dp Snippets

Pepper

The king of the “weppers”

“Poopsie-oopsie” was also a popular nickname we had for him, but often we just called him “the wepper”, “Wep” or “Pep” for short.

Our protector

He was ever our guardian. Ever vigilant, and totally fearless. There was nothing he didn’t think he could take on. At several points in Pepper’s life, which was a blessedly long 17-18 years, where he could have expired early. It is because of this we often claimed he might be a cat, and had nine-lives.

One, nearly at the beginning when we first got him. My then girlfriend (who is now my wife) who I only knew for a less than year, brought home this dog, a gray and white male poodle that she rescued from being taken to the pound by a friend she knew. Pepper was already about a year old (we really do not know exactly how old he was) and very much a bundle of lightning quick energy. He also wasn’t potty trained properly, and thought nothing of going around your house marking his territory at every suitable corner!

Anyhow, we let him out one day and he promptly squeezed through our fence somewhere and escaped. He was lost for about a day or so. We put signs up, and canvassed the neighborhood looking for a small gray/white poodle. A day later I went to the local dog catcher to see if he had Pepper in their cages. The dog-catcher told me to go outside around the back where they kept all the male dogs in a fence-off area. Nearly all the dogs were of a large breed, from Doberman, rottweilers and Shepard, but there prancing around their feet was this little poodle, his short stubby tail a wagging furiously, and barking his usual ear-piercing bark.

Sadly, at the time I was yet to be attached to Pepper. I really didn’t want the dog. We already had a dog and a cat when my wife brought him home. A dark thought flew across my mind, “I could pretend I didn’t see him there…” However, that was soon dashed from my thoughts as I looked on the pitiable scene of this lone, under 10 pound, dog was easily jostling among the much larger ones, though appear to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of them. I recall there being about 5-6 large breed with Pepper being the one and only small breed dog in the pen.

So I paid the dog catcher $15 to spring the “little guy” out. There was the first close call of Pepper’s life. I do not regret for a moment saving him from certain death, and giving him a place to call home for nearly 18 years.

Although I wasn’t a witness to this event, my wife had called me at work one day to tell me the story of Pepper deciding to take on a van driving by in front of our house. I do not know what the circumstance was at the time when he dashed off after the van, but he ended up underneath it, and somersaulted a fews before popping back out and a bit shaken bolting back to my wife’s arms. The van apparently never saw this, and consequently didn’t stop.

Another time that his life could have ended sooner, was about 10 years ago when I took him for a ride with me to visit a friend. At the time I had a Ford van and it was in the middle of Summer so I had the windows rolled down. Pepper had always made a habit of sitting on my lap, or sticking his head out my window from my lap. Keeping in mind that he was a little poodle, he would have to put his front paws on my arm which would be resting along the top of the door. His rear paws were on my lap, and his head would arch out as far as his little body could make it. I kept my arm there in order to prevent him from trying to jump out the window.

However, I was too slow to react. Or more precisely, Pepper was just too damn quick! As I was approaching the house of my friend who lived on a typical on a side street, I was forced to slow to a crawl as another vehicle, a Ford F150, was coming along the opposite direction. We were about to pass each other when suddenly I felt Pepper’s back paws leave my lap, and reached my arm and he launched himself from my window directly in front of the Ford F150! I immediately stopped as well as the driver of the F150. We had both stopped so quickly that our vehicles were side by side. I jumped out running looking around the truck, expecting to see Pepper running around towards the kids nearby. He was always a super-friendly dog and would run up to just about anybody to greet them. However I saw no signs of him anywhere, until I looked under the F150.

Pretty much right where he landed he was flopping around like a fish out of water. The scene was horrific! One of his hind legs were stuck over his head and he had been twisted in a grotesque form, or like some great yoga master capable of bending themselves in extraordinary ways.

I swiftly ducked under the F150, as the driver was coming out apologizing and somewhat frightened by what had just happened. I tried to keep my dog from flopping around in my arms, while I gingerly attempted to move legs back to where they ought to be. I then put him into my van, where he continued to flop around, some body parts were not quite where they were still, but I was at a loss and in shock of what to do. I had a quick conversation with the F150 driver and asked if he knew where the nearest vet was. I wasn’t familiar with the area, so I took directions as best I could and hopped back into my van to take him immediately there.

