text: Pepper was a dog. She was a little underweight for her size, with a speckled black and grey coat of fur that clung to her skin like a soft varnish. I never knew exactly how old she was when I got her. She had been initially given to me by my sister. Sis had picked her up from a pound half a year back as a guard dog--big enough to be thought a threat but small enough so that my sister wasn’t afraid of her. But Pepper was a sweetheart, and it wasn’t even a month before the TV had gone out the window, with Pepper only holding out as much resistance as what warranted a pat on the head, or a scratch behind the ear. Pepper didn’t get the curb because of that, however. It wasn’t until my sis had moved in with her new boyfriend, into an apartment complex that didn’t allow dogs, that Pepper had been pushed onto me. Now, I never really liked dogs. I never disliked them, mind you, but I never had a dog before. I had never taken care of any animal other than myself up until that point. I put Pepper’s dog bed in the kitchen--my house back then was a little townie with only five feet of maroon brick from the back door to the adjoining neighbor’s wall serving as a yard, not suitable for an outside dog. I placed her water bowl in the laundry room and spent the first hour or so of having her failing to figure out how to install a doggy door. I gave up and decided I’d just take her out myself until I could figure the door thing out, I went to bed frustrated, but falling asleep was not especially difficult. 2:00 AM The stabbing and offensive red digital numbers of my alarm clock informed me of the time. I don’t really remember initially getting up to piss in the night, all I know is that I did so without turning on the light in my bedroom. I stumbled sleepily to the bathroom and flipped the switch. Once I had finished I clicked the light neatly off and fumbled back towards my bedroom. I had lived in that house for a while, so I knew the way around, but even with the familiarity I had to walk past quite a steep set of old wooden stairs down to the merged kitchen/living-room, so I never took my chances in the dark. Going slowly, I brushed something soft with my knee. It was Pepper. It took me a moment to rationalize the initial jump of fright that came before the remembrance of *oh, right, I do have a dog now, don’t I?* Thinking that I must have woken her up, with a sigh and an invisible smile in the dark I gave her a quick scratch and strode past her, over to my bedroom. I lightly pushed open the well-oiled door and it swung open soundlessly. Not waiting for it to swing back and close it completely, I plopped, face first, onto my queen-size. I was greeted by wet kisses. Pepper had snuck up the stairs and into my bed while I was detained in the bathroom. It took three beats. Three clicks of the clock that ran the timing of my brain to realize what didn’t make sense. Slowly, I pushed myself up and turned in the dark to where I knew my doorway was. Another three beats. *Beat, beat, beat,* my eyes adjusted, and I saw Pepper, another Pepper. She stood silently in the doorway that had swung back open soundlessly to let her peer into my bedroom. I sat there on my bed, transfixed at something that was almost invisible in the greyish black of my room. The numbers of my clock weren’t bright enough to illuminate anything but themselves. The Pepper beside me had long since noticed the other one. She was whining and fidgeting in place, never managing a sound loud enough to be threatening. My heart was thumping. Cold sweat was drenching every part of me. The Pepper in the door way inched forward with one paw, then two steps closer, never breaking eye contact. I couldn’t see it breathing, it didn’t make any sound that I could hear over the whining and shaking beside me. I felt like my heart was going to rip out of my chest! It was on the Other Pepper’s third step that my primate brain took action. Before I knew it, out of fear and indignant fury, I had flung towards the lamp on my bedside table, pulled the chain with its distinct click, and turned as the room filled with soft light to see...! *Nothing.* There wasn’t anything there. The door must have swung back to its usual, almost closed, position, or maybe it had been that way since I had come in. But there was Pepper beside me, still shaking, not daring to look away from the spot that I was sure Other Pepper had been. It was not a dream, it wasn’t. I got up and closed the door completely, locking it and giving it a slight pull back and forth to make doubly sure of its closedness. I spent that night sleepless, lights on and huddled atop my bed with Pepper. The morning came, we broke from each other, but never so far that we lost sight of one another. After that night, Pepper slept in my bed as a permanent fixture, her bed abandoned in the kitchen. I forgoed the doggy door and stood out with her when she did her business. In turn, whenever I was in the bathroom she would lean against the door as if she was trying to assure me that she was still there, and it was still her. Whenever I came home from work she would be there at the door with fervent kisses as if saying: *hey! It’s me! It’s actually me!* It wasn’t until she died in ’02 from liver failure that that dog actually, truly left my side.