In the summer of 1970 or so, our family moved into a house on a corner in Chillicothe, Ohio*. One day we visited the house of a friend who had a spare doghouse, with no dog in residence. I don't remember anything about the house we were visiting, but I clearly remember the doghouse. It was a well-built, small house, clad with white quality aluminum siding. Above the front doorway was the name Pepper. It was a premium home for a medium sized dog.
We didn't have a dog, but we took the house home with us anyway. It didn't stay empty for long (that would have been silly). Soon we acquired a female beagle-mix puppy.
Coincidentally, her name was Pepper! (Not really, we just didn't want to change the name on the house.)
Pepper was full of energy. She quickly scored points with dad by chewing up his work shoes. She loved taking walks, nearly choking herself into unconsciousness, straining at her leash to chase anything that moved. When alone, Pepper would entertain herself by digging holes in the yard, and tossing her empty dish straight into the sky to see how high it would fly. She was also really good at howling. For naps, she liked to sleep on her roof, just like Snoopy.
Pepper was a great dog, but sadly, the house lasted longer than she did.
Note: Pepper didn't look anything like the dog pictured above.
*In a previous edition I said Kokomo, Indiana, but that was incorrect. It was a long time ago.
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