Thanksgiving 2010 was very uneventful; six of us gathered for a typical meal of turkey, stuffing, mash potatoes, cranberry salad, homemade rolls, corn ... well, you get the idea. We ate, had pie and left to take left overs to Gram some three hours away. However, Thanksgiving a year ago, 2009 was a very different saga. Life can get complicated even on the most well intended of days.
Our immediate family had traveled just across town to an extended family member's house for Thanksgiving dinner. The house was full of more extended family; adults, teenagers, and a couple of children from two sides a married family. Neither side knew the other well. Added to the mix was our adorable new, rescued puppy, Madden and my mother-in-law’s old, cranky canine, Nittany. One of the children in attendance was a precious thirteen month old little girl that LOVED both dogs and simply couldn’t keep her sweet little hands off of them. In fact, she just couldn’t leave either of them alone. Our puppy was good with that so we kept encouraging her to play with Madden but that was tricky, at best. She wanted some action with Gram’s old cantankerous canine as well. She clumsily climbed into Nittany’s bed (he was snuggled up along side Gram at the time) while her parents oo-ed, aw-ed and took pictures of the little cherub. Simultaneously, the relatives on our side of the family held their breath hoping the old dog, and Gram, wouldn’t notice.
We all took our assigned seats at the festive dining room table. Dinner was served. However, Thanksgiving dinner rapidly turned from delightful to stressful as the thirteen month old cherub wanted to be “down with the puppies!” The squirming and shrieking of a one year old can transform a Kodak moment into holiday chaos, so there we sat trying to pretend all was well as we made an attempt to ignore wondering toddler. No one noticed little cherub quietly wander over to the exact spot beneath the dinner table where a dog bed cradled Nittany as he was peacefully enjoying a holiday snooze. Little cherub gently reached to pet him and in a moments notice any shred of peace hanging in the atmosphere was chased away by sheer panic ... Nittany bit little cherub’s face and all “you know what,” broke loose!! Understandably, her mom and dad went bezerk. Mom grabbed little cherub and whisked her into the bedroom. Dad left a streak of swear words lingering in the stale air as he jerked the older child from his place at the festive table to pursue the hysterical mom carrying the bellowing toddler. All the while the hostess was accusing her husband of not watching the baby. The baby was crying and screaming as my mother-in-law burst into tears and wept uncontrollably while the rest of us sat like stone statues, frozen in time and space. Even the active, frisky puppy energy that is typical for Madden seemed to be suspended for a moment or two. We were stunned. We were perplexed and for a moment, no one even flinched.
The dad broke the silence as he surfaced from the bedroom and announced with obvious annoyance that although the bite didn’t break little cherub’s skin, it had marked and bruised his daughter’s cheek significantly, and immediately. The situation advanced from hysteria to even more awkwardness. Within moments the dad was muttering under his breath “that dog should be shot, put away! This is ridiculous ...” and although I don’t blame him, it was upsetting my mother-in-law who was just about as traumatized as little cherub had been. I rescued the moment by packing up while declaring that I would leaving with both Madden and Nittany, immediately if not sooner. Within seconds my husband, oldest son and mother-in-law emphatically insisted on heading out the door with me. We departed with one thought in mind; get Grammy and the dogs as far away from the holiday festivities and the family in crisis, as possible.
Isn’t wasn’t long before we were winding our way out of the neighborhood in the silent comfort of our Toyota Camry and our Madden began to puke all over the back seat of our car. Little cherub had been feeding him table food even though we asked repeatedly that the parents please keep her from doing so. As Madden heaved green peas, I began to laugh uncontrollably. As I cackled, my husband’s patience began to drain from his psyche which ignited more gut wrenching laughter from me. Gram thought our son was throwing up because she was in the front seat and can’t hear well. I successfully had the dog puking in a blanket but Ben was yelling for his dad to “pull over” so the dog could throw up outside and all the while our son was gagging mercilessly.
Grammy kept saying, “Poor boy, he always eats too many potatoes” and my husband kept bellowing, “MOM, IT’S THE DOG, NOT THE BOY!” By the time my husband got the car pulled over, Madden was completely done puking. We started our journey again. Moments later we pulled into our driveway as everyone, including Madden, begin to normalize. We had no more unpacked the car when the rest of the family made an appearance. The story was told a few times over with personalities highlighting various components and emphasizing their favored moment. I was just thrilled to have Gram’s homemade pies show up with the second entourage ... the biting episode took place between our first and second helpings of turkey, stuffing and the fixings. Sigh. Little cherub was going to be just fine ... something for which we were all genuinely thankful!!
Life can get complicated even on the most well intended of days.
Thanks Sherilyn for a much needed laugh on a cold, rainy day!
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