Thanksgiving

The weather is shifting around a bit lately. One day there is a snowbound rabbit in the yard, wriggling his nose at the howling wind. A few days later people are wandering around in their shorts, kicking their toes into the still-green grass.

Today was a shorts day I guess, even though the bird bath water was pretty stiff this morning. Or maybe everyone ate so much food recently that they are burning up extra calories, producing so much body heat they don't need winter coats.

I wouldn't know. I never get enough to eat. No matter what my Person says as she parsimoniously ladles out my meager Super Supper.

Though last Thursday was a day to be thankful for. I visited my Best Friend's family, having received a Personal Invitation to come dine. Once I knew where my Person's car was heading I could hardly stay in the back seat. In fact, my front end kept finding itself in the front seat even though I was obediently being a Backseat Dog. But I knew where I was going and could hardly contain myself: I was going to the house with the Turkey Room!

It is so wonderful I can hardly believe it exists most of the time. Imagine this: a nice place, with windows and doors and sofas and beds and water dishes and people and all the other nice things about a home. Plus a special small room, adjacent to the kitchen, completely dedicated to the resting and carving of freshly roasted turkey! Maybe there are other purposes for the room, but none that interest me. I am only interested in its Turkey duties. What a room! It is a small bit of Red Dog Heaven.

Every time I go to this house I run inside and right on by the row of hands waiting to pet me. I head straight for the Turkey Room and survey its contents. If there is a turkey in there, waiting to be carved, my joy is unbounded. My tail will wag for hours on end for I know that these particular people, at this particular house, love to share their turkey with me.

During dinner I sidle around the table, moving from person to person, neatly avoiding a certain Person who does not approve. Bit by bit, mouthful by mouthful, I have the best meal of the year.

But I am an excellent guest. And this year I helped by cleaning up the turkey board after the meal was done.

I am not really sure why this wonderful dinner happens every fall. And I am not sure why my Person doesn't make a Turkey Room in our own house. I do know that it makes me count my blessings and remember that sometimes the cold wind blows an invitation to a fine feast my way. And for that I am very Thankful!

Transformation

At dawn a pale sun wanly lit the morning world. I watched the morning unfold through the bedroom window, lying on plumped up pillows. Outside, the riotous birds began to breakfast, boisterous and contentious as birds, and people, only be can be. There is not much "sweet" in the bird world. Life is serious business, with the added glory and fun of being able to fly.

The morning crept on. The cats went from morning slumber to morning nap time. I looked out of the window and watched the day grow grim. It got darker instead of lighter. The wind came up but the trees did not throw their limbs about in wild autumnal abondon. Instead, they stood stiff and cold and they shivered from the base of their limbs to their outermost twigs.

And then the sleet began, small round balls of snow and ice packed together. And then flakes began to fall and the leaf piles swiftly disappeared into a bumpy white landscape. Evergreens grew a frosting of white and the leafless deciduous trees held crusty white ridges along the lengths of their slender branches.

The yard rabbit showed up in a great rush and found a new hiding spot under snow-bent branches. He snugged inside and is waiting out the winter's first gentle storm, peering out at a world that in one short day is completely transformed.

On this day

On this day the wind and the squirrels conspire
To knock over the bird feeder
The dog and sparrows eat together, nosing though the leaves.

On this day the wind pushes leaves back up from the ground
They land on branches
Like birds that forgot it was passed time to fly away south.

On this day a small red dog runs up the bottom of a rocky gorge
A small red fox awakens
Steals over the gorge top and disappears among umbered leaves.

On this day the last mulberry leaves have fallen
Leaving only buckthorn trees
Green against the soft fawn of oak and maple and cottonwood.

On this day the sun paints the other side of the river in ochre light
Snow dances in the air but does not fall
The red dog runs through leaves that whisper of his passing.

On this day the robin's knocking call announces evening
Crows argue with their kin
A hawk takes the day's last sail over the thick pulse of the gray river.