Oh, my crazy little birthday boy, I miss you so much. Even more so since going through a decade-plus of pictures, looking for the perfect shots to round out this year’s list. Which was actually kind of fun, despite the heartache and pending tears. The Summer of Peedee was pretty freaking awesome, you know? I’m so, so glad we were able to give that to you.
Jayne passed away just over a month ago. She was diagnosed with cancer four months after it claimed you. We got the first call on O-Ren’s birthday, while we were driving out to Smith’s Fork Park for a walk, as a matter of fact. What is it with us getting bad news on birthdays and anniversaries? Anyway, she didn’t have anywhere near the run that you did; it was four short months from beginning to end. Surgery, chemo, last hurrahs, all crammed into one too-short season. I’ve barely had time to catch my breath. It makes me appreciate what we had with you all the more.
Right now one of our fosters – I’ll call her Daisy – is perched on my lap, right where you used to sit, long, gangly legs be damned. She and her brother Brutus arrived the week after Jayne left the building. Mags almost immediately developed diarrhea, and now Finnick and Brutus have it. So far there are two types of worm infestations in the pack and counting. It’s been a time.
Anyway, Daisy. She has a stinky butt and a nosy disposition; I think you might like her. Or maybe not. You were kind of over puppies and their puppy shit by the end.
One day Rennie started playing with Brutus. You know how when dogs (that’s you!) find a dead animal or some stank poo and roll into it with their necks? That’s what she’s been doing with Brutus. Anyway, Daisy saw Brutus getting all the attention, and inserted herself into the middle like little sisters tend to do. Now she’s under the mistaken impression that she and Rennie are friends. She keeps backing her ass up into Rennie’s face. Rennie snaps at her and she tries again, like it’s part of the game. I kind of feel sorry for her; she just wants to be friends!
On second thought, I’m 99% certain that you’d disapprove. I can just picture you now, scolding her from your perch on the back of the couch.
I think about you a lot, is my point. How you’d react to the fosters; whether B.’s balls (sterilization TBA) might mesmerize you the way they do Finnick. How you’d pick up every parasite in the house, on account of your poo fetish. How nice it’d be to snuggle into your thick, wolf-like fur while I cry my stupid eyes red over Jayne.
Confession time: I sleep with your talking chimp at night (he holds onto my hair bands for me!) and take him to the drive-in with us in your memory. (Daisy is terrified of all your talking toys. Now THAT is something I bet you’d love to see!) That’s how much I miss you, big guy. You’ve left a hole the size of which I couldn’t even begin to anticipate, back when this all started.
I love you so much, Peeds. If there’s one thing I’d want you to know, it’s that I always carry you with me: you and Ralphie and Kaylee and now Jayne. Together, forever.
And these are just fourteen of the reasons why. (A drop in the proverbial bucket, okay.)
Fourteen Little Peedee Things
(Doubly so now that the boy only has ten teeth left!)
FACT: Ralphie’s ginormous elephant ears made for prime slurping.
He’s so adept at lifting half-used Kleenex from my person that I’ve considered putting him to use as a pick pocket. (But only on Wall Street, the crime capital of NYC.)
Bonus points: it’s pink and black. One of my favorite color combos!
Okay, so this isn’t so much something I love about Peedee – actually I loathe it – as much as it is a simple fact of life. That said, I do get a morbid chuckle whenever I see Peedee standing patiently behind Rennie or Mags, waiting for them to finish dropping their biz so that he can eat it. Fresh from the source! I don’t know what’s so special about their little butts, but it’s like they shit bacon or something.
(Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials is Peedee’s absolutely favorite. I told you he was smart!)
(It’s usually when he’s rolling around and fussing like this that I make my move. Consequently, Peedee’s kicked me in the vag on more than one occasion.)
I’ve tried taking him swimming – both in the pond and in the (shallow, as barely-up-to-his-neck-shallow) pool multiple times, and it always goes down like this: hysterical thrashing, following by climbing up mom’s torso and onto her shoulders, eventually assuming the scared Scooby Doo pose, like so.
At least he’s gotten used to the water enough to wade into the lake when we’re out and about.
Waves are no friends of his, however.
We tried taking him once, back when we only had a car and he was a wee, excitable little thing (as opposed to being a tubby, excitable big thing), and it was a disaster. But when the cancer came back we decided to try again, and it ended up being one of his favorites. Now he and Mags camp out in the van and drool on all the things while they wait for us to get our asses in gear and LEAVE ALREADY! It’s like he won’t budge because he’s afraid we’ll change our minds and leave him at home after all. Makes me wish we’d tried it years earlier.
Note to self: try all the things when you have the chance.
I woulda made good use of you this past year, little monster. Four dogs in three years is just too much, you know?