I was peacefully eating a piece of cake from an abandoned plate at a gathering, when mom called my name.
I like my name. I like when mom and children say it to give me something good, like bacon and hugs, but this time my mom’s voice was different.
“Did she see what I was doing?” I finished what I was doing, carefully cleaned my mouth and got off behind that counter in the light.
“Pepper!” She saw me and I went to meet her wagging my tail.
Then I saw my grandparents. They were there with mom and their neighbors, Kodiak’s parents. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I jumped on grandpa’s new shirt a few times, then on grandma, sniffing her purse with mints, but didn’t get too familiar with the neighbors. Kodiak wasn’t there.
“This dog is full of sugar,” grandma observed.
Suddenly I became obedient and sat next to mom without moving.
“It’s good she didn’t get into the coffee pot, though. Sugar and caffeine, can you imagine?” grandpa stated.
“Like a bomb,” mom said and everybody laughed.
You can see it here: