Tag Archive | Thanksgiving

May your turkey be juicy…your potatoes mashed…and your football team victorious

What comes to mind on Thanksgiving? This is one thing!


Happy Thanksgiving! As I pound the keyboard, the turkey lies thawing in the sink, Mrs. G is fussing over her last second grocery list, and the Geezer is formulating a precise plan to maximize the number of football games he can watch on Turkey Day. The year 2020 has been hard to find much for which to be thankful. Maybe the item we can agree on to be thankful for most, is this damned year is almost over.

Over is the key word. Despite all the political bull-crap, we’re close to having a vaccine to control and get us over the Covid-19 virus the Chinese donated to the world. Hopefully, the violence in many American cities is over. The stupid-season is past, and the filth burning and looting didn’t help their cause. Most importantly, the election is over! It’s over! It’s over. IT”S OVER!! No more lies from politicians. Well, at least, less lies. No polls that have no basis in reality. No more mind pollution from the saturation of  TV with garbage election adds. Please, will you worthless idiots in the media keep you mouths shut for a while and give us some peace. At least, let us have our holidays without your constant fermenting of unrest! The election farce is past!

Let’s look forward. Ahhhh. Next year. Let’s hope we can burn those cursed masks. Watch the NCAA basketball tournament…in person. Have dinner at our favorite restaurants. See The Masters with spectators. Visit our favorite state park. Enjoy a full football season. Swim at the beach. Visit the library. Go to the gym. Drink a margarita at our favorite watering hole. Watch a selective earthquake that swallows all past and present politicians and Washington bureaucrats. Well, somethings are too good to hope for. Happy Thanksgiving from Sandy and Brandi……..

Happy Turkey Day!!!













Do I hear sleigh bells? Or is it Gobble, Gobble?

I’m thinking the season is coming. No, I don’t have a red nose. I do like turkey!

Okay. I’m rushing it. In my defense, it’s hard not to. The Geezer and I have made several social calls in the last few weeks. As far back as November 3rd, we observed multitudes of colored lights appearing on porches, around windows, on bushes, even circling palms in some of our neighbors’ yards. The Thanksgiving turkey hasn’t met the Guillotine and people already are checking the northern sky for the fat man in the red suit.

With all the stores dressing for Christmas right after the 4th of July, it’s no wonder you humans allow your ‘not always strong’ minds to wander ahead. Aaahhhhh, try to remember all those store owners decorate their home Christmas trees with dollar signs. Get a grip. Remember that holiday that comes before Santa?

It’s THANKSGIVING! …… Not turkey day, diet abstinence day, football forever day, or “oh, no, not Uncle Pete!” day.

In your rush to get to that ultimate season of joy, you humans have a tendency to brush past Thanksgiving like the first Salvation Army kettle you spy outside Walmart’s exit. Thanksgiving is supposed to be a time of reflection and appreciation for the good fortune that has entered our lives. At least, that was the jest of Lincoln’s reason for creating it as a formal holiday. What has it become to some of us?

Turkey’s dread it! With such an attractive, pleasant, ugly, face. Its hard, easy, to understand its murder.

The compulsory day of gluttony – can heartburn be far behind?











You humans consider it a day to eat enough to increase your waist size so you can justify that new Christmas wardrobe. Green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, steaming baked biscuits, yams, wine, calorie-stuffed desserts, and…of course…turkey! Thanksgiving is a national day of mourning for the bird with the big chest. It’s been raised and hunted by men for that virtue (though some ladies can sympathize with that) since the pilgrims landed. When you think “Thanksgiving,” you have to think, “Fat!” with it.

To many, particularly men, it has become a day to participate in a marathon, a football watching marathon. The tube works overtime as you crush couches and consume untold unneeded calories. The potato chips, dip, little Smokies, and chocolate chip cookies are washed down with floods of Pepsi and Coors. Basketball has competed for a share of the audience. It won’t happen. Watching thin men in shorts works on the conscience more than watching fat men in pads. Humans don’t like to be reminded of their mistakes.

Fascinated by the tube, you human zombies eat snacks like a garbage disposal.

To those of us who reside with you humans, Thanksgiving is leftover appreciation day. Yes, it is a great day for pets. I’m less fussy than either the Geezer or Mrs. G. White meat, dark meat…frankly, I don’t give a damn. (I’ve always had a crush on old Clark Gable).

