Chapter 1 #2
That his eyes aren’t opening reminds me that, with fresh water taken care of, it would be best if I found Uncle Jim’s ledger to get a grasp on the histories of these little guys.
So, I carefully make my way to Jim’s small office upstairs, finding it the cleanest room in the house so far.
And what do you know? Wood paneling on the walls still.
My laugh is automatic as I approach the wooden desk against the far wall and rummage through papers until I find the brown leather-bound book with the built-in satin red ribbon acting as a place-marker. My fingers graze the cover’s texture before I gently sit in the desk chair and open the book.
My uncle’s delicate penmanship is all over the aged pages.
At the front of the book, going back over thirty years, are lists of names, dates, backgrounds, likes, dislikes…
About ten years in, he changes his method, dedicating one page, front and back, to each animal and including a Polaroid picture of each one, glued to the page, so many of them now faded with age, turning orange and washed out.
When I come across a photo of a chocolate lab, a five-year-old me with my arms around her, grinning wide, my vision swims, my chest grows tight.
I run my fingertips across her loving face as a hot tear trails down my cheek.
Springer.
She was my first dog bond and my first ever loss.
I’ve never stopped missing her. Which is why, when my uncle left me this place, I knew I needed to honor her in the best way I could.
Uncle Jim would approve, I know it.
A tap on my knee draws my attention there to where the black terrier with the folded ears has reared up, little paws on my knee, looking up at me with those beautiful chocolate eyes.
“Hi, baby.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper.
Her head tilts inquisitively as she gives a little hop.
A request? A demand? My thought’s confirmed when I reach down and scoop her up into my arms and onto my lap, where she sits on her butt like a little person and leans back, exposing her belly, the dog tag on her collar glinting in the light with her name: NIKKI.
She snuggles into the crook of my elbow and peers up at me with those eyes, and a wave of calm washes over me. I give her ear a rub, then her little belly, and give her a light squeeze of a hug. “Thanks, girl.”
With my free hand, I flip the book to where the ribbon is settled between the pages and begin to read through the notes, associating the photos with the names and their noted preferences.
Uncle Jim always said that the pasts of these animals didn’t matter; it was their present and future we needed to focus on. Adhering to that, I don’t read their background notes, only the important things.
The small brindle-coated dog with the big, upright ears is a male named Danko, a miniature Pinscher and Chihuahua mix who loves to snuggle and play. There’s a note that he loves some odd vegetables. He’s been here for a few years now and is estimated at eight-years-old.
Crooze, the giant black dog with big, floppy ears, is an English Lab and a “water bug.” A note to be prepared if taking him to the lake, because he won’t want to get out, makes me laugh. Another note that he’s a counter-surfer has me shaking my head. He’s been here for almost half of his ten years.
There’s a cat on the next page, one I haven’t come across yet.
Beautiful and small in stature, her name is listed as “Dini,” short for Houdini.
Her fur is a medium gray, and she looks fluffy with stark green eyes.
She’s listed as twelve-years-old and a former outdoor cat, a real huntress.
There’s a note to take care if letting her back outside, that she may want to stay there, and another that she is very small, only around six pounds!
Remy—or Remington, actually—is the Boston Terrier female who made herself at home in my lap downstairs. She’s noted as being around five years old, with a good temperament, and loves to nap in the sun, either outside or in.
The black German Shepherd-like dog is named Fruitbat, which makes me blink.
But looking at her picture with that shiny black coat and those big, tall ears, I find myself nodding at the name choice.
She looks just like one of those cute bat memes.
She’s noted as being happy and very cat-friendly.
And something I didn’t notice in the kitchen: Most of her tail is missing.
It’s noted she was born that way around six years ago.
Then, there’s Pie, the male horse I met outside, listed as twenty years of age. My uncle notes that he’s very gentle and kind, and has an obsession with Pringles. The potato chips. Huh.
Gator is next, and it’s noted that his nickname is Chomp, but he’s never bitten anyone or anything, and Jim has no idea where this came from. Gator is about eleven and loves all animals and plays with the dogs.
The little cat I met downstairs, Odin, is next.
It’s noted that he’s only two and has been here basically his entire life.
He required a lot of medical care when Jim took him in, and Odin lost his eyesight very young due to his prior circumstances.
But it’s noted he gets along great, and he’s rarely without that fuzzy blue toy with the googly eye.
And last, but not least, is Nikki, the little black dog currently snoozing in my lap.
She’s listed as a Patterdale Terrier at around seven-years-old.
She’s as fast as a bullet, and a real “law dog,” my uncle notes.
She’s the first to break up any disagreements between the animals and will bite a butt if necessary.
I peer down at this angelic, napping dog and stifle a giggle. So this little cutie is going to be my enforcer. How about that?
I begin rummaging through the other paperwork on the desk, finding mostly receipts and bills, and begin compiling another list, this time on my phone. I have a lot of people to contact to ensure that everything is up to date and that nothing fell behind after Uncle Jim passed.
