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The First Thanksgiving

It’s a Dog’s Life . . .


ME:  [Dog wanders into kitchen]. Good morning. Look who decided to finally get out of bed.

DOG: [In a grumpy mumble] Morning.

ME: Happy Thanksgiving.

DOG: Whatever. Where’s my breakfast?

ME: Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  [Puts pot and spoon aside. Pulls dog food from the refrigerator and places it down in the dog’s dining space.]

DOG:  [Looks down at his breakfast then back to me.] What is this slop?

ME: It’s your breakfast.

DOG: What are you trying to pull? I smell all those delicious aromas coming from the kitchen, but you are trying to feed me this!

ME: It’s Thanksgiving. What you smell is for the family tonight.  We just a need a little food now before the big feast.

DOG: I want the feast now.

ME: Well, you will just have to wait. Eat your breakfast and reflect on all the things that you have to be thankful for.

DOG: Like what?

ME: You have a daddy that loves and takes care of you, don’t you?

DOG: He feeds me slop.

ME: Open the wine.

DOG: It’s 7:30 AM.

ME: I know.

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