Pepper, Son of Chico - Chapter 2

 I have looked high and low, and still can't find an accurate representation of what the "real Pepper" looked like, so I decided to use this little drawing of a happy little dog...

If you didn't read my previous installment to this story, Pepper was a small dog, nearly all as black as midnight on a moonless night, with only a tiny dribble of white on his chin, a small patch of white on his chest, and only the tip of his tail was white.

His eyes bulged as his heritage on his mom's side had some Pekingese in it.  He looked much like a committee of about fifteen people who couldn't agree on anything had assembled him, and then gave him an overbite just for good measure. Since Pepper's mother was a mix between Pomeranian, Pekingese and Chihuahua, one might reasonably expect that the litter would probably be long haired.  But, only Pepper had been condemned to have short hair, and broad shoulders, narrow hips, and legs slightly shorter than one might expect.

This little guy was build as solid as a rock though, with not an ounce of fat on his body. He was solid muscle.  I don't think Pepper was ever bored, or in a bad mood.  He was always ready for whatever you were, and willing to do anything you asked of him.

Pepper was always ready to go with me in the car if I was heading out for anything at all, gas, groceries, or just a drive.  He would wait and watch me to see what I was doing, and at any hint that I was going someplace, he would get in front of me and just spin in circles, over and over again, until I said, "Pepper, want to go bye-bye?" I'd pat my tummy, and he'd make a bit leap up, and run up the rest of the way to my arms.  He knew he was going with me, it was just a matter of his being invited.  He never jumped up for any other reason but to get in my arms to go out, and ride in the car.

When I married, and left home, I really hated leaving any of the dogs behind, and as things turned out, I should have taken at least two of them with me.  The only reason I didn't was that our place was fenced in, and I was also living rather close to a busy road, and was concerned about the possibility of them getting off a chain, and onto the road, and being killed.

My parents left California after I married, and though I thought they had taken all the dogs with them, my Dad had left Pal and Cuddles behind with the people who moved into  their place. As soon as I knew they had been left, my husband and I drove down to see about getting the two.  I was too late, and they had already been taken to the Animal Shelter, and euthanized.

That was in 1964, and I have still, to this day, wondered why someone in my family didn't tell me that I really had to come get Pal and Cuddles, because they couldn't take them to El Paso with them.

A few years later...