For the first time in many many years, I hosted a traditional Thanksgiving Dinner, inviting all and sundry on my mail list who had nowhere else to go. Nine people total. We had a wonderful time. And all I had to supply was the turkey, which, astonishingly enough, I roasted to perfection, its moist meat falling off the bones.
I decided to do this in lieu of my usual Thanksgiving ritual, which, for years, ever since my son moved to Bloomington (when? 12 years ago?) was for the two of us to go out to dinner. Colin however, since August 16, has been slowly recovering from an aortic dissection that should have killed him and instead left him paraplegic and wracked, at this point, with nerve pain. (See his site on caringbridge.org where I post daily updates).
I decided to host a traditional Thanksgiving meal (and set up a long table dressed in white, with red poinsetta and cloth napkins) because I felt impelled to do so, as one hyper-local way of helping to center, ground, and balance this sorry world that is fast devolving into chaos.
And as I said, all went well, including spirited conversations among us and all the traditional sides, including a fabulous pumpkin pie made by a 13-year-old young man who “loves to bake!”
All went well until, that is, later in the evening, when I decided to set the covered roasting pan with the remains of the turkey carcass bones on the back porch overnight, where it would remain cold enough to be used today, for turkey bone broth. (Why didn’t I set it out on the screened-in front porch table, where I usually set things to stay cold overnight. Why? WHY?)
That was the plan.
Sometime after I set the roaster out there I let puppy Shadow out to pee, as I always do before we go to bed. An hour later, I realized he still wasn’t back. Where was he? Before I could get really concerned he barked at his usual place, outside on that same back porch, to come in.
And when he came in he had a turkey thigh leg bone in his mouth, looking mighty proud of himself. Immediately, I yelled, “NO, you can’t have that!” and despite knowing he might automatically bite, I fiercely yanked it from his mouth.
Hmmm . . . why did not bite, or at least growl? (Now I know. He was probably already full . . .) This question flitted through me briefly, but was pushed aside by judgmental self castigation: who in their right mind would leave turkey bones out for a dog to get? Everybody knows chicken and turkey bones are NOT to be given to dogs to chew on, in case they crack open, and the dog swallows them.
Note: I did not, not for even one second, see the covered roaster outside as having been invaded by Shadow . . .
Okay, skip to this morning, just prior to my walk with puppy Shadow, when I suddenly asked myself: “Ommigod. Did Shadow get into the turkey roaster?”
And what I saw, when we both stepped outside, was the cover, BY ITSELF . . .
. . . and, five feet away, the pan, with NOTHING IN IT! Licked clean.
I repeat. THAT ROASTER HELD ALL THE BONES FOR A 13-POUND TURKEY.
Geez, did I feel like a fool. And now what? Will he be okay? I looked around the yard and found absolutely no trace of the carcass. How could he have eaten all those bones? Might Kona (Colin’s big dog, who lives next door, and has a dog door to go in and out at will) have knocked the cover off? We all figure Shadow would NOT have done that. If they were both out there eating bones, then they must have done it one at a time, because in the presence of food, Shadow snarls and barks to keep Kona away. I would have heard that ruckus.
Might a raccoon have knocked the cover off, and perhaps eaten at least some of the bones?
So far, there have been no signs of trouble in the digestive system of either dog. But, and this is weird: Shadow spit out a tiny piece of bone this morning. Otherwise, he’s eating, walking, drinking, lying around, and pooping normally — so far.
Don’t know how long to continue this post-Thanksgiving vigil, but it does have me on edge.
So typical, these strange days. Wonderful experiences, followed by horrific mistakes that go unnoticed at the time, all due to absent-mindedness (transit Saturn in Pisces). Several near-car accidents, for me, so far, during this extended fraught period when transit Saturn squares my accident-prone Mars/Uranus opposition, and with transit Mars now beginning to conjunct my natal Mars in Sagittarius, thus amping up the Saturn/Mars/Uranus configuration, I attempt to maintain my center, ground and balance myself, while glancing continuously and worriedly over to little Shadow, to see if he’s still okay.