To the sound of music — “It was anticipation…”

Take your pick–“After the ball is over,” “Happy Days are here again!”












To all of you have a HAPPY THANKSGIVING! (And try to remember why we celebrate it!)





Woof-woof Woof-woof-woof – Translated … Happy Thanksgiving

The holidays are on the way – Happy Thanksgiving, all!

The Holidays are HERE. I hope that the following season is a happy one for each of you.

May your disappointments be few –

May your successes be many –

May your opportunities be plentiful –

May you enjoy good health –

May your football, basketball, and baseball teams win –

May the “calorie sucker” do a good job on all the goodies you’ll eat today –

May we all understand the blessings we have and be thankful –


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Happy Thanksgiving All!

Sandy wishes you all a happy turkey day!

Sandy wishes you all a happy turkey day!

I know. I know. I’ve been behind in my posts. Sorry, I’ll catch up in the next week or two.

So much for excuses, I have a thing or two to tell you. My human has had a short story (500 words) published in a literary magazine. The magazine is Ripen the Page. Check it out!  http://www.thepagereader.com/blog/  The story is titled, “There are no lights in Naples.” I promise it will grab you.

My humans have been busy going to book events – some I could go on and some not so much! Here are a couple pictures.

"DL when is your next book coming out?" - "It's being released this spring, Dan - it's a suspense/mystery called THE BAIT MAN.

“DL, when is your next book coming out?” – “It’s being released this spring, Dan – it’s a suspense/mystery called THE BAIT MAN.” Dan is one of DL’s biggest fans.


The Geezer, sorry that's DL, making a historical presentation to a full house at King's Gate Country Club.

The Geezer, sorry that’s DL, making a historical presentation to a full house at King’s Gate Country Club.

And once again – HAPPY THANKSGIVING !!


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Fall has fell! … The Geezer’s on the road again.

I hear Willie singing, "On the road again"

I hear Willie singing, “On the road again”


Fall is in the air! It’s only 92 degrees today and the humidity is 78%. Well, that’s better than its been. It means the holidays are coming and, best of all, the election will be over! It’s also traveling season for us as the Geezer starts his appearance schedule after his hip replacement.

Dogfucius has some bits of wisdom for the upcoming season.

Advice to does. A horny deer and a horny dear both must be approached with great caution unless one wishes to be horned. Approach a horny deer from downwind for best success when hunting. Approach a horny dear from upwind for nostril relief. (Hunting these is not necessary.)

Do not discuss going to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving with any of your turkey friends.

Buy stock in insane asylums. The election will be over soon and overcrowding will be a problem.

I suggest humans with white chimneys post the following sign on Christmas Eve: “Santa, this is not our outhouse.”

Men, do not argue with your spouse about who will be the back half of your Halloween costume if you’re going dressed as a horse. You are what you are.

Speaking of horse rumps – My human, the lovable old Geezer, will be signing books at the On Point Book Fair tomorrow. If you’re in the Tampa, Florida area, he’ll be at the Westshore Plaza 10AM until (ugh) 9PM. Look for the sign with DL Havlin printed on it and the Geezer wearing his black Stetson.


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This and that ……….

The Geezer at the Copperfish

The Geezer at the Copperfish

Thank You! Thank You!

A couple of you reminded the Geezer, when he spoke at the Copperfish last night, that I needed my turn at the computer. He’s promised to be more considerate and let me have my paws on the keyboard more frequently.

The Geezer had a most successful trek to the Copperfish. He met lots of folks, both fans and prospective new ones, I’m sure he wowed them with his bullshit, had a great gab session, and (oh, yes) sold and signed a bunch of books.

Another thank you is in order. That’s to the 20,000 plus visitors who have read my blog. Woof, woof. I reached the milestone a few days ago. It’s humbling to this dog and I’ll do my best to continue to make your visits here worth your time.

T’is the season, or at least, it’s close to it. The Geezer will be posting one (or more) of his Christmas Stories on his blog and I’ll be doing the same on this one. Look for them to start right after Thanksgiving.

Finally:    Woof-Arf   Grrr-Arf-Woof.     Translated into Humanese that’s ………………………. HAPPY THANKSGIVING.