Lilly, Lloyd, and their pack went above and beyond, helping to care for the animals while I got my own life in order to travel out here and take over for good. I wouldn’t expect anyone to pay the bills on my behalf. But it’s Saturday, and most businesses are closed in a small town like this.
Just another thing to get done next week.
A little twinge in my chest forces a sigh from me.
This transition is going to be difficult. It’s going to be a whole new world for me, and for the animals.
But I’m going to make it work. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.
And, without my family.
Being the baby, the only girl, and only Omega to come from the Pepper pack has always come with its own issues.
Even in a huge city like Los Angeles, just about everyone knew all of us on sight.
The rare city-dwelling pack, from a long line of pack lineages, surrounded by monogamous pairings, has always been an oddity, a fascination.
If my family hadn’t been so wealthy and successful, I doubt we’d have been accepted the way we are, instead looked at like some weirdos. Cultists.
And don’t get me wrong, we would still get those looks. My parents are asked inappropriate questions all the time by people who either don’t know any better or don’t care about politeness.
We’ve all learned to take it in stride.
My whole life, the Pepper name has haunted me, loomed over my soul like a dark shadow, dictating everything I did in my life. Every decision.
Until now.
Leaving my cushy job in L.A. to come to this “podunk” town and take care of pets in need is not what a normal Pepper would do. Only that outcast, Jim.
But it’s what Adley would do, too. What I am doing. It’s the destiny that I’d dreamed of since I was a little kid, the only one of the Pepper children who spent time with “crazy” Uncle Jim.
Crazy for wanting to pave his own way in life. For wanting to help make the world a better place.
My brothers were always too busy playing summer sports or going to some business camp for kids to prepare for corporate life. They never visited.
But this is where I belong. Where my heart feels free.
Uncle Jim obviously knew this, despite my not visiting in a long time. He must have heard the deflation in my voice when we’d talk on the phone, the helplessness. The depression.
And he left me everything he had. Trusted me to carry on his legacy.
Packs are the law of the land here in Crescent Lake, so even though the Pepper name is known here, too, the people never paid us any mind. Jim wasn’t treated differently, and neither was I. The sense of belonging has always been a deep comfort.
I know Uncle Jim felt the same, especially with everything he’d been through. Everything that set his move here in motion.
I don’t want to disturb Nikki, but I have to get up and get some things done around the house, so I rise from the chair with the little black dog in my arms and make my way back downstairs.
After placing her gently on one of the dog beds in the living room, I head outside to my SUV to grab my things.
For the rest of the morning and into the evening, I clean the house, wash sheets and blankets in the old washer and dryer, take inventory of what I’ll need to shop for tomorrow at any stores open on Sunday, and play with the dogs and Odin.
Dini had been elusive until dinnertime, when she finally came out of whatever hiding spot she’d been camped out in to eat.
There are two freezers and a refrigerator in the garage just to store the homemade food Jim would cook up for the cats and dogs.
Shelves are labeled with names and serving sizes, oven-safe glass containers are stacked neatly, both frozen and refrigerated.
His recipes are in the kitchen, where he always kept them, and there’s enough raw meat in another freezer to whip up another month’s batch for everyone.
I assume Pie and Gator’s food is stored in the barn, and I have to go and investigate everything out there and get to know where things are. Hopefully, Lloyd’s friend will be able to teach me some things when he arrives, like what the heck I’m supposed to do to care for them.
Love, I have covered in spades. But I’ve never had to feed, exercise, or groom a horse or mini donkey. I hope this guy knows his stuff.
I order delivery through the Foo-D app, and after dinner, the dogs all go out into the fenced backyard to do their business and play. We’re out there for a while until exhaustion overtakes me.
The long drive, the emotional ups and downs from trips down memory lane—all of these things make my mind and body tired.
And there’s a long day ahead tomorrow.
I’d already cleaned up and changed the sheets in the guest room, where I’ve always slept, and that’s where I go upstairs to crash once I change.
The moment I lay down, there’s a miniature stampede of fuzzy bullets rushing up the stairs and then leaping onto the bed with me, each furry friend finding their spot on the mattress, on top of the covers, or under, making me realize fast that I’m going to have to start sleeping in Jim’s room with the bigger bed.
But surrounded by the warm dogs, I can’t help but smile to myself, that is, until Nikki woofs at me, nudging my hand with her snoot.
“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice comes out as exhausted as I feel.
She woofs again and nudges me, and then I hear it. A tiny meow, making my heart skip.
“Odin!”
I roll over with as much care as possible, trying not to dislodge any of my little friends, and peer at the floor beside the bed. That’s where the little guy sits, his blue fuzz-ball toy at his feet, head turning slightly from side to side.
“I’m sorry, little one,” I coo before reaching down to pick him and his comfort toy up and placing them on the pillow beside mine. Odin immediately curls up, his toy by his head.
Nikki settles then, like she’s pleased that I’ve understood her. She buries her snoot under the blankets before burrowing beneath them and curling up at my belly.
The comfort that overtakes me is something I haven’t felt in years. And, as I switch off the bedside lamp, I know this is just another sign that I’ve made the right choice in coming here.