Pepper and Jake

Pepper was absorbed in his typical daily activity:  lying in the shallow hole he had dug for himself by the back concrete steps. His pepper-black coat was slightly muddy, and his eyes were a little rheumy with age.  Our Cocker Spaniel had spent many a year patrolling the back yard fence, chasing mockingbirds, and barking at the kids riding by on their bicycles, but nowadays, he was usually content to watch the world go by through the chain links. He had even started to ignore his arch-nemeses, the squirrels who chattered above him from the gnarly mesquite limb. Pepper’s ten-year-old bones were a little creakier and his tummy a little rounder than it used to be, but he still greeted his family morning and evening with an enthusiastically wagging tail. Every once in a while, he could be enticed to play catch with his ratty old ball, but for Pepper, life in the fast lane had slowed to a school-zone pace.  That was before Jake bounded onto the scene.

Jake was a four-month-old mix of Border Collie and mystery man, with a shaggy black and white coat and an inexhaustible supply of energy. His membership in the family came suddenly via a neighbor’s gift.  When he ran into the yard as if chased by coyotes, Pepper immediately got up to investigate. Their first meeting was memorable only for the barking, the sniffing, the barking, the growling, and… the barking. Jake was here to stay, and Pepper was not happy.  Soon a temporary cease-fire was worked out, and Jake and Pepper agreed to tolerate each other… and bark.

A couple of weeks into the new relationship, things began to change. Jake was running around the yard in circles as he usually did, and there was Pepper, running right beside him.  Jake was digging an extension to the English Channel under the boxwood hedge, and there was Pepper, adding his excavation expertise.  Jake discovered a bedraggled softball and tossed it in the air.  Pepper leapt up to catch it. Pepper shined up his sheriff’s badge and began to patrol the fence once again, Deputy Jake trailing along behind.  The two of them wallowed out that muddy hole a little wider, and the cease-fire became a peace treaty.  Pepper absorbed some of Jake’s boundless energy; Jake learned about loyalty and how to keep his family safe.  Pepper put play back on his “to do” list while Jake kept tabs on the squirrels.  They didn’t always see eye to eye, especially if a bone were involved, but if dogs can be friends, then Jake and Pepper were.  The new spring in Pepper’s step remained for many years. Jake’s tendency to barrel through life was tempered by his desire to stay glued to Pepper’s side while they ate, and slept, and patrolled…and barked.

With laser-like focus, I often charge ahead towards a goal with a Jake-like intensity, in much too much of a hurry to match my steps to someone’s dissimilar style or pace. Thankfully, there are more times when the person walking faithfully along beside me is vastly more important to me than any destination.  Surviving becomes thriving when we share more than a similar location or an age group.  The recent pandemic and the isolation that resulted showed us what is lost when those vital connections diminish.  Our faith, empathy and compassion grow in the presence of others, even or perhaps especially, when we don’t see eye-to-eye.

Pepper and Jake can teach us a few things about the value of working together (The English Channel was not built alone), the joy of play (Playing baseball with yourself just doesn’t cut it) and the importance of making space for someone new, no matter our ages or circumstances (There was plenty of room in that yard, after all.) Most of all, they can teach us about companionship. When I think of Pepper and Jake, I think of the relationships in my life, and I am astounded by the things we learn from each other, the mutual energy that we share, and our playful times together. Any disagreements that we have challenge me to dig deeply into compassion, to stretch my views, or to foster peace.  I admit that I am rather an “old dog” these days, but like Pepper, I’m still learning and when someone new show ups, I will always make space. Just don’t expect me to bark, though.  Even friends have to draw the line somewhere.

If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together— Ancient African Proverb

Today’s tile contains snippets of pictures and other materials I put together to represent a journey.  When I see it, I think of the companions who still travel alongside me and those I’ve lost along the way. There is a shadowy image of two people, and part of a ship’s mast. A cloudy globe with a bright red beacon fills one corner; four cog-like wheels fill the other. This collage is intended for interpretation and designed for discussion.

If you and a companion were to look at this tile together, how would your impressions differ? Consider the companions who accompany you now or did so in the past.  Were/are you travelling fast?  Were/are you travelling far?