My FAVORITE Thanksgiving dog story
We miss you, Pancho!
I will give you my FAVORITE Thanksgiving memory. It was 1978, and Billy, Cris and I lived in a tiny 400 square foot duplex...that included a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms and a bathroom. We also had our first dog, a black lab, named Pancho.
We decided to host Thanksgiving that year. So, we invited my parents, Billy's parents, and his dad's parents. Cris was given the task of keeping his grand and great grand parents out of the kitchen...as there was BARELY enough room for Billy and I. All was going well. Billy took the beautiful, fat, brown turkey out of the oven. Turned around and put it on the little table that was in the kitchen. Turned back around to close the oven. I was washing dishes, as we only had so many and each dish that was finished being used for fixing the dinner was getting washed to be used in serving the dinner. I turned around to put dried dishes on the table and I said, "BILLY! Where is the turkey??" Thankfully it didn't come out as loud as I thought it did...he turned around and stared at the table...for there was NO turkey on it. I looked at the floor and a trail of turkey drippings led right to the DOGGY DOOR! OMG. We had a house full of people and had spent every last dime on getting them the traditional Thanksgiving dinner...so we couldn't take them out for a dinner. Everyone would starve! Billy, quicker thinking than I was, rushed out the back door without saying a word. He came back with a not so beautiful yet still fat, brown (brown with DIRT) turkey missing a large piece of breast. Thankfully Pancho couldn't swallow it whole without burning his mouth in the process...still, he TRIED to follow his "kill" into the house to which Billy and I both gave him the "stink eye" and locked the back door, as well as the doggy door. He was banned from grace!
Billy washed that ol' Tom up, until there wasn't a speck of the dirt on him...then cut around the "wound" and then carved the entire bird up onto the platter. In the meantime, I was setting up the table in the living room (we had borrowed one from his work -- the conference type tables) and then placing the food and dishes on it. Finally, Billy appeared with the most BEAUTIFUL presentation of a turkey platter. We had pulled it off! No one would know for MANY years that Pancho had gotten the first "gulp".
My dad DID tell Billy that it was a tradition to carve the turkey AT the table...to which Billy just played dumb, as this was our first time hosting the Thanksgiving feast.
For some reason, Pancho would never eat turkey again. Was it the burnt lips, or the fact that he was locked out of the kitchen?
Editor's note: LOL - what a great dog story, Viki - thank you - and hope the turkey made it to the table intact this year!