My Pepsy

Me, Pepsy (in front), & my sister's sweet dog Frosty. 
I've obscured my friend's image behind me, out of 
respect for her privacy.  

I'll never forget my birthday in 1972. I was eleven years old. My parents had surprised me with a tiny, brownish-black, squirming bundle of cute. I remember the delight I had when that little puppy entered my world. I loved drinking soda back then...still do. Although I am a Coke drinker now, the cola brand that graced our refrigerator shelves when I was growing up, was Pepsi. Not being quite sure what to name my new puppy, somehow, the color of her fluffy fur reminded me of the color of the Pepsi in our fridge. Of course I didn't want to spell my puppy's name the same way that the cola was spelled, so her name became Pepsy instead.  

Pepsy's favorite place to lie was under the covers,
while lying across my neck. Even when I got up,
she loved the cozy comfort of my bed. She's the little dark 
ball curled up near the pillow, in this picture.

Pepsy did what all puppies do. She chewed, she cried, & she whined at being left alone. I remember that first night, when my parents placed her in a little box beside my bed, with a hot water bottle & a towel next to her, to give her comfort. She cried & cried, & finally settled down to sleep. Well, that was too much for me, & she slept in my bed with me from that point forward. Her favorite position was when I was lying on my side, & she would lie across the crook of my neck. I loved when she snuggled that way. She was part terrier, & part poodle. As she grew, her fur changed from cola-colored fluff, to a salt-&-pepper wiry gray. She was small, but had long, spindly legs. My Pepsy was kind of funny-looking, yet she was the most beautiful dog in the world. 

Housebreaking, ah yes, that was an adventure. My family & I trained Pepsy with the typical laying down of the newspaper for her to do her business, & then taking her outside so that she associated going potty with going outside. That worked 95% of the time. It never seemed to fail however, when we'd be getting ready to have company over, & would be setting the table in our dining room, that we'd discover a solid mass of unpleasantness near the dining room table, or my sister would step in a place of wetness on the carpet, right next to where we were preparing to eat. My poor sister. Every time a snail or slug was discovered outside, she was the one who discovered it - in her bare feet. She was also the one who seemed to always find the dog messes in the dining room, while wearing no shoes. 

Pepsy was a smart dog however. She always knew when she was in trouble. I'd show her the mess, she'd look at me with the most pitiful, sorrowful eyes, & then as I'd get down on my knees to scold her, she'd climb up on my lap, put her front legs around my neck, & then would hug me with her head pressed close to mine. It was her way of saying she was sorry, & of asking me to please forgive her. It happened enough times that any time she misbehaved in any fashion, I'd just simply have to tell her to say she was sorry, & she'd climb on my lap & give me that hug.  

Pepsy was the best dog ever. No lie. Well actually, she was the best dog ever back then. I've since had other dogs that were the best dog ever too. Let's face it - dogs are just the best. It's so hard to say one is better than another when they are all the best. That contradictory statement will not make sense to anyone except to those who have ever loved a dog like their best friend. 

Pepsy was a little dog, but she had long legs & a fantastic ability to jump. I rarely bent down to pick her up because she would just jump into my arms. She knew the obvious commands such as sit, stay, down, out & so on, but I didn't really teach her a lot of other tricks. When a little dog can leap several feet in the air in a single bound, then what need is there for tricks, if she was only missing the cape to make her Superdog?! She loved to lie in the grass in my parents' backyard, with the sun on her face & the breeze in her fur. Sparrows often dive-bombed her though. That was her entertainment, & I suspect it was as entertaining for the birds as it was for her. She was perfectly able to catch a bird who flew too close, & she actually did catch one a time or two, but she didn't want to hurt it. She would catch it & let it go. Most of the time, the birds swooped down upon her, she'd bark that high-pitched bark of hers, that I can still hear to this day, some 28 years after her last bark, & she'd jump high in the air like a dog catching a Frisbee, only the Frisbee was a bird. Man, I miss that little dog!.

Growing up in the 1960's & 1970's, dogs weren't pampered the way they often are today. When Pepsy had a bath, I filled up a tall kitchen trashcan (cleaned of course) with soapy warm water from the garden hose that had been sitting in the hot sun. I'd fill it half-way so that Pepsy wouldn't panic, & then in she went. She would drape her front paws over the top of the wastebasket, & I'd soap her up. Her sheer delight & constant shaking off of her fur, & then the running around like a cat after using a litter box, was a source of entertainment. Of course she would be praised & told "oh look at PEPSY...what a PRETTY girrrrl she is!".  She loved the praise. She'd usually get a Milkbone dog biscuit afterwards. 

