Joey Survives Thanksgiving

Joey was an unwanted mutt (a beagle-mix, also called a "rabbit dog" by the local Amish ) who belonged to a neighbor of Phil's dad in rural Knox County, Ohio. When Dad learned that Joey had ended up at the pound, he offered to spring him if we would take him. (Dad had several dogs and was feeding about 56 outdoor cats on a limited income.) At first, I said no way. We already had a standard schnauzer, a pug, two teen-agers, and a cat. Ten minutes later, I relented. Phil called Dad, who rushed to the pound for an eleventh-hour rescue. Joey was scheduled to be put down that morning.

Joey never forgot his hard-scrabble puppyhood, when his owner often neglected to feed him. Even after he moved in with us, he seemed forever ravenous. We've always roasted two turkeys: one for our church's community Thanksgiving dinner and one for us. One Thanksgiving morning over twenty years ago, Phil was carving the church turkey while Joey stood under the table, wolfing down anything that fell and begging for more. I had just seen an article in the paper about dogs being rushed to the vet after eating too much Thanksgiving turkey. Some even die. I cautioned Phil to go easy on the handouts.

A little later I found a mound of frothy vomit on the carpet. Joey looked fine, but I thought, "Uh-oh, this dog's in trouble." I was wickedly busy. I knew that a trip to the emergency vet would take up the rest of the day, so I decided to keep an eye on Joey but say nothing to Phil for the time being.

Now where was that bag of mini-marshmallows for the sweet potatoes? I looked high and low. I finally found the ripped-open bag under the desk minus the marshmallows.

Joey survived Thanksgiving and we survived Thanksgiving without marshmallows on the sweet potatoes.