Deer oh deer

This is Pepper.
She's a 2 year old rescue.A real mutt.
A mix of shepherd from the looks of her,
a sniffer dog from the fact that she sticks her nose in everything
and a mule. She is the biggest scaredy-cat of a dog I've ever known and a real sweetie.
I'm the guy behind her.Her walker.Her poop scooper. Her food bowl filler.Her slave.
Taking her for walks is my time to think.And she is the catalyst to all the weird and wonderful ideas
I have. These are some of the ramblings she inspires in me. They wouldn't have happened without her.


Deer droppings. Are the as delicious as Pepper makes me think they are? We get a lot of deer out here in New Jersey.As a species they make a lot of faeces.Which drives Pepper wild.In the dark I can't see her chewing on them but I know that's what she's doing. It makes a night walk or wintry morning walk with her turn into a  lot of yanking and pulling.And this morning it gave me a remembrance of times lost that would make Marcel Proust proud.
When I was a boy growing up in Liverpool we city boys would occasionally be taken for day trips to the countryside of nearby North Wales to give us fresh air and a an idea of life with grass and trees.
It's hill country with sheep roaming wild and wooly.Like deer sheep shit a lot.Only it's smaller and darker.And the turds are much firmer.To me sheep shit looked a lot like wild berries.As if I knew.
So I remember on this one trip filling my pockets with handful after handful of the dark
fruits.Jacket bulging with my prizes I couldn't wait to show how resourceful I was to my teacher.
Like those candies that melt in your mouth not your hands,these melted in my pockets.
Blackberry jam anyone.