When I got back into the van, Pepper had stopped flopping around, and was quietly sitting and staring at me with sad painful eyes. He was in a pose not unlike the majestic Sphinx in Egypt. I recall saying to him, “Don’t you die on me!”

I found the vet, but I am not sure it was the one the F150 driver said, but I ended up stopping at the first one I spotted. I was fully prepared, or expected, to be putting him down if he had sustained serious injury. He wasn’t visibly bleeding, nor did it appear he was cut up at all. The vet did say he may be bleeding internally, and that was a great concern for them. However after keeping him under observation, and the threat of internal bleeding was dismissed, I was able to bring him home that same day.

Amazingly enough, after the 3-4 hour stint in the vet for observation he had suffered zero broken bones in the fall. Other than being very sore, he was pretty much unscathed. Within a week or so he was back into his normal form again.

The yellow booty

The yellow booty was an endless source of entertainment for us, and Pepper was extremely keen on it. We would play throw the booty for hours, and he would always bring it back to you to throw it again for him. Of course, you kind of had to pry it from his claw like grip and through his rolling growls. He would deftly flip it around his paws and nudge expertly with his nose to get the booty at the right angle for him to grab with his tiny jaws.

This squeak toy was the main toy of choice for Pepper, until we “acquired” a new puppy in the household. We will call this “the time before Porter” when the rescued puppy was still too small to be a match for Pepper.

Due to many stages of construction in our house and the need to fix things here and there as we grew into our home. Pepper was always near by to prance around our feet and generally be in the way. Often it was with his favorite booty wedged into his mouth that he was chasing you around with looking for you to drop whatever you were doing and throw it for him.

There was at one time a small hole in the main floor where we had a floor register converted to a wall variety. A gap of about 3 inches by 10 inches was at the base of the floor and wall. The hole went straight into the basement. Pepper was always mindful of this area, and gave it great leeway, however one day as we were playing with his booty, I managed to toss it over the hole so that the booty was stuck precariously in the opening. As fearless as he was, he was tentative to getting too close to that hole. It was comical to watch him stretch his front paw reaching for the booty from as far as he dared to go without getting too close to that hole in the floor.

Usually, he would be able to flip it out and away from this hole, and the size and shape of the booty often made it difficult for it to fall straight through to the basement. Pepper always treated this hole in the floor with a great deal of respect. Once I started figuring out how to get the booty to drop down into the basement with greater regularity, and the amusement of watching Pepper puzzle over the various times that it was stuck in the hole, or it plain fell in was beyond priceless.

If the booty did manage to fall down to the basement, he would get agitated that it was out of reach, and he couldn’t get to it. All it took was for me to go downstairs a couple of times, with Pepper on my heels, for him to figure out how to retrieve his booty should it fall down that hole. Soon after when the booty fell down the hole, Pepper would give the hole a good look and a sniff, then stand straight up and bolt for the basement to reappear moments later to have you throw the booty again.

We marveled at his ability to get around obstacles to get his booty too! He was clever as he was tenacious. He was tenacious with a capital T!

One day we amused ourselves by putting his booty under a plastic milk crate, thinking that would occupy his time for a while and give a necessary break from near constant booty playing. However, much to our amazement it took him no longer than about 5-10 minutes to flip the milk crate over and retrieve his precious booty. If you can think of the Golem in Lord of the Rings, “My precious…” it would fit perfectly to how Pepper acted about his booty. Obsession wouldn’t be an understatement.

The pillow

Pepper had many pillows that we allowed him to use for his pleasure. The last was the yellow one. When he finally ripped it to shreds at our feet we were amazed at the speed that he caused all the stuffing to fly out everywhere. We cleaned-up the mess and threw out his pillow and stuffing in the garbage can outside.

Poor Pepper was so morosely enthralled with that pillow that when we let him out he swiftly figured out that the “remains” of his pillow was in the garbage can. My wife and I watch the scene unfold before our very eyes and laughing hysterically at the tenacity and determination of Pepper to get to the pillow in the garbage can.

He would reach up on his hind legs and shove at the garbage can growling and barking at it in frustration. After a few minutes of this, he managed to get the garbage can into a position where he knocked it over. Unfortunately for him he knocked it over so that the opening was against the fence, and the rolling and moving garbage can didn’t allow him to enter it.

