Pepper's Dog Blog

I didn’t notice it at first, but I was lying on my back the other day and realized that one of my carpal pads is pink and the other one is black. Seems like I’ve got a bit of carpal syndrome going on. Probably too much typing for the blog. I tend to use my left paw a bit more when pounding the keyboard in pursuit of a deadline. I put an ad in Crateslist for a secretary to handle some of the typing chores, but only three cats, all of questionable reputation being toms, one hamster and a guinea pig replied. I’m not opposed to male secretaries, but the cats didn’t seem to fit in with Pepper’s family blog. One even sent me a suggestively rude response to my “We’re sorry, but your qualifications  ….” email. I rest my case. Ms. hamster was well-read having gone through the Bones N’ Crates 14 volume Amazing Animal Literature Classics, including my favourite, Gaston And Josephine, but she was a bit fidgety, and lacked a sense of humour. I wasn’t sure about working with a guinea pig, but she assured me she really was an agouti. However, she was one of those hairless ones called Skinny Pigs. Not sure about having a skinny pig for a secretary. “Oink, this is Ms. Skinny Pig … I’m sorry, Pepper’s in an editorial meeting. How can I help you?” Not the image I’m looking for. Plus, her speling and grammer was a bit weaks. Pass. So I was back to square one. Hunt and peck. Hunt and peck. I thought I’d call the vet in to get his opinion, but I was afraid he’d recommend a blood transfusion or something. So, I’m down to using my right paw for this blog.

Ever since my first day at the beach, I’ve developed a taste for little crab claws. The ones at the beach were salted. And the folks at the animal protection society will be happy to know they had been discarded by the crabs. The land cousins of the sea crabs, all of about two inches big, still are a good source of calcium. But they are much harder to come by around the yard. I have some stiff competition for them. George. That’s what I call him. George is a Yellow-Crowned Night-Heron. He’s got cool black markings around his eyes. I can relate. But George is over two feet tall. That’s taller than the waves down at the beach! He’s like the Godzilla of birds compared to the others around here. And his favourite food is, cover your ears Skamp, little red crabs. http://www.amazon.com/The-Little-Red-Crab-Hellman/dp/1615666354.

George lives for the chase, if you can call it that. George can stand perfectly still as a statue for what seems like an eternity for a puppy like me who has a hard time sitting still for more than a second. Unless, of course, I’m snoozing away dreaming of the treat truck making deliveries. So George stalks around the yard, scouting out a prime location. Then he freezes. Sometimes for entire minutes. If one of those crabs decides to take a walk-about, well George moves in the blink of an eye, his darting beak laser-fast. Breakfast served. He usually eats up on the roof. Most of his leftovers usually end up in the rain gutter far away from me. I wonder if Bones N’ Crates sells puppy planes? I understand some Beagle named Snoopy use to fly around in one.

Well, seeing as how George gets the lion’s share and I get the leftovers, I thought I would try my hand at catching crabs. This sitting still part is really hard. I tried it a few times and never got past three seconds. Then, I figured I would imitate George being perfectly still, just sitting on my two back legs. I kept falling over. Next, I tried stealth. I’d peek around the corner, wait for a crab to walk out just far enough, and then pounce. Totally fruitless pursuit. George makes it look so easy.

Well, Bones N’ Crates doesn’t sell any planes. Drats. However, thumbing through the catalog, that’s a joke folks, I came across another interesting device … a fishing pole! The tricky bit seems to be baiting the hook without thumbs. This is not a joke. And seeing as how I’m down to one paw at the moment …. Hmm, maybe I should place an ad for a retired Night-Heron willing to go 50-50.

Most mornings, Mrs. human gets up and exercises. And most of those mornings, she also takes me for a walk. Now this may sound easy for all you bipeds, but trust me, a puppy just walking while out and about, well it’s not as easy as it appears. First off, puppies are curious more than just about anything else except accepting a treat, of course. Mention the words, “You want to go for a walk?” and I’m already hyperventilating and bouncing about two feet in the air. As soon as the leash comes out, then I’m trotting posthaste directly for the exit gate as I hardly can contain myself. And this is the puppy conundrum. Containment.

A leash is a form of containment. A puppy is a form of free flowing energy led helter-skelter by our noses.  So every morning I get hooked up with a nice red leash, and it’s me and Mrs. human out to see the world. You have to understand, that being a puppy I WANT TO RUN. And AS FAST AS I CAN. For AS LONG AS I CAN. The leash on the other hand really puts a damper on this proclivity of mine. It’s the immovable object versus the irresistible force. I’m the irresistible one in case you had any doubts here. Okay, Mrs. human does move. But at a snail’s pace. I prefer puppy pace. It’s not long before something along the road smells really good. I follow my nose only to have the leash stop me in my tracks. I sort of stop for a second, look at Mrs. human, who’s’ tugged on the leash, and she says “Good girl, Pepper.” Just once I’d like to smell something, pulling Mrs. human along with me, and then saying, “Good girl, Mrs. human.” But it’s pure physics. Her mass definitely out masses me.

This has been going on for sometime now, and we sort have worked out a compromise. I don’t get to smell everything along the way, but I get plenty to keep me going. Although, I do get a bit pooped, no high odor pun intended, by the end of the walk on the warmer mornings. I guess if I ran the same distance, I wouldn’t get quite as far. So Mrs. human may be smarter than I give her credit. But, I did hear Mr. human telling Mrs. human that if I learn to follow her lead, some day I will be unleashed. Emancipation Day here I come. So I’m much more focused on the walking, curbing my enthusiasm as it were. And I think I’m getting pretty good at it … most of the time. Those birds always mess me up. What is it about me and birds? I see one, and I have to go after it. Talk about genetic compulsion. And do you have any idea how many birds there are in the world? I checked with the Bones N’ Crate Bird Book … Gazillions!! And I think all of them inhabit the trees along our walk. So, you can see, Emancipation Day sort of ebbs and flows with the birds.

But I discovered something pretty cool. When it’s really raining on our walks, the birds stay away. And when the birds stay away, I can do the walking thing pretty good. So the art of walking, in the rain, helps me get one day closer to RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN AS LONG AS I CAN.