A Warm and Pleasant Memory

It’s said that boys and dogs go together like peanut butter and jelly. Dad must have believed this for though he never cared much for animals, he saw to it that my brothers and I always had a dog during our years at home. One dog in particular that we owned will always hold a special place in my heart.

Pepper, a Pekinese-Cocker Spaniel cross, became part of our family when I was just seven years old. She was a birthday present to me and she was a fur-ball of a dog with the interesting feature of having hind legs that were bigger than her front ones. This created a humorous scene when she’d run down hill, for her front legs couldn't keep up with her back ones, causing her to run sideways, hind quarters even with her front. She was a funny sight but she was my dog and I loved her.

From the time she was a pup, Pepper and I spent a lot of time together. Sometimes Mom and Dad would let her lie beside me at bedtime until I fell asleep--but that came to an abrupt end for a while after the night Pepper and I got to wrestling around and, in her playful puppy way, she bit down on my ear and proceeded to play tug-of-war with it. As the old saying goes I bled like a stuck pig. But that’s the way of puppies; they love to chew on things, and though I was left with a scarred ear no one blamed Pepper for the wound.

As stated earlier, Pepper was a ball of fur and sometimes when rough housing she’d clamp down on the end of a rag, and I’d drag her around behind me, polishing the linoleum kitchen floor with her furry little body.

As we grew up together, Pepper and I became more and more inseparable. During the school year our routine was basically the same; I would arrive home from school, grab something to eat, sit down beside my dog, and tell her about my day as I shared my food with her. Then we’d head across the street to run in the forest.

Growing up in a small town on the Oregon coast there was plenty of forest for us to explore, and most days, one could usually find me in the forest building a fort, playing army, or maybe a game of hide-and-seek with friends. What ever I was involved in, Pepper could be found right beside me, wagging her tail and, so it seemed to me, smiling.

Besides being a compatible companion, Pepper was also a friend who would listen to me and who loved me unconditionally. When the world seemed unfair, many was the time I’d disappear to the garage or the patio, sit down beside Pepper, and while hugging her neck I’d sob on her shoulder as I told her my troubles. She always sat patiently listening, making no judgments, giving me a reassuring lick across my arm every once in a while.

Now, during summer vacations my brothers and I would spend several weeks with my grandparents on their farm in Idaho. As much as I loved spending my summers there, I would get terribly homesick, and by the end of my stay I was always anxious to get back home to my parents and, of course, my dog.

Once I was home, I’d fill Pepper in on all my activities during my time in Idaho and then we’d find something to do—play fetch with a ball, chase each other around the yard, go hiking and exploring, what ever came to mind.

Sometimes, in celebration of my return from the farm, Pepper was allowed to sleep next to me on my bed for a night or two. That came to an abrupt end the summer of my eleventh year, and my young heart was broken in a way I’d never thought possible.

My brothers and I had just returned from spending our vacation on our grandparents’ farm. We burst through the front door of our house and ran to the living room to receive welcome-home hugs from our parents. After hugs were exchanged and my siblings and I recounted our summer adventure, I asked Mom where Pepper was.

“Uh, Bob,” Mom said to Dad as she rolled her eyes in my direction, “where’s Pepper?”
Dad took me aside and explained to me that while I was at the farm my beloved dog was seriously injured by a car as she attempted to cross the street. It was plain to see she was dying and in a lot of pain, so Dad asked a neighbor if he’d take our dog and put her out of her misery. The neighbor obliged.

Somehow, I was able to hold back mourning for my dog throughout the day. But that night, while lying in bed with no Pepper beside me, I sobbed uncontrollably. My Pepper was gone and I felt like a piece of my heart had been torn right out of my chest.

That night, and for many nights thereafter, I cried my self to sleep, but with time the tears dried and Pepper became a warm and pleasant memory.

Now when I look back on my life I understand the important role Pepper played in my childhood development and can’t help but realize that there truly is something special about the relationship between a boy and his dog.

So Pepper, you and all the other dogs that have been my pals over the years, keep a warm spot for me up there in Heaven, and when it’s my time leave the surly bonds of earth, what a reunion we will have.