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November 24, Thanks for the sole coming off a shoe???

     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 !!!



November 30 – A canine Thanksgiving lesson –

     (A note from the Geezer – sometimes fact is stranger than fiction and more gross.)

     Thanksgiving taught a friend of mine a lesson, one that I hope I’ll have the good sense to learn from.  I met Manny, the neighborhood chihuahua, on the Geezer’s and my morning stroll.   He looked glum, and past hello, he didn’t have a thing to say.  Now, that just isn’t Manny!
    When we wandered a few feet away from where the Geezer and Manny’s human were talking, I asked, “Hey, Manny, what’s happening?  You seem down.”
     “I am.  It’s my humans.  They are being so unfair.” 
     I know Annie, his primary human, and I can’t imagine her being unfair to anyone.  “Oh, how’s that?” I asked suspiciously.  Manny has been known to bend the truth.  Well, crumple and stomp on it is closer.
    “They have me on indefinite time out.  I’m exiled from the dining room.  It was all because of football, Thanksgiving, and chairs that weren’t pushed in.  They forgot their own words.  It’s all the humans fault, not mine.”
     That made me more curious.  “What exactly happened?”
     “It all happened so fast, but I’ll tell you the best I can.  I was in the kitchen watching Annie cook.  It smelled so good it had a hypnotic effect on me.  Yes, that’s it.  I hadn’t thought about that.  I was temporarily insane.  Anyway, everybody else was watching TV.  I followed her from kitchen to dining room as she moved one wonderful aroma producing dish after another to the big table that humans gather around.  Finally, she carried this huge plate with a gigantic brown lump on it and put it in the center of the table.  It smelled familiar.” 
     “Really?  Like what?” I asked.
     “Like my supper does sometime.  I have to tell you it made me drool.  Carumba!  It wasn’t fair.  I’ve heard Annie tell her own children not to do what happened next.”
     “Oh?” I prompted.
     “Si.”  Manny mixes in some Spanish when he gets excited or upset.  “Many times I’ve heard her say, don’t leave the chair pulled out if you don’t want Manny to get in trouble.  It will be your fault as much as his.  But it was Annie who looked at me as she pulled out a chair from under the table.  It was as though she was saying ‘come on big boy’.  Well, at that instant one of Annie’s guests stuck her head through the dining room entrance and said, ‘Come quick, the kickoff is in a few seconds’.  They left.”
     “When she pulled the chair out, you sure she wasn’t getting ready to sit down?” I asked. 
     “I never thought of that.”  Manny had a guilty look on his face.  “Anyway, it smelled so good and I thought leaving the chair there was an invitation for me to look.  And, maybe grab a little snack.  I gathered all my strength and jumped onto the chair, put my front paws on the table, and looked out over that fruited plain.”  Manny got tears in his eyes, “Oh, Sandy, it was like getting a chance to peek into heaven before dying.  All that good-looking and great-smelling stuff piled in humongous dog dishes.  And…and…and in the middle was that huge golden brown mound.  It had legs and wings and…and…and, now, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but I swear I could hear it saying, ‘Manny, eat me’…no dog could resist that.  None!  None!  None!”  Manny’s voice was getting shrill.
     “Calm down, Manny.  You don’t want to have a break down,” I said.
     “Gracias.”  He paused to compose himself.  With a big sigh he continued, “It was too much for me.  I knew I shouldn’t, but that mound kept calling.  Finally, I reasoned that no one would ever know, and if they did, I could blame Herman the cat.  He does those kind of things.  What would one little bite hurt?”
     “You got on the table, didn’t you.”
     “Oh, yes, but it was so hard.  The table, she was very crowded.  To get to the mound I had to wade through a bowl of stuff that looked like snow, but was warm with a lump of yellow in the middle.   And then through a swamp of green cut up plants with white juicy goo around them.  My paws sunk so deep my belly rubbed.  Finally, I made it to the huge pile.  The smell, if you only knew, que lastima!  I couldn’t resist.  I bit into one of the legs.  Turkey!  It was so good!  Then I tried some of the top.  I had to crawl up on the bird to get a bite, but I did.  Fantastic, absolutely fantastic.  It was so good I had to tell the world.  I barked, ‘this is super great shit!’  It only took seconds for the humans to rush into the room.  They were really mad!”
     “What did you expect?” I said.
     Manny looked sheepish and shrugged his shoulders.  “I was standing on top of the bird and Annie was carrying Herman so that excuse was gone.  I was scared.  They rushed the table.  But, it was what happened next that really made them furious.  ”
     “That was?”
     “I yelled, ‘the devil made me do it,’ around a mouthful of white meat.”
     I looked at Manny dubiously, “Come on, what else?”
     “Well, I have this weak bladder…”
     I’ll spare you the remaining details.  However, when he’d finished his tale I asked Manny, “Did you learn anything from all that?”
     “Three things.  First, never lie with your mouth full of white meat.  Second, never brag about something you’ve done, while still close enough to get caught.  Third, never take a human at their word.”
     Manny did learn some good principles, however, he missed what might be the most important…”Never drink too much before you eat.”



