Who's An Animal? Pepper or Me?

It isn't that things are so slow around here that there's nothing else to blog about other than our dog, but then again, you must realize that I've been ill this week, we've been somewhat house-bound due to the snow, and I've spent a lot of time on the couch with the dog draped around my neck. Yes, literally. As long as my head and her body stay "just so" on the arm of the couch the situation is tolerable.

It obviously isn't her color that caused anyone to associate the name Pepper with our dog when we first adopted her from the shelter. It comes from the fact that she has lots of pep. "Lots" is an understatement. This dog should be on meds for ADHD. Due to her abundant energy there are times when situations are not quite so tolerable.

In the ten minutes or so that it took me to put together last night's post about her being a cross between a chocolate lab and a meth lab she destroyed 1 empty Amazon book box (the books were rescued), the bottom of my woven laundry hamper (if only this meant the end of doing laundry), and 2 or 3& empty food product boxes (the person responsible for taking out the trash was then told to get the job done pronto!). In other words, it took me longer to clean up after the dog than it did to write about her. Forget that post! She's not part meth lab. This dog is a cross between a labrador retriever and tasmanian devil!

After my exertion I sat on the couch to read. It wasn't long before the dog was on my lap. Really. All 55 pounds of her sitting squarely upright on my lap. This was quite a hindrance to reading so I moved her aside. This resulted in a pinching sensation. It was Pepper's teeth nipping at my arm in the manner that a human would use to devour an ear of corn: nibble, move, nibble, move; back and forth and up and down. It dawned on me that she thought my sweater-covered appendage was a stuffed animal. All such prized toys were moved long ago into protective custody, but once in awhile Pepper will go on a seek-and-destroy mission as though under contract by the mafia. Great wads of quilt batting or plastic pellets will be found on the floor to signal their demise. Sometimes there isn't much left to make a positive identification of the victim. Have you ever had to clean up the innards of a decimated Beanie Baby? It's a gruesome task and one I loathe, almost as bad as contacting the owner of the keepsake with the bad news.

The reason for her obsession with these playthings is not clear. We buy her toys of her own. Unfortunately, most of them come with at least one and sometimes two squeakers sewn into them. Pepper is also obsessed by these squeakers. She either produces the sound non-stop or removes the offending squeakers post-haste. I'm not sure which I find more annoying, the relentless repetitive noise made by a toy void of removable batteries or the destruction of a brand new purchase for which I've just laid out hard-earned cash.

I figured out last night that this was what the dog was doing as she nibbled her way methodically up and down my arm. She was looking for a squeaker. And she found it! I finally managed to escape to another room where I could put a closed door between us.

I pondered on what it was that made her compare my arm with a stuffed animal. It was probably the sweater I was wearing. This also explains the recent attacks when I've been wearing my fleecy bathrobe.

Since such clothing are standard cold-weather garb around here it's going to be a long winter! Most just hope to survive the season of cold and snow. I have the added worry of being chewed by a dog that mistakes me for stuffed animals. Somewhere out there are 6 other families who own Pepper's litter-mates. I'm thinking of asking the puppy rescue place for their names and numbers. Maybe they'd be interested forming a support group.

(The events told here are true but the telling of them are in jest. No people or animals are in any danger of being seriously harmed. Yet.)