Thanksgiving is always a big food oriented holiday (though as I’ve grown older, I’ve begun to view the holiday with more and more derision but that’s another blog post) and who gets the benefit the most from it? No, not my brother and I, poor starving college students who are suffering from having to feed themselves for the first time. No, not my dad, who enjoys cooking for some reason. No, the real person who comes out on top during Thanksgiving isn’t, in fact, as a person at all – as you may have guessed from the title, the real winner is my dog, Riley.
For a rescue dog, she sure isn’t shy about manipulating you to get what she wants. First, she’ll headbutt you, to make sure you know she’s there. Then, she’ll sniff the air, to make sure you know what she’s after. Then, she’ll place her face on your leg, which somehow fits perfectly, and stare up at you with those sad dog eyes. “Why haven’t you fed me yet?” those eyes ask, even though she broke into the food bag (true fact) half an hour before you gave her her actual dinner, and she ate all of her actual dinner as well. “I’m just so hungry,” she thinks at you. If you don’t react right away, then she’ll take her head down, headbutt you once more, and then place her head on your leg. And on God, you try to resist, but that’s the thing about a good conperson – as soon as they walk up, you’ve been hooked.
A piece of turkey given, lightly taken out of fingers (Riley takes treats really, really, gently, because she’s an angel of a dog). One piece of meat silently dropped onto the floor. Another piece of turkey falling from the plate as the meal’s being cleaned up with an obligatory “oops.” In the end, Riley’s eaten more turkey than my brother, who isn’t that big of a fan of the bird, and her tail is wagging faster than any of us can move.
Happy Thanksgiving.
