PEANUT the whippet cross is on his last legs. He has a tumour behind his eye, and the vets say it’ll only be a few months at most and that they’ll do what they can to make him comfortable.

He’s almost sixteen and it’s been that many years since he came home as a tiny runt-of-the-litter present for a girl turning five who looked up when he was introduced to her and said “he is my favourite” and took him straight into her room and under the covers where he’s spent many of his nights since.

He used to chase the ball until he passed out, and now he carries it carefully around the park, dashes after a few small throws, lies down a bit, and then carries it the rest of the way. He used to be able to spot a rabbit from an impossible distance and now he stares lovingly into cupboards and mirrors for no apparent reason. All of his senses are retreating, and even friands have lost their appeal. He is on his way out of our lives.

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You can read the rest of the article here at the herald sun.