A few minutes later he managed to roll the can far enough away from the fence that he was comfortable hopping into and retrieving the remains of his mangled yellow pillow. Still laughing, we ran out to pull him away and right the garbage can and put a lid on it.

From that day forward Pepper never had another pillow. Oh, we gave him a replacement like we had done for numerous others, but he never took to a new one, and the sadness on he face when we took away his yellow pillow on that day was plain on his face.

Things we used to say that Pepper was saying

“Meef!” Our way of projecting a voice for Pepper, and his wish for all things that are meat, or beef related when he was hungry.

“It must be above, fitty.” Otherwise, it is too cold for him outside. Especially when he just got back from the beauty parlor.

“Five dollars.” (referencing to his poops and Pepper’s perception of their value)

“Daddy, where did Momma go? Where did you put her!?”

“Mine!” (Pepper was a very possessive dog.)

Pepper had a way of running around the house looking for my wife if she managed to get away from him for more than a few minutes. The expression was clearly that he was on the hunt for wherever my wife was, and wouldn’t stop until he located her.

He would always be close by, and tended to favor following my wife around relentlessly. We were forever watching out for him when we were on the move, but sometimes he would get himself in your way and we’d inadvertently step on him, or kick him from time to time. We often called “Mr. Underfoot” because of this.

Nevertheless, he was our constant companian at home, and loved nothing more than for us to be seated on the couch, and himself nudged up against in his little sleep-ball.

The bark

The bark everyone that ever met him could hear for miles. It was ear-splitting loud and sharp! His many barks was a language all to its own.

He had the “someone is walking by the door” bark, which was usually an all out bark-fest of an endless series of repeated barks. There was the “someone at the door” bark, which was similar to the “walking by” bark, but even more insistent and more rapid.

There was the “I gotta go out” bark, which was just a single short bark while he was by the door. The same bark was used to be let back into the house. A similar bark to the “I gotta go” was the “I am hungry” bark. It may sometimes be followed with a double bark, but most often a single sharp bark.

Each bark was sharp as a loud clap and has been known drive people away to avoid the stinging in their ears. It is this sudden silence I now hear that pains me the most. I keep listening for him to want to “go out”, or barking at just about anything that walk by our house that he may have spotted. And he spotted most everything too!

Pepper’s little dark eyes held incredible intelligence, and was capable of a million little expressions that I cannot possibly name them all. They were each as human as expressions of happiness, joy, sadness, pain, weariness, and fierce with emotion. Pepper was so filled with unbridled energy. He could go from a dead sleep to full-throttle speed awake in the blink of an eye.

Pee stretches and pee spots

What can be said here? He was an alpha male and was forever peeing here and there. It took me quite some time, when we first got him, to train him to go to the door and bark to go out. However, the “little guy” had a tiny bladder, and sometimes he just couldn’t hold it for too long! Pee-spot!

We quickly began to learn his typical potty habits, which almost always started with him suddenly getting up from nap and doing his “pee-stretch” and slow wandering his way to the back door. Sometimes he would “forget” that he should go outside, and you could follow him around and see his nose sniffing around for a spot before he realized you were “watching” . The instant guilty look on his face said it all.

He constantly communicated to us with body language, and short insistent barks, to what his needs were. We have so many terms like, the “pee-stretch” or the “poo-stretch” when he would wake up and move around from a nap on the couch and arch his back with his chest low to the ground and his butt high in the air and his front legs would be stretch long in front of him. Like clock-work he would wander to the back door and give us one of his sharp single barks to let us know he was ready to go out.

He was extremely agile and even as fast as a cat. Pepper was fully capable of walking on his hind legs like a furry little child. He was able to jump up to a height of three feet from the floor to our bed with ease until he was too old to make such leaps. After that we feared he would hurt himself jumping off the bed and landing hard on the floor (which he did from time to time) and so we started the habit of picking him up and putting him in bed with us, or picking him up and placing him on the ground.

He slept with us every night without fail. He would usually curl himself between me and my wife to the point we would constantly be mindful to not squish him between us at night. Eventually, he would end up on one of our sides, and curl precariously near the edge of the bed near our feet or nudge against our hip.

Pepper was a fighter, and he was a biter. If he didn’t like the way you touched him, you were going to get bit. He would comfortably sit on your lap and if he trusted you, he would allow you to gently massage his shoulders, ears, neck and hind quarters. He would never let anybody touch his paws, and rarely let anybody touch his face or top of his head.

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