GENTRY — (Note: This week’s column was written (well, sort of) by our chocolate lab, Bo; AKA, Bo-Bo, Bo Boy, Bo-Rowe, and Sonny Bo No.)
I have been part of the Rowe family for less than a year, so last weekend was my first experience with their big annual family Thanksgiving celebration. I am just now recovering from the shock! The Rowe home is usually fairly quiet and still, which suits an older dog like me just fine. However, the past weekend was a completely different story and I am left dazed and confused.
OK, so my owners tried to warn me ahead of time with comments like, “Get ready Bo Boy, a bunch of people will be here on Saturday,” but how was I supposed to know what is meant by “a bunch”? I honestly did not know litters could get as big as the one that descended on our place last Saturday.
Even days before the event, it was easy to tell something big was about to happen. Owner Earl worked around the place more than usual, and although he still took me for my daily run in the field, he didn’t seem to have much free time to throw tennis balls for me to fetch. Likewise, Owner Annette spent less time on the computer, with me snoozing on the rug behind her, and more time tidying up the house and running that noisy machine that I don’t like all over the carpet, with me trying to guess which way to move to keep from getting run over. And, that was just the beginning.
On Friday night people started showing up. I thought it was all going to be great at first. That couple they call Grandma Emma and JC were the first to arrive. I was impressed by the green tennis balls on Grandma Emma’s walker and thought she must be my kind of lady. I started to get one of the balls so that someone could throw it for me. Now, I may not be the brightest pup in the litter, but the reactions from those around me told me I had to leave it there. I was unaware that tennis balls had any other purpose except for my chasing. Call that a new trick for an old dog, I guess.
Sister Megan and that guy Brian that she brings with her were the next to show up. Megan always pats my head and talks to me and that is OK, but what I really like is having my back scratched. Brian likes me too, and sometimes teases me about going duck hunting, which reminds me of the days before I came to live with the Rowes.
Even with the extra company, things seemed fairly normal until early Saturday afternoon. Then, one car after another started rolling up the driveway. There were automobile tires parked everywhere and there was just no way I could get around to all of them.
Many faces, some familiar but many I had never seen before, piled out of the cars and they all carried in large dishes of stuff that smelled really tasty. I wanted to check out all they were bringing in, but it was about that time that owner Earl decided to banish me to the bedroom.
The noise level in the house was beginning to rise, so being alone in the bedroom wasn’t all that bad. Curled on the rug beside the bed, I napped on and off when I wasn’t listening for clues to figure out what was going on in the rest of the house. The aroma from the kitchen couldn’t be ignored, and during one of my naps I dreamed somebody slipped me a whole loaf of homemade bread.
After a while the house got quieter and I could tell the voices had moved out into the yard. Next I heard the farm truck start up and I got excited. Owner Earl usually takes me along when he drives that one. But nobody came for me, so I watched through the window and saw the old truck pulling some kind of wagon loaded with hay. It was hard to see the hay, though, for all the big and little people piled on it for a ride. I wanted to go but I am not sure they would have had room for me. Not long after the hay ride ended, people started to leave. Bit by bit things got quieter and they let me come out of the bedroom. I sniffed around the kitchen floor and found a few morsels that had been dropped. Yipee!
There were just a few extra family members left in the house and I could hear them tallying up how many were in today’s crowd. Sixty-eight in all! Gee-whiz! I do hope they remembered to count me!
Opinion, Pages 5 on 12/09/2009