... and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... not even a puppy. Actually, Savannah was 'stirring' quite a bit this morning while I was busy cooking. She got hold of one of Sweet Pea's blankets and started to chew on it... and because I was busy in the kitchen and not paying attention, she chewed a big hole right through it. When I realized how quiet it was in the TV room, I went in there and found Savannah's head immersed in the center of that blanket and she was surrounded by all sorts of threads and bit and pieces of the fabric. I stood there with my hands on my hips and I gave her my best "What are you doing?!" look.... and she moved away from the blanket and jumped up on the sofa and put her head down as if she had never seen that blanket in her life. Oh well. Into the trash it went. I didn't say a word to Savannah because she already knew that chewing up the blanket was wrong.
I've been busy all morning with preparations for tomorrow's dinner. With a little hiccup (the kitchen plumbing) tossed into my perfectly planned do-ahead schedule, I've been playing catch-up all day long, but everything I needed to do is done. Now it's my husband's turn in the kitchen... he makes the oyster stuffing and the mashed potatoes.
Our company tomorrow is bringing the pies, so I didn't have to bake my usual apple pie and pumpkin pie, and with the mishap (an understatement if ever there was one) with the plumbing and the water heater, the gift of the pies was a blessing. Over the past couple of weeks, though, my husband has been bringing home pies from the local stores... peach, cherry, apple. All very good, but I just prefer my own. At night when my husband has a slice of pie with ice cream, he is also fixing a small portion for Savannah. (As I've written before, our rule about not giving people-food to Savannah has been lost in the wind a while back.)
So there they are every night lately... my husband with a slice of pie and ice cream, and Savannah with her mostly-crust coated with a bit of fruit filling, and a small dollop of ice cream on top of it. Talk about being in puppy heaven... the look on her face is priceless when she gets that bowl. And, smart puppy that she is, as soon as my husband opens up the pie box, Savannah is in the kitchen by that counter and she is sitting down with both eyes focused on the pie. And she doesn't move from that spot, or hardly even blink, until she gets her puppy-portion of dessert.
The kitchen will be filled tomorrow morning with the aroma of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes, and Savannah will soon know what Thanksgiving has to offer. I'm hoping that the weather will be as beautiful and as warm as it was today... and I'm hoping that Savannah will behave during dinner so I don't have to put up the gate in the breakfast room. Too much to hope for from a seven-month-old puppy? I hope not.
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