Pepsy never minded getting a bath because
she knew there would be lots of praise & a treat afterwards!

Oh here's another thing about Pepsy. Like most dogs, she was always nearby when the family was eating. We didn't worry about letting her lick the plates clean when we had just a few scraps of food left, because the dish would go in the dishwasher, & nothing on the plate could hurt her. She had such a high metabolism, that we didn't worry about her getting fat from table scraps. But, we had no idea when we constantly gave her M&M's, that chocolate can be toxic for dogs (so can onions, so please, don't give even a speck of onion to a dog). Thankfully she tolerated them well, because she dearly loved them. Oh, & the Pop Rocks candy that crackles & dissolves when you put it in your mouth, was a real hit when I was a kid. It wasn't so much for Pepsy though! Somehow, having one's food seem to come alive on a dog's tongue isn't fun for a dog. Side note to parents: not a good idea to let your kids do this. It's mean. 

I got married & moved into an apartment that wouldn't accept pets. I missed Pepsy so very much, but I knew she'd be happiest remaining with my parents, living in their house, & enjoying their backyard, with the dive-bombing birds, the sunshine & the fresh breeze, over being confined to a small apartment. In my second year of marriage, Pepsy was getting old. I saw her as often as I could, each time I would visit my parents. She was suffering though. She was having frequent seizures, she couldn't stand, walk, nor sit without falling over. She was too weak to eat, & she had lost control over her bowels & bladder. My mother had called me in tears, begging me to take Pepsy to the vet & put her out of her suffering. I just couldn't do it. Not my Pepsy. She was my baby, & there was no way I was going to kill my dog, or let someone else do it, shall I say. No way.

But, my Mom was begging me to at least come & see for myself, & then make the right call. I took off from work, & drove to my parents' house. I dreaded seeing my Pepsy suffering, yet I couldn't stand the thought of her having to endure another moment of pain & discomfort. When I saw her, she was indeed suffering tremendously. I couldn't bear to hear her crying out in pain, & see her shaking the way she was. I can't understand sometimes, how a dog which brought so much joy & love to our family, should have to endure what she had to endure. I made the decision to end her suffering. 

Pepsy hated going to the vet. She always knew when she was there as soon as we pulled up to the parking lot. She lay limp in my arms in the car, as my mother drove us to the vet. Once we got there, bless her precious heart, she did her "I'm sorry" thing, with what little strength she still had, as she put her paws around my neck & hugged me. Oh my goodness, I am crying as I am typing this. Anyway, I had the option of leaving her there while the vet gave my baby dog the sedative that would stop her heart. I couldn't leave her there by herself, especially knowing how much she hated going to the vet. So I lovingly & gently caressed my 15-year-old dog's fur as she breathed her last breath, then brought her home, where my Dad buried her in our backyard, covered her grave up with cement, & inscribed her name, so that her body could never be washed away due to heavy rains or erosion. For years afterwards, every time I visited my parents, I would say hello to my Pepsy at her grave, & would tell her how sorry I was that I had to do that to her, & that I loved her.

Later on, I was pregnant with my son, & I nearly died. I remember the nausea being so bad that I passed out. I had been kept alive with IVs delivering nutrients to my body, since I couldn't keep anything down, & was vomiting every 10-15 minutes, 24 hours a day, for 2-1/2 months straight. I remember being so nauseated that I felt I was going to pass out. The next thing I knew, there was my Pepsy, jumping up & down, & turning in circles, the way she used to do when she wanted me to follow her because she wanted something. I was so excited to see her, & I bent down to pet her, but then something held me back. I had the feeling I shouldn't pet her. The next thing I knew, I woke up & had to vomit. The nurse who was standing near me, told me that my blood pressure had dropped so low when I passed out, that they thought I had died. I'm not sure what to make of my experience, but I like to think that it is confirmation of what I already believe, & that is, that animals do indeed go to Heaven, & that my Pepsy is there, she is happy, & she'll be there to greet me when my time to go there comes.