Ahhh. There’s nothing like the smell of Beneful in the morning. Or Purina. Or the occasional hot dog, fresh from the microwave. The Geezer always warms them up for me. It’s not really needed, but if that strokes his human sensibilities, who am I to deny him. Beneful. Oh well, you have to give thanks for what you have.
It’s Thanksgiving morning; the Geezer, Mrs. G, and Oreo are moving much slower than usual. I’d say its the holiday, but that usually makes them busier. Not this year. They’re going out to visit friends and relatives. The canine translation – no turkey left-overs, no assorted snacks snuck to me off the table, no potato chips dropped while watching football. I’ll spend a quiet day at home, catch up on my sleep, and play “chase the cat” and “chase the dog” with Oreo while my humans are out visiting.
Thanks Giving. What a concept. I think we all should do that every day, after all, each day we get up is better than the alternative, right? However, everybody gets too busy to remember to take the time. The Geezer told me that’s why some humans called Pilgrims started the festival, though Abe Lincoln was the first to make it a national holiday. I guess hard times like wars and bad economies make us miss what we don’t have and make us appreciate what we do.
I wondered what my little family would take the time to be thankful for, so I decided to ask.
“Oreo, what are you thankful for today?” I asked my cat half-brother.
“That’s a no-brainer, Sandy. I’m thankful that humans remain dumb. Think about it, all we have to do is look cute and be friendly and…viola!…they feed, house, and pamper us. I haven’t even chased a mouse since I came here. I’m a freeloader. I haven’t the slightest thought of working. I do nothing. Nothing. Sandy girl, I hope humans never wise up.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Oreo about the “Occupy” movement and ruin his holiday.
Mrs. G came by, whistling as she walked. I asked, “What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving morning?”
She thought for a few seconds, smiled, and said, “The sole has come off the Geezer’s old Top Siders.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That means he’ll finally allow me to throw them out. That means I won’t have to turn the exhaust fan on when he leaves them in the bathroom, or spray them with air-freshner continually, or give excuses to neighbors when he leaves them on the porch like “There must be a dead animal in the area.” I won’t have to hold a scarf doused with perfume over my nose when I put them in his closet.”
“Surely you’re jesting, Mrs. G. They don’t bother me,” I said.
“Yes, Sandy, but you like the smell of road-kill. Think, have you ever seen a roach or even an ant in the Geezer’s closet?”
I had to agree with that.
The Geezer was sitting in his recliner when I sashayed in to see him and asked, “What are you giving thanks for today?”
“Why I can think of three things quickly. People like my new book. I have the perfect wife, dog, and cat. And…and…and…and…” He looked embarrassed. “I kind of forgot the third thing.” He looked perplexed until an ancient lamp-lighter lit a kerosene lantern in his cranium. A look of enlightenment on his face, he said, “I remember. I’m getting new shoes.” After a few seconds pause, he asked, “What about your Thanksgiving thank you?”
“Living here with you and Mrs. G is all a grateful canine could ask for.” Do I know how to play the game or what? The Geezer sprung out of his recliner like a seventeen year-old, not a seventies senior. It was triple treat time.
Actually, I’m thankful for a lot besides my family, though they are my greatest blessing. I’m thankful for the neighborhood canines in the Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society, the cooler weather we’re having, and most especially – all of you who come to visit me. Oh, and that the Geezer can’t find the fake antlers and bells he likes to put on me when we walk this time of year. They got buried under one of the thorn bushes outside…ho, ho, ho. Wonder how that happened?
Happy Thanksgiving, all !!!