When I called Mother last Wednesday to see if she needed anything for Thanksgiving, she informed me that her and Dad's dog, Whiskey, had not been seen since she let him out that morning. Someone had suggested to her that he had found a girlfriend, so I told her not to worry, as most males lose interest in the girlfriend of the moment as soon as they get hungry.
When I got home on Thursday, Whiskey still hadn't shown up. That, coupled with WVU's piss-poor performance against Pitt up at the new stadium, cast quite a gloom over Thanksgiving, despite the good food and good conversation. Mother asked us to go around the table naming one thing we were thankful for this Thanksgiving. Her choice was the best: "I'm thankful that I won't have to cook another turkey for a year!" Hating turkey as I do, I had to agree. The gravy, though, was pretty good, especially considering that I made it and with beef broth. Beef broth and turkey drippings aren't so bad together.
We were all getting pretty concerned about Whiskey when he hadn't shown up by the time we left on Friday, considering that we live in the country and the woods behind our house sounded like a battleground. I've got no problem with hunters, as long as they get the deer before they end up running in front of my car. I'm not surprised that there was a record deer harvest; I've never seen so many deer by the side of the road, both dead and alive. Dad scoured the woods and found no sign of Whiskey. I made up a flyer for him to put around the neighborhood with a picture that I'd gotten from the digital camera.
Once again, Murphy's Law reigns supreme. You prepare for the worst, and then something good happens. Dad got a call on Monday from the folks who had found Whiskey and kept him since Wednesday evening. He's safe and sound now, and back home with Mother and Dad.
So we are looking forward to a Christmas with Whiskey in abundance.