Peanut's supersonic superpower hearing allowed him to hear threats real and imagined from such distances as three counties (or states) over. He was always on patrol and keen to warn us early of any approaching danger or nefarious plots. His warnings had escalating levels depending on the perceived urgency of the situation. His ears were constantly twitching - at the ready for any new intel. The nearly constant low growl was kind of like threat level yellow - nothing serious, but we should be vigilant nonetheless. The growl kicked up a notch when the threat level went to orange - someone/something was on the move or the grass was perhaps blowing in the wind three blocks away. Row row row!!!!!! was kind of in the orange/red zone - and he was incensed if we didn't see the imminent threat and respond accordingly. Threat level red meant throwing himself with all of his medium sized canine force into a barrage at the door or window, full bark/sometimes scream, hair on end, ready to rip to pieces the forces of evil that plague our neighborhood......kids on bikes, CATS!, and occasionally the person with the audacity to walk a dog past our house. He was a pleasure to walk as long as we didn't see any other dogs and as long as he didn't perceive any threats - near or far (so....rarely).
Although he tried his very best to be a good dog, his alter ego, Larry, often visited. Larry was naughty through and through. He jumped up to steal things off of counters and the kitchen table, chewed up the kids' toys (particularly fake food and army guys) with zest and without prejudice, and occasionally peed in the house.
Peanut loved to snuggle and had a blanket detecting radar that could sense a blanket being pulled out even from a different floor of the house. He would look longingly at you with his big, bright eyes, shift his ears forward, and cock his head to the side a bit in a "saddest little puppy on the block" way that had you inviting him to share your warm and comfy blanket even if you'd sworn only moments before that this time it was all yours. He delighted in lurking until you got up from your spot on the couch and then in the blink of an eye, he'd have it thieved and was all snuggled in and ready to look pathetic upon your return. He often began the night under the covers, but soon grew too warm and would shift himself up and put his head on the pillow next to Steve - just like a little person. And he snored like a little person, too. While I'm recounting his nasal noises, he also used to run to the door and lift his head as far up as it would go and make little pig grunts. He didn't seem to mind being affectionately called "Piggy Piggy" as a result.
His many quirks are part of what endeared him to the hearts of those of us who loved him. He was forever convinced that if he just stared at a doorknob long enough, the door would indeed open. Much like a cat, he preferred to hang out on the back of the overstuffed chair or sometimes even the couch. As a puppy, he was totally enamored with shiny things and once ate my diamond pendant (which was recovered eventually after "nature had run its course"). The hound in him caused him to howl on occasion, although we never did quite figure out what would spur him to "sing", and the howl ALWAYS always ended in him choking and shaking his head. It never failed to make us laugh.
For as bad as he often was, he was a good dog with a fierce love for our family (and food, if we're being honest here). Although our plastic troops and supply of fake food are no longer in mortal peril, our house sure will be quiet without him. He will always have a place in our hearts and he will truly be missed.