November 28 – As Time and Thanksgiving Goes By

       Last year was my first holiday season with Mr. & Mrs. Gator.  I was so busy experiencing the major events I missed the little things that help make days like Thanksgiving memorable.  I decided to keep a log chronicling what my humans do to make a holiday special so I could share it with you.
       4:23 AM – Ouch.  Mrs. Gator stepped out of bed and mashed my tail on her way to remove the turkey from the frige.  I whined and made a terrible fuss which woke up the Geezer.  It made Mrs. G feel guilty.  She got me a hot dog and even warmed it in the microwave.
       4:37 AM – As Mrs. G bent over to place the turkey in the oven, something scratched on the porch door.  She screamed and slammed the oven shut as I raced to investigate.  I growled and barked as menacingly as I’m capable.  When I looked out the glass, a fellow who wore a black mask, a brown fur coat, and sported a stripped black and brown tail, stared back at me.  He stood on his hind legs, but didn’t appear threatening.  The Geezer wobbled out to investigate.  Now that’s scary!!  He sleeps in the nude, is overweight, and is in his mid-60s.  His body would be a good prop to use in a remake of Halloween or Scream.  He quickly grasped the situation and a broom.  Old Geezer burst onto the porch with heroic intent.  His loud shout, while brandishing the straw stick, sent the raccoon scurrying from the porch…and illuminated the neighbor’s lights.  The Geezer retreated.
       4:45 AM – More screams, this time from the bathroom.  The Geezer walked in on our house guest, a lady friend of Mrs. G’s.  My analysis of the Geezer’s body”s horrifying nature must be right on, judging from the blood curdling nature of her utterance.  All wandered back to their rooms after apologies.
       6:44 AM – The Geezer rolled out of bed for his morning ritual.  That’s making a cup of coffee for Mrs. G, putting a scoop of Cool Whip in it, and serving it to his wife while she’s still in the sack.  Since he was awake and mobile, I went to the door and called out, “Geezer, I’ve got a case of bladder burst.”  He sauntered over, barefoot, dressed in his underwear, and asked, “Is it urgent?”  I nodded.  Geezer snapped on my leash, opened the door, and stepped onto the porch, while I pulled toward the stairs, grass, and relief.  When he got half-way down the steps, the stream of curse words floating from his lips made it plain…he wasn’t giving thanks for coon poop today. 
       7:20 AM – No bacon and eggs this morning!  Mrs. G never even made it to the stove.  Damn!  Cereal doesn’t do anything for my taste-buds.  The Geezer asked Mrs. G at what time dinner was scheduled.  Good News!  I found I wouldn’t have a long wait; the scraps should be finding their way off the table by 12:30.
        7:51 AM – The Geezer remarked how good the new oven’s seal was.  Mrs. G’s house-guest went to look at the new stove and said, “Oh shit!”  She asked Mrs G to come over.  Mrs G said, “Oh shit!  Geezer, I forgot to turn on the oven.”  The Geezer said, “Oh shit, that means we’ll be eating during the football games.  How long will it delay the meal?”  Mrs. G said, “Two Hours.”  I said, “Oh shit!”  Two hours longer to wait before the goodies start to fall.
       11:18 AM – Guests began to arrive.  A lady named Madeline stepped in the remaining coon poop.  Mrs. G made an emergency mop stop.
       11:22 AM – Madeline placed her “green bean casserole” on the kitchen bar.
