Thanksgiving Memories

 Everyone who has a dog has a Thanksgiving story to tell. Some are sweet, some are funny, some are horror stories and some are embarrassing. I have a couple in the last category.

I'll start with one from a few years ago that some of you might remember. We were having a few friends over for Thanksgiving dinner that day. Rob took the twenty something pound turkey out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool while I was buzzing around the kitchen preparing other edibles. The guests, fortunately, hadn't arrived yet. Several, maybe all the Porties were in the kitchen watching me and hoping something would hit the floor. I was at the sink peeling potatoes when Samba ran past me heading for the stairs. She was carrying the cooked turkey and her pups were right behind her.

I let out a yell, chased after her and retrieved the turkey. It seemed none the worse for the experience, just a little banged up. I didn't hesitate. I rinsed it off, Rob carved it up and we served it to our friends, who still have never heard this story. Sorry about that.

The other turkey tale dates back to the mid sixties. I had a dog, Zelda, who was from my first litter of pups. Her mom was a small shepherd and her dad was a Cocker Spaniel. She was a super dog and we had great times together.  We lived in a small village and Zelda was frequently let outside to explore. Most days she ran thru the fields behind our house to a farm creek where she loved to swim. Then she would come home and spend the day inside.

Zelda loved to bring me presents. Among her offerings were several squirrels, rabbits, a skunk and a face full of porcupine quills. A couple times she came home with lingerie.  She seemed to be attracted to clothes flapping in the breeze on clotheslines  in the neighborhood. She brought home a slip, a nightgown and a bra before we convinced her to stop. We had no way of knowing where she found her silky prizes and as a teenager I wasn't about to go door to door asking if anyone was missing their undies, so I disposed of them. Cowardly, I know.

Then one year it was the day before Thanksgiving and Zelda brought home her big score. First I must explain that in the sixties we were more relaxed about some things, for better or worse. The food police were almost non-existent. People set food in the windows or on the porches to cool or warm or whatever. In this case someone had set their frozen turkey on their porch to finish defrosting.

This particular day Zelda had gone out in the morning and a few hours later when I went to call her she was coming down the sidewalk dragging a half frozen turkey. She was so happy to offer her special prize to me and I was mortified. Where had she found it and who was going to soon be missing their turkey? What should I do? 

You guessed it, I disposed of the turkey. I couldn't go looking for the owner and offer them their somewhat dirty, scraped up bird and I was a kid and couldn't just go buy another. So the turkey theft stayed between Zelda and me till I married Rob and told him about it. Now you all know and if any of you were my neighbors in 1963 and your turkey went missing, I sincerely apologize.

So those are my most embarrassing Thanksgiving dog stories, Now it's your turn.