Hot Peppers & A Mutt

I was staying in Coconut Grove, Miami with an ex-girlfriend Patti. Although we were no longer ‘going together’, we had an easy and comfortable relationship and always managed to have a good laugh.

An incident that occurred when my buddy Willie came down for a visit however, provided splendid amusement for both of them. Unfortunately, their hilarity came at my expense.

Patti - ten years earlier

I was cooking breakfast one morning with Patti as my sous-chef, whilst Willie perched on his butt in the living room doing absolutely nothing.

A couple of months prior to this, in Canada, Willie had played some kind of prank on me—I’ve forgotten exactly what it was, but it had to do with a beer I was drinking. Now, I decided, it was payback time.

I extracted the seeds from some jalapeno peppers—the hottest part of them—and crushed them with a fork and my fingers. They were to be a surprise additional ingredient to Willie’s scrambled eggs.

“Two minutes your lordship,” I called gleefully toward the living room when the eggs were almost done.

Ahhh, the anticipation of sweet revenge!

So preoccupied was I with my vision of a red-faced, goggle-eyed Willie with steam hissing from his ears that when the urge for a quick pre-prandial pee hit me, my pepper-smeared fingers failed to register as a threat.

The peppers made their presence felt when Private Part was summoned to action. It was as if he’d been hauled out from barracks by hot tongs. With tears of agony streaming down my cheeks, I somehow managed to finish what I was doing then darted back to the kitchen.

Willie & Me - ten years later

“Quick,” I said to Patti. “Get me some ice cubes.”

“What on earth…?” she began to ask—but my anguished appearance and desperate tone of  voice conveyed the urgency of the situation and she let it go. As she went for the ice, I grabbed a glass jar off the counter and filled it with water.

“The peppers,” I gasped out as I submerged the soldier in soothing water. Patti added the ice cubes. Upon grasping the significance of my predicament, the corners of her mouth gave a cheeky upward twitch, which I didn’t appreciate.

“What’s taking so long?” calls his Lordship from the living room. Patti couldn’t answer—her jaws were clamped shut in order to contain her mirth.

“Won’t be a minute,” I squeezed out through clenched teeth.

Of course Willie picked up on my distress and came sauntering out to the kitchen. His jaw dropped open at the spectacle of me dancing around with my equipment in a jar of steaming water (well, maybe it wasn’t quite steaming, but it felt like it should have been).

He seemed puzzled at first—and I was not about to enlighten him—but when he spied the gutted peppers on the counter he quickly determined their significance. His eyes lit up gleefully as he began to convulse with laughter. And of course this got Patti going.

My misfortune was the cause of much merriment

So while I’m dancing around in agony, the two of them are hooting and cackling like a pair of hyenas.

Now comes the dog.

Those of you who are thinking, hmmm, this sounds interesting will be disappointed. The dog story has nothing to do with the peppers. The two are related solely by time-frame.

The dog came a couple of days after the peppers when I’d partially recovered from my ordeal. I say partially because there were actual blisters involved.

Anyway, the three of us were sitting out front when this thin, mangy-looking canine trotted in off the street, tail thrashing happily in (what I determined later) a desperate attempt to show goodwill. The thing had no tags on it and seemed to be in dire need of nourishment.

Patti gave it water and a bite of something then we scooted inside so it wouldn’t think it had found a home. The message proved to be overly subtle for this mutt though. Next morning, when I went out onto the porch the beast greeted me as if we’d been pals for years.

I was in no position to take in a dog—I planned to head down south somewhere in a month or so—and Patti didn’t want the responsibility. More drastic measures were called for.

I bundled Fido into the car and drove about ten miles to a nice neighborhood in Coral Gables where I dropped him off—figuring someone there was bound to want a pet. For a few blocks the wretched thing chased me, but I’d learned a few tricks from my bank-robbing days (joking) so was able to give it the slip.

Several hours later, as the three of us sat out on the porch sipping Bloody Mary’s—what should appear but our exhausted friend. How he’d found his way back from ten miles away I’ve no idea. And why he’d singled us out as potential parents was equally obscure.

Needless to say though, after that sterling effort, he found a home with Patti.

Edited by Davina