Not Peanut. Peanut is concerned about only two things in this world: 1) animals larger than herself and 2) knocking sounds. A knocking sound could mean someone at the door, and someone at the door means Peanut has to bark, and when Peanut barks, it surprises and shocks her, which means, therefore, all knocking sounds effectively surprise and shock her. And her detector is set pretty low. Examples of knocking sounds include fingers drumming on a desk, a shin hitting a chair, a cat scratching its neck, and large men testing weapons ten miles away at the Naval Weapons Center.

4. Aside from being Endlessly Kind, Slightly Defomed, and Occasionally Anxious, Peanut is Intensely Faithful. She spends most of her time sleeping beside by desk because if I put her out back, she just jumps the fence, runs around front, and peers anxiously in my office windows until I cannot stand her eye-boring supernatural gaze and let her in to sleep under my desk again. Thing 2 asked me once, “Mama? Why do Peanut and the cat follow you to the bathroom?”

I do not know, Thing 2. I do not know.

Peanut also adores car rides, which was why we decided recently to take her to see Future House of Stiefvater. As you’ll recall from my post about cows, Lover & I have just bought our first house, two hours away from our current one. Unfortunately, we cannot move into Future House of Stiefvater until May. This fact pains us, and so we are forced to invent several reasons each month to visit the house. Despite the fact that we have a perfectly reasonable moving date with a moving van, we instead gorge personal vehicles with boxes of books and toilet paper and anything else remotely car-sized and set off on the journey across the state. On one of these trips, we decided to take Peanut, as she had an uncanny response to our last move. Namely, despite having never been to our new house, she correctly identified it through a seriously of anxious whines, random quivers, and clawing at car windows as soon as we began to approach it. Magical!

Of course we wanted to see if she’d do it again. So in the car she went. Peanut’s a great traveler, generally adopting one of two positions.

A) the origami animal. This position takes place in the passenger seat or between the Things in the backseat and requires a lot of folding.
B) the noble beast. If you are thinking “that looks a lot like Kate Winslet in Titanic,” we’re thinking the same thing. This position occurs with her front paws on the center console and the air conditioning rushing past her luxurious hair.

Unfortunately for us on this particular day, Peanut was feeling a bit . . . gassy. Ordinarily, members of the Stiefvater household have plenty of time to get clear of Peanut’s flatulence, because if she hears herself fart, she considers it a knocking sound, and so she will begin to bark. Sadly for us, her farts this day were silent killers.

So we were all nearly perished by the time we got to the general vicinity of The Future Home of Stiefvater. Despite our critical shortness of breath, however, we were all eager to see if Peanut’s magic house-identifying powers were still in full force. As we covered the last twenty miles, conversation died down. None of us wanted to risk saying anything that might tip Peanut off. We wanted to see the master at work. No hints.

The following happened.

And there you have it. Peanut is magical and continues to be magical. Also, in case you’re wondering, my sense of smell is just now returning.  
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