       11:25 AM – Our 2nd guest, Susan, arrived and placed her “green bean casserole” on the kitchen bar.  Mrs. G looked concerned.
       11:30 AM – Patti, the 3rd lady guest arrived with…her “green bean casserole.”  Mrs. G is alarmed and hit the panic button.  “Geezer did you send out the right side-dish emails to all our guests?”  The Geezer answered, “Sure I did!”
       11:31 AM – Babs arrived with…her “green bean casserole.”  The Geezer checked his computer as suggested by Mrs. Gator.  His face turned very red.
       11:35 AM – The Geezer left for an emergency trip to the grocery.  Mrs G announced dinner will be delayed another hour.  Hunger pangs forced me to improvise.  Dirty socks just aren’t a substitute for turkey.
       12:42 PM – The Geezer returned carrying the feast prepared by the supermarket deli.  His arms were fully loaded with packages and when I gave him a welcoming nudge a pumpkin pie dislodged, did a triple somersault with a half twist, and landed on Susan’s white, dress-covered, lap.  The words offered weren’t in keeping with the day’s theme- being thankful.
       2:10 PM – Mrs. G announced the meal was ready.  The guests lined up at the serving table and piled on the chow, including samples from each of the 6 green bean casseroles.  
       2:12 PM – I never realized that I lived in a sexually bigoted family until today.  The women ate at the segregated dinner table and forced the men to eat in front of the TV.  I never guessed Mrs. G was capable of that. 
       2:42 PM – It was worth the wait.  Tidbits rained down on me like insults aimed at the opposition during a political rally.  Then, Mrs. Gator provided me with a large plate filled with assorted leftovers.  And to think, I never believed in heaven.  The humans watching me devour the goodies bet that I would explode, but of course I didn’t.  After the feast, I found a spot under the dining room table, curled up, and went to sleep.
       4:52 PM – I woke up during a battlefield nightmare so authentic, the corpses looked and smelled real.  When I opened my eyes the visions departed, but the smell lingered on.  It took a few moments to realize that the mass sampling of green bean casseroles had a side effect.  I went back to sleep to avoid nostril distress.
       6:55 PM – I finally became alert again.  During my nap all the guests had left except one couple, Patti and John.  They were very restless, both taking turns rushing to the toilet.  They called for Susan’s husband, but it was obvious he’d left.  Still they gurgled through the restroom door, “Ralph, Ralph, Ralph.”  Log note:  Ask Geezer why it’s not wise to mix red wine and vodka.  During their absence the Geezer and Mrs. G. had a whispered conversation about not inviting the head of the local Republican Party to the same event that the president of Professors for Obama attends.  I suddenly understood what had influenced my earlier sleep and its warfare nightmare. 
       8:00 PM – Mrs G. completed cleaning the kitchen, dining room, and living room.  The Geezer was so tired from watching her work he slumped into his recliner and snored, his noises being akin to those I’ve heard come from a pig sty.  He evidently was so tired Mrs. Gator had to take me for my goodnight walk. 
       After reviewing my log, I can see why humans treasure the holidays so much!  It provides so many unique ways to screw up.  I’m anxious to see what interesting things they’ll do to celebrate Christmas.  Anyway, that’s the way Time and Thanksgiving went by at our house.




