Peanut is a rescue dog I was lucky to get in October 2015, when she was six weeks old. Adopting a dog is a serious business. I was turned down by various agencies — long stories about my purported unsuitability, despite having had many dogs over 50 years—until my niece vouched for me at Family Dog in San Francisco, where they were volunteering.

Peanut is half dachshund and half who knows what—I did meet her mother and siblings. She’s an inveterate ball chaser—can still run, at 10 years old, until I’m ready to drop and she’s still raring to go. She bunny hops, her two back legs in synch, and is wicked fast. A sweetheart, ok to be by herself but eager to snuggle with me or anyone else who might show up, after a few preliminary growls and sniffs. Here she is as a puppy and now.