I have previously posted about Bob’s death, his unfortunate demise of systemic cancer when he was only 8 years old. He had by then become so much a part of our family that we tried everything we could afford to try when the vet said his condition could be treated. That meant chemo-for-dogs, and the results weren’t very pretty.

He was diagnosed with cancer just a year after our son had died, and we just couldn’t face another family tragedy – my own father had died of a heart attack just months later, my husband’s father had a heart attack the day of our son’s funeral. We’d had our fill of grief to last some years.

We packed up bob and the rest of the family and headed out to Oklahoma to spend Thanksgiving with my husband’s mother, who had promised to cook her very last turkey if we’d make the trip. How could we refuse? Bob’s chemo had definitely taken a toll by then. His hair had been falling out in clumps, making him look rather mangey, and he was putting on weight like nobody’s business. I’d say that was just the steroids, but his appetite was voracious. Poor guy.

My brother-in-law and his wife and four kids were all there, the four of us plus Bob, and the grandparents. I’d been working all day to prepare all the side dishes, so when the turkey came out of the oven I had set it aside at the far end of the counter to await completion of the rest of the feast. We family members gathered in the big living room to hold hands and give our thanks, and Bob snuck into the kitchen…

By the time Grandma and I got there to put everything into bowls for the buffet, Bob had that turkey on the floor and was finishing off a drumstick, preparing to go for the other one. I was mortified! Grandma’s last turkey dinner, and Bob had ruined it! I prepared all my defenses, feeling very sorry for Bob and not all that sorry for us. My dear mother-in-law, however, surprised me.

She started laughing. I mean, really laughing, out loud. She called the whole family in, bent down to get the turkey away from Bob (who shouldn’t be eating turkey bones, y’know), and gave him a mighty hug with tears rolling down her cheeks. Poor Bob! She loved that dog nearly as much as we did, as he’d assigned himself as Grandma guardian after my father-in-law’s heart attack, never left her side the whole time he was in the hospital and recovering at our house, even slept at the foot of her bed.

She told me her life was now complete, she’d had a turkey eaten by the dog on Thanksgiving! It would be a funny story she’d get great mileage out of forevermore, and not a single member of the family complained that only the breast was left for us to eat. We just washed it off and put it on the table, my hubby carved it like usual, and the kids ate it without a qualm.

We had to put Bob down just a couple of months later, but Grandma still talks very fondly about him and cherishes the story of Bob and her Last Thanksgiving Turkey. Now I roast the turkeys, and she doesn’t have to raise a finger. Grandpa’s gone now, and she doesn’t do much cooking. Yet every Thanksgiving in all the years since, no matter where she’s having dinner, she tells the story and always gets a laugh. You just haven’t lived a full life, she tells people, unless you’ve had your Thanksgiving turkey eaten by the dog at least once!

Thanksgiving is a great holiday, always a major Big Deal here on the mountain. That all started decades ago when we lived in Oklahoma, and signed on as the communications directors for a grant-based hunger project called “The Whole World Family Supper” that was scheduled to be a Thanksgiving feast for everybody, everywhere.

All of a sudden our little family gatherings just weren’t enough anymore. By the time we’d moved to Florida and became full time performers – with a friends list that included circus folk, traveling medicine shows and all sorts of other itinerant musicians and crusty jugglers – Thanksgiving became an annual pilgrimage to a St. Augustine boatyard an ex-Air Force friend managed. Price of admission was at least one homeless person or otherwise destitute person, and it got bigger every year. By the time we moved to North Carolina the boatyard Thanksgiving feast (a pot-luck affair) offered 4 turkeys and two hams pit-cooked by our host, at least 60 people, and stretched out with leftovers for the entire 4-day holiday weekend.

Now that we’re here on the mountain it’s still a Big Deal. We average at least 24 people every year, which is a heck of a crowd to host in a 28′ square cabin complete with dogs. And we often have 7 or 8 dog guests too, friends of our poods and strays, part of our many friends and family’s families. They get Thanksgiving Dinner too. It is a family supper, after all, and dogs are family.

We usually have a couple of turkeys, sometimes three. Not everybody eats turkey – some here are certifiable vegetarians, others are vegetarians who make a special exception for holiday feasts. I usually cook one a day or two in advance, slice up nicely and pack into tupperware for seconds and thirds. That way I only have to cook one for presentation’s sake, whether the food table’s on the deck, out in the yard, or inside the cabin because it’s raining (or, God forbid, snowing). It can get really crowded when that happens, so we feed the dogs in the shed and quite a few guests will choose to consume their meal there too.

Now, dogs can’t eat everything I make for Thanksgiving. It takes some thought and preparation to concoct them a fine homemade dog feast. By cooking the extra turkey beforehand, I’ve the neck and giblets as well as juices and pickings that we don’t need to use for the dog meal. To that I can add the neck and giblets from the T-Day turkey too. I boil these good, pick off any meat from the neck, and discard the bones. I get an extra bag or two of bread stuffing mix (it’s cheap), sometimes go ahead and cook up a cake pan of cornbread the night before too. The bread and cornbread gets crumbled into a big tupperware container and I pour the giblets boiling water and roast drippings over it, mix it all up well.

Trick for the dogs is not to add any salt, any butter, any cooking oils, any chopped onions, celery or herbs that I use in preparing stuffing for humans. I add turkey skin to the giblet boiling water too, but this has to be removed from the mix because it’s hard for dogs to digest. Don’t make gravy out of this stuff, the dogs will like it just as it is. While making up the side dishes I usually put a scoop or two of mashed potatoes and some hopping john into the bucket to mix in well too. Chop those giblets up so they’re the size of the picked turkey meat.

I divvy this all up in old pie tins according to how many dogs are present. Feeding them down in the shed while we’re eating keeps them from being underfoot and begging food they shouldn’t have from the human diners. Dogs shouldn’t have anything sweet, fruity, highly salted or with large butter/oil parts. They should of course never have turkey bones either.

The links below offer useful information about what dogs can and can’t share of your Thanksgiving dinner. Plan ahead and your canine family members won’t have to be left out of the celebration.

Links:

Could Thanksgiving Dinner Kill Your Dog?

A Dog’s Thanksgiving Day

Include Fido In The Feast!