He liked to eat out of the garbage, he left clumps of hair everywhere he went and he sometimes threw up on the carpet.

But he sure was a great dog.

Our Samoyed-Keeshond cross died in the summer of 1994, but not without becoming an integral part of our lives.

The best thing about Pepper was that he loved unconditionally, and he aimed to please. He didn’t particularly like to swim long distances, but if you threw a stick way out into the lake, he’d get it — whining all the way. If you put a piece of food on the floor and told him not to eat it, he’d stare at you until you gave him the OK.

Despite his estimated weight of 105 pounds (who could get him on a scale?), he was a beautiful animal, with long fur in shades of blonde, white and touches of black and brown. When you brushed him, you’d fill a grocery bag with fur.

There are people who take this fur and weave it into yarn. I always wanted to find one of those weavers — I would have loved to have had a sweater, maybe a scarf and mittens, made from my dog’s fur.

A lot of dog owners have envied the way we never had to tie up our dog. When we’d let him out to do his business, he’d almost always be waiting on the front steps when youdoor later, he would always be there — if he wasn’t sitting on the steps or under them, he’d be wandering around the yard.

Basically, Pepper wanted to be where we were — if we were inside and he was out, he’d hang around the door waiting for us to open it. If we were outside, he’d stand in the doorway waiting to join us.

The years have not been kind to Pepper, who has had hip dysplasia for several years. In the past year, it had gotten pretty bad. Sometimes, when he’d try to get up n the mornings, it would take him several minutes to struggle to his feet. He had to shift his hips back in place before he could get control of his hind legs. We’ve known for some time that he wasn’t going to live much longer.

On the morning of his death, we let him out while we were getting ready to go, and when we opened the door to let him in a little later, he was stuck. His feet had slipped halfway up the wet steps and his back legs had gone underneath him. I tried helping him go up, but that was impossible, so I ended up lifting him and putting him on the sidewalk so he could make the climb again.

A while ago, there was this dog food commercial that showed a big dog at several different stages in the same location, a dock on a lake. In the first clip, the dog sprinted onto the dog and leaped into the water to catch a thrown stick. The rest of the clips showed the dog slowing down, until in the final one, he trotted to the end of the dock and just stood there.

That’s Pepper in a nutshell. When he was young, he’d jump into a vehicle when we were leaving, whether we planned to bring him with or not; he’d go for runs with us and usually have to wait for us to catch up; he’d chase a stick for an hour or more; and he’d wrestle, growling, with you over his favorite toy, a piece of corduroy. In his old age, we had to lift him into the car, and when we walked, we had to wait for him to catch up; he’d chase the stick and hide it under the steps; and he had no interest in wrestling with anything — unless, of course, it involved food.

Pepper’s appetite was one thing that never declined with age. That dog would eat just about anything, and liked people food a lot more than dog food (which is probably why he grew so fat).

He didn’t care for olives, lettuce or broccoli, but he’d eat them if you made it look exciting. He could still catch a line-drive pinch of food in midair with a snap of his jaw, but if you held a potato chip between your teeth and offer it to him, he’d take it carefully.

In his 13 years, Pepper put up with a lot. When our 10-year-old daughter was a baby and almost ready to walk, she would pull herself up by grabbing fistfuls of fur and pulling until she was in a standing position. He always looked a little uncomfortable, but always stood there and took it.

Pepper loved to be petted, and you could freeze him by rubbing the hair on his chest. When strangers came to the house and patted him a couple of times on the head, he never left their sides.

We’ve had three pets that have been with us for an extended period of time. Our oldest cat, Neige, is a year older than Pepper, but the dog’s favorite playmate was our other cat, Toby, who we got at the same time as Neige and who died of a feline bladder disorder a few years ago.

Toby was the most relaxed cat I’ve ever seen. Pepper would lay right on top of him and basically treat him like a chew toy, and Toby would just lay there and take it. That cat constantly had sticky fur on his neck from dog saliva. He was a great cat — he’s buried under our shed now (we thought it would be wise since our kids and the neighbor kids at the time were into digging and since we were just about to put up the shed).

When Neige goes, it will be like the end of a little animal family. All of those three pets were with us before our kids were — I got the cats the year before we were married and we got the dog not long after our wedding. Our younger cat, doesn’t figure into the equation quite as strongly, since she’s only two years old.

Neige is a great cat, too. He’s not as agreeable as Toby was — he’ll scratch you and he’ll bite you hard if you cross him, but he’s more understanding with little kids than he is with adults. He hates to be petted at the base of his tail, so we do it occasionally just to see if we can get our hands out of the way when he takes a swipe at us.

This cat is fat like the dog, and spends a lot of time lying on the floor, sometimes in the absolute weirdest position I’ve ever seen a cat take — he tucks his head straight back under him like he’s looking at his stomach, and goes to sleep.

Like the dog, Neige has slowed down, too. We used to feed him french fries or pieces of hot dog on the floor, and watch in delight as he leaped straight into the air and attacked the food. Now, he just eats it. He still loves to be petted, and held if you follow the rules. The main rule is not to put your face next to his — he’ll back away and leave you. This is a throwback to the wild kitten we got from the Polk County Humane Society. Until he was several years old, no one ever saw him except us. He’d hide under the bed whenever someone came to the door.

We’re having our dog cremated and we’ll bury the ashes in a box in the backyard near the shed where his favorite cat lies under. If there’s a pet heaven, it would be nice to think that Pepper and Toby are back to their old tricks.