November 23 – Thanksgiving from a turkey’s POV

       The Geezer always says, “You never know why another man’s point of view is different from yours until you walk in his shoes for a week or two.”  That goes for paws and claws as well, as I learned this morning.
       First, let me explain–I’m in the figurative “dog house” right now.  My sense of adventure, my keen nose, and a gourmet pallet betray me occasionally.  Mrs. G. had this scrumptious smelling item protruding from her purse.  She’d left her handbag lying next to her bed, right where I sleep each night.  ‘Bout midnight I woke up, suffered a little insomnia, and became very bored.  I sniffed the item and it smelled like it might be delicious.  It was an envelope about 3″ by 6″ and had some bank’s name printed on it.  Let me shorten the explanation by saying it was filled with delicious tidbits.  I preferred the ones with 20 printed on them and engraved with a picture of some guy named Jackson.  The Lincolns were okay, but the 1’s were kind of plebeian.  I ate them all even though some weren’t particularly tasty; I detest wasting food.   
       As I was finishing, my lip smacking woke my humans.  They quickly explained what I had eaten wasn’t the equivalent of a Purina Dog-Bone and left no doubt my behavior was unacceptable.  Their unreasonable attitude was carried over until this morning.  I was exiled to the back yard, tethered to my anchor ring, a punishment post used when I pulled some puppy pranks in my youth.  The Geezer calls it “time out.”
       I’ve learned the best way to slip out of my predicaments is to beg the court for mercy.  I dawn my best “I’m guilty, but contrite look,” and exude remorse from my pupils.  Those sad-sack eyes normally melt the old boy, but he was resolute this AM, leaving me to “suffer” alone.  Big deal.  I quickly found an interesting patch of vile smelling grass, rolled onto my back, and wriggled around, thoroughly enjoying myself.
       As I tossed my head and waved my paws in the air, a voice said, “Pssst, hey you.”
       I rolled over springing up on all four and was hyper alert.  I looked around the yard, but couldn’t see who spoke.
       “Over here, I’m behind the Bougainvillea bushes.”  Looking at the greenery from a distance didn’t help; I couldn’t see the voice’s owner.  I trotted to the thorny vines and stared into them.  Glaring back at me from the other side were beady eyes, housed in a bird’s head.  My visitor was huge for a fowl, colored black-brown, with long spindly legs and a red beard.  I watched him suspiciously.
       “I hate to deal in stereotypes, but are you a dumb dog or did the cat get your tongue?”
       “Neither,” I growled.  The birds eyes showed alarm.
       “Whoa, stay cool man.  I’m just a jive turkey looking for a little a-ssist, dig?”  The bird took a step back.
       “Insulting a stranger you’re asking for help isn’t very smart, buddy.”  I decided I didn’t like my visitor.
       “Hey, my species isn’t known for high cranial capacity, aaa, what did you say your name was?”
       “Cool!  I’m Tom.  You don’t happen to be a vegetarian, do you?” 
       I thought about the reason I was tied in the yard.  “Not strictly, omnivorous I think you call it.”
       “So you eat meat?” He answered his own question, “Yep, I thought so.  The poodle down the street said she didn’t, but she lied.  Good thing she didn’t have wings.”
       I visualized my neighbor across the hedge, sans feathers, headless, with the less succulent portion of his legs removed, sitting on a large platter with his golden skin giving off sumptuous odors.  My tongue protruded and the saliva began to drip.
       The turkey moved back when he saw the change. “Now, Sandy, calm down.  I don’t like that look in your eye.”
       “Sorry about that.”  I tried to sound sincere all the time wondering if I could dislodge the anchor from the ground or break my leash if I pulled hard enough. 
       “Good man, you just stay cool.  I just want to ask a few questions, dig?”
       “I’m NOT a man,” I said coldly, “but I understand and I’ll answer you if I know what your talking about.”
       “Yo, Sandy!  Sorry dude-ette, but you folks all look the same to me.  No offense?”  Tom was trying, but like he said the rocks in the driveway had a higher IQ.
       “None taken, Tom.”  I lied, still focusing on how to get lose and get a paw and chaw on my visitor.
       “Let me explain, Sandy.  Put yourself in my position.  I want to know if this is a safe place to hide from them.  Between now and the end of the holidays my kind lives in constant fear.  We don’t know who to trust.  It seems everybody is after us.  They all want a part.  During this month and a half, danger lurks everywhere.  It doesn’t matter what color we are, the whole world is hungry to get fed by us.  My white cousins tell me it’s just as bad or worse for them.  They’re relentless.  They have all types of devices to catch us and suck the life blood from our bodies this time of year.  It’s six weeks of Hell, Sandy, Hell!!!  You dig?”
      I nodded as I pulled against the leash.
      “just name someone, anyone, who has to endure this kind of annual intimidation, demoralization, and degrading treatment when all they want is to be left alone?  If you can, I’ll commit Harri-Kari!”  The turkey squinted his eyes and made them appear slanted.
      I thought for several seconds, remembering some wisdom the old Geezer Gator has shared with me.  “The US Taxpayer each March and April.” 
      I felt sorry for the turkey as he gasped his last.  Well, just a little.


Note:  If you enjoyed this tale from the dog-side, I have a short Christmas story that will appear on my blog for those that love to laugh. in early December