For me it was yesterday.  I came home from the university around 8 p.m.  Julie was in the kitchen, and Pepper and Basil were wildly barking, like they do whenever I (not a burglar) come home.  It must be part of the fun(?) of being a dog.

Pepper kicked it up a doggie notch.  She was crazily scratching at the door – the Pomeranian equivalent of a Czechoslovakian “wild and crazy guy!”  I've never witnessed Pepper being this wild.  She was going nuts!  I quickly approached the door (I was still outside) and yelled "Pepper, NOOO!!!!" desperately hoping no one in my neighborhood was outside to hear me.  I struggled to get the door unlocked so that I could get inside and scare Pepper away from the door, hoping she hadn't damaged it with her damn dog claws.

This is my return for providing this odd animal with a warm home and plenty of top-grade dog food.

The instant I set foot inside, Pepper bulleted under the dining room table.  I coaxed her out, picked her up, took her to the door where I smacked her a few times, hoping (surely in vain) that Pepper would put 2 and 2 together and figure out I was very displeased with her clawing my door up.

Pepper has trained me to IMMEDIATELY check her poop hole after I beat her.  Sometimes Pepper thinks dropping a turd out will make her feel better or something.  Have you heard of the “fight or flight” adrenal reaction humans have?  Pepper has the “yelp or poop” mechanism.

No turd, to my brief relief.

About five minutes later, I come to the realization that Pepper used a new trick on me:  the "delayed, post-beating, turd house-mine"  I realized this when I returned to the living room and saw a half-human-shoe-smooshed turd all over my freshly cleaned floor.

Well, turd mine-layers certainly do not go unpunished in my household!  I beat her again, this time verbally insulting her in the process.  The verbal insults more helping me feel better than making Pepper feel worse, like I could make Pepper feel bad about herself by calling her a name.

When I beat Pepper, she realizes that I am pissed and that she will be hurting.  I wish, I wish, I wish there were some way for Pepper to truly understand just how disgusted I am with her and ashamed I am that I own her.

Then came time to clean my shoe, try to find out where I had inadvertently "tracked turd" through my home, and thus perform the necessary cleaning.

All this comes as great fun, especially moments before I was supposed to sit down to a nice, home-cooked meal.

Thank you Pepper for once again ruining my evening in the best way you know how:  Act stupid, poop, and then somehow get the person who beat you to unknowingly step in it and smear it all over the floor.
 

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