Incoming! Oliver’s Thanksgiving Meltdown

A few Thanksgivings back, my sister asked if she could bring her well-behaved golden retriever with them for the day. Sure. Fine. No problem. I have four cats who used to tolerate dogs. Granted, “used to” was doing a lot of heavy lifting, but I took the risk.

The house was picture-ready. Appetizers arranged like I had a food stylist. Buffet dishes lined up like soldiers. Potatoes simmering on the island stove like they had every intention of behaving. My sister walked in with her angelic dog, and for one shining second, everything was peaceful.

Then my most laid-back cat took one look at that golden retriever and snapped into high alert like someone had fired a warning shot. One second he was fine, and the next he was acting like the dog had breached the perimeter and he was the last man standing.

He launched himself into the kitchen with the speed of a raccoon possessed. He didn’t just run. He parkoured. Straight over the stove, through the potatoes, across every appetizer I’d lovingly arranged. One tray hit the floor like it had been sniped. He continued his mission through the dining room and out of sight, leaving a path of destruction that would have impressed FEMA.

For a moment it felt like I had been dropped into National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, except the animal causing chaos was mine and nobody had the decency to roll credits.

I wasn’t even mad. It was the funniest thing I’d seen in years. My Thanksgiving dinner looked like it had survived a bar fight, but honestly, 10 out of 10. Would invite the dog again.

A little grace, a little grit, plenty of laughter,

~Stef