Turkey… up in smoke… again

The thing that awakened me at 2:30 this morning was the churning and gurgling sounds emanating from our other Rottweiler; name of ‘Naughty’. 


She has exhibited a weak constitution from the day we brought her home from Rottweiler Rescue three years ago so she is on a strict diet of lamb and rice dog food – anything else will cause her to rumble, fart and worse - for days.  We are constantly reminding house guests not to slip her any morsels of people-food lest the Hoggards have to deal with extreme Rottweiller flatulence that causes us to breathe through moistened handkerchiefs while watching television.


So I knew something was up as her stomach nearly screamed from her sleeping place on the floor next to our bed: “Listen here… I have ingested people food“.  Knowing that only the five members of my family were present for Thanksgiving dinner, I knew that we hadn’t fed her anything untoward – but then, through my tryptophan induced fog – I recognized the aroma of her frequent and loud dog-belching: smoked turkey.  But… how?… then I knew… and came downstairs to confirm my suspicions.


Three things you need to know.  First, I volunteered to rebuild next-door-neighbor Rick and TK Miller’s back door.  Lacking an actual woodworking shop, my normal course is to perform such projects on sawhorses set up on our deck in the back yard.  Second thing… we had way too many leftovers to stuff into our kitchen refrigerator.  Even though we have an old cast-off fridge in our basement – I didn’t see any reason to go through traipsing all the way down there when the almost-repaired door was so conveniently located just steps out the back door… and anyway, and thirdly, the weather forecast said it was going to get real cold outside during the night.


See where I’m going with this?


As I came downstairs, I noticed that Rottie Frank was not in his usual sleeping spot on the couch.  So with fragrant and burping Naughty following me, I opened the back door and flipped on the floodlights that illuminated a scene straight out of my favorite seasonal movie: A Christmas Story.


I don’t know which one of the two actually jumped up and got the barely-eaten 22lb, roaster-encased turkey from where I had placed it in the middle of a 3-foot wide door that was that was sitting 3 feet off the ground – but I suspect it was the more athletically inclined Frank.  It was probably Naughty who wrestled a hefty leg from Frank’s new found treasure and then thought to herself, “stuffing… I need some stuffing” and returned to the old door for a heaping helping of that as well.  Rounding out their starch-rich late night snack, they figured that no Thanksgiving meal would be complete without mashed potatoes, and, well – we’re already in deep doo-doo - and there’s a bowl full of them just right there - let’s go for it.


Attesting to the sedative effects of a fine and over-abundant turkey dinner – the two of them are still slumbering away on the couch as I write this after 10:30a.  Only our third dog, a Pekingnese (weird, but true) named Chester, who either slept through last night’s feast or was just too small to compete during the feeding frenzy, has shown any interest in eating breakfast.


As for me – I’m getting ready to fire the smoker back up and head to the grocery store to find a marked-down price on some turkey that didn’t find its way onto someone’s table, or some Rottweiler’s stomach, yesterday.  Despite this tragic setback, I will not be denied my turkey sandwiches on white bread for five days straight.


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Update: LUX.ET.UMBRA says my sleeping dogs and the nap you took yesterday ain’t about the turkey.

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