Rest easy, Perfect Pepper

(It’s long)

My California King.

My lil Prince.

My Peppercino.

My perfect Pepper.

There are a thousand ways I could start this, but none of them feel big enough to hold what you are to me.

You weren’t just my dog. Of course you weren’t, none of them ever are.

You were my constant, my shadow, my safety, my home. Loving you was the gift of a lifetime.Thank you for trusting me. For protecting me. Watching you finally relax all those years ago, perhaps for the first time in your life, was the honor of mine.

Thank you for eating anything that fell on the floor and for licking away my tears. For seeing me the way only someone who loves all of me could.You came with me everywhere; Canada, New York, Mexico, Big Sur… all over California really, Utah, Joshua Tree, HorseShoe Bend anywhere I went you would follow. Every single thrift store in America, first dates, auditions & pitches (you were a consummate professional but it was still very crazy on my part), meetings.

You always understood the assignment; if it was a lazy day eating take out in bed, you’d lie beside for as many hours as warranted. If it was a hike, you’d make it to the top of any mountain. You sat quietly at my feet on planes, on trains, in restaurants, always perfectly chill.

How I got so lucky, I’ll never know. What I do know is love proved worth its cost. I guess, clichés exist for a reason.

You made me feel so needed, and I didn’t know I yearned for that till I got it. You never let anyone walk you but me. You were always there, at my feet while I worked, while I cooked. There was never a moment I thought you’d stray.

And the only time you ever ran away was when someone else was watching you. And the thing is, I knew you weren’t running away. You were just looking for me.

Thank you for loving my children so gently, so intuitively. When you were accidentally left behind after I put them to bed (because of course you were always there for that) you didn’t bark. You made the smallest sound, your nose tucked just under the door, just enough for me to hear you without waking them. You knew. You always knew.

You licked their little newborn heads the moment you met them.

You were my literal road dog. It was just me and you, kid, for so long. My wins and losses, every bad dude, every weird late night, every stupid and good choice, every joy. My wedding, my pregnancies and births. My constant. Mysti always said you were the most soulful dog she’d ever met, with eyes that communicated like a human. And she was a mystical, magical witch, so she knew what she was talking about.

People always stopped to ask about you. I’d tell them your age, and then I’d follow it up immediately with: “But he promised me that he’d live forever, so that’s pretty cool.”

I said it as a cheesy joke but also because I hoped if I said it enough, it could come true.

It’s the deal we make. To love this deeply is to risk this kind of loss. The grief feels like it could swallow me whole. But what a priviledge to experience it. This unconditional, uncomplicated, so very easy love. You asked for nothing and gave me everything. I really, really tried to give you the best life in return. I was acutely aware of my luck here. I won the lottery with you.

I’ll feel you in every walk I take. In the warmth of the air when I don’t expect it. In the quiet. In the flowers, in the birds. In all the small moments that used to be ours. Every time I see a dog I’ll think of you.

It was always meant to be, you and me. I saw that IG post about you and drove straight to the adoption agency on the other side of town. No plans of getting a pet. No real thought. Just a deep, guttural knowing. I walked in and screamed, “I’m here for Pepper!” They didn’t really get it but I didn’t need them to.

They told me about how you were kicked in the head and blind in one eye because of it. They told me you could be reactive and the truth is, same. I wanted to be cautious as I drove home, I wanted you to feel safe in my care. So it took me hours to get back. Driving one mile a minute, looking back every two.

Today, as I drove, with you by my side - tears streaming down my face - 3 bikers spread out in front of me and basically blocked my way. I laughed for the first time in days. They were slowing me down. I inched my way to the vet, the exact same pace I did the day I met you.

I am always looking for signs and this was another one.

It’s the same clarity that I had back then that told me now was your time. You prepared me for this. Gently. One shift, then another, communicating with me in ways only I could understand. I saw it. But more than that, I felt it. And when I wasn’t sure, you told me.

Because of you, I didn’t wait until it was too late. I didn’t hold on for myself. You ushered me into this life that I have now. I wasn’t sure if I could care for another being back then. And fast forward more than a decade later and here I am with a full life and two tiny people depending on me. Thank you for walking me into this chapter, it’s now my time to walk you into yours.

It was the privilege of my life to be there with you. To walk beside you. To help you across.

And I know it was only your body that is leaving. Everything else, I get to keep.

I love you. I love you. I’ll love you until the end

time and back again.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Pepper, forever.

Xx

(Friends- please don’t let me get a tattoo for at least six months)