Pepper the Intrepid


We interrupt this normally quite serious blog which endeavors to discuss, debate, and dissect important literary issues, objects and paraphernalia of the day to discuss my new dog. Pepper.

Because it’s my blog, that’s why.

OK, first of all I really don’t do much debating or dissecting on this blog because it’s only me running my mouth on various and assorted literary-type topics (kinda) that appeal to me at the time I sit down at the keyboard to share them with you, the reader, because I figured hey, you’d probably want to to know. It interests me so why shouldn’t  it interest you, right?

It’s easy to become self-centered when you’re locked away in a room for hours at a time imagining another world somewhere, then trying to sketch it out to convince other humans this place truly exists. But then that’s just the sci fi. Because then there’s this other stuff that I write…

Which leads us back again to…

Pepper. The Intrepid.

Pepper is a very (very)  small dog that my wife and I invited into the family about a month ago. Part of the reason was because our (much) older and (much much) larger dog Jam needed a little brother to keep him company and otherwise occupied. The other reason is that we used to have another Pepper who we adopted from the Humane Society several years ago, but he died last year following a very painful incident that I’d prefer not to go into detail about because it just…

Dog people know, and dog people understand.

So we named the new addition to the family Pepper because it felt right to keep Pepper alive and with us. And after about two minutes of quietly adjusting himself to his new surroundings after saying goodbye to his mother and siblings on the other side of town, Pepper has proven to be what most puppies prove themselves to be, which is incredibly, sometimes excruciatingly, alive. He races around the house like a furry little five-pound motor car, he follows Jam wherever he goes, then begs him to play incessantly. To which Jam usually responds, “Dude. I’m 91 years old. There’s a ball over there in the corner. Fetch.”

Which Pepper dutifully does.  Before he tires of the ball and then runs back to me and begins chewing on my slippers (or shoes, or socks, or bare feet). So I finally pick him up and put him on  the sofa next to me so he can start chewing on my sleeve. Or any available finger.

Tomorrow all over again. And I love it….


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Writer and musician.

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