Woof! If you think for one minute that you’re going to read some sappy story about two cute little boys who grew up in the Fifties and created some snazzy food, you can stop reading right now. My name is Spud and I just might be the real brains behind Sparky and Spike’s Tangy Pepper Relish. I suppose if it were up to those two fat-faced brats they’d be telling you some tear-jerking story about picking peppers and creating a recipe in their kitchen and how it met with instant success. Well, you’re not going to get that kind of drivel from me. I may be just a dog, but I know the real story from the very beginning. I need to set the record straight right now. You’re no doubt wondering how a dog could have watched two brats grow up and mature into entrepreneurs in their mid to late 50’s. Here’s the scoop. I was born in late 1946 to a pit bull named Speedy and Jack Russell Terrier named Spice. I was the runt of a litter of ten- five females named Spunky, Spirit, Splash, Sparkle and Spiffy along with my brothers Spot, Spider, Spigot (his bladder was prodigious) and Spam. There wasn’t a spaniel gene in any of us. Red and Jerry Shaffer, who were expecting their first child in June of 1947, came to the pound and selected me- I was the only one left. On their first trip to the vet’s office he gave them the unexpected news that he had never seen such an underdeveloped puppy, despite me being the runt. Time passed and I was developing at a snail’s pace. After a few months of this underdevelopment Red and Jerry took me to a canine geneticist who made a startling discovery. Somehow, despite the fact that I was a dog, I had inherited a chromosome in my DNA that meant that instead of living in those mythical “dog years”, I would spend my life living regular human years…and I would be able to write. There. That should answer any doubts you have about a dog writing a story! Oh, by the way, I’m a heck of a cook too. More on that later. In mid 1947 Red and Jerry visited the cabbage patch and there was Cliff- a fat-faced, oversized, big-eared boy. Just a little over two years later they visited the patch again and there was Scott, a bit better looking but with the same face, size and ears. The boys ate and grew and ate and grew and ate and grew. Sometime in early 1951 Red decided that his two boys needed nicknames, as was the tradition during that point in history. He settled on “Spike” for Cliff and “Sparky” for Scott. Since neither boy was smart enough to ask their father how he arrived at these two monikers, and Red is now working in God’s carpentry shop, they think it’s a mystery. Spike thinks that maybe Dad thought he would become a great volleyball player or that he would become that rascal that was prone to pouring liquor into punchbowls at parties. Little does he know that Red confided in me that he thought Cliff was “dumb as a railroad spike”. Scott was also optimistic about the origin of his nickname. He always believed that “Sparky” meant that he was “ambitious” or that he might become a great leader and provide the spark to influence others. Not so. Red just always thought that with Scott’s tendency to play with matches at an early age, he just might develop into a pyromaniac. The next forty or so years were pretty ordinary. Both boys were high school athletes, graduated and moved on. Spike got a teaching degree and spent quite a few years trying to convince eighth-graders that reading and writing were quite important. Sparky spent most of his working life in the car business helping the confused understand the difference between a fender for a ’75 Mustang from a radiator hose for a “98 Explorer. In their spare time they spent their winters trying to convince each other that they could out-ski one another. To be honest, Red was right in not nicknaming either of them Jean-Claude or Franz. Early in 2004, I stepped in and bailed them out. I’d been working on a recipe in my doghouse house kitchen for years. It’s a relish/salsa made of nothing but four kinds of peppers, mustard and a few secret ingredients. The stuff in really good and all of my friends loved it. I tried to take it to the market. No one in the food industry would take me seriously, I guess ‘cause I’m a dog, so I slipped it onto Sparky’s desk to see what would happen next. Much to my surprise, he shared it with Spike and these two boneheads actually made it better. Then, in early 2005, their buddy Scott Ricketts who owns Mid’s Spaghetti Sauce, gave them their real break. He introduced them to a bunch of people a lot smarter that they are and they found a way to get it put into jars and out into the market. You probably know the rest of it. The stuff is selling like crazy. And guess what? Who’s getting all of the credit? Sparky and Spike. Doe’s Spud get any credit? No way! They think I should be happy with having my picture in the lower corner of the label. If I had my way about it, these two wouldn’t even be on the label. The relish would be called “Spud’s” and I’d be making all the money. However, I guess I’m just a dog…a runt at that. I suppose I should be happy just to have lived to see these little boys grow up and be successful. Won’t you please buy some Sparky and Spikes Tangy Pepper Relish? Maybe those two will throw me a bone once in a while. SPUD