On this Thanksgiving Day, the main topic in homes across the land is being appreciative and thankful for all our blessings. We cats who have cozy homes with willing cat butlers and maids are particularly fortunate.
After that it's food.
My manservant gets good marks for keeping my food dish filled and litter box clean. For that I am thankful. In the area of Thanksgiving traditions, he's a few giblets shy of a turkey dinner.
Eating chili outside in the cold by the river isn't a Thanksgiving celebration that I, Boat Dock, conjure up with my superior brain. Yet it's only one of the unusual Thanksgivings that have been part of his checkered holiday past.
One Thanksgiving long ago, the cat butler and his bachelor cabin buddy, Hog Ears, got the heck out of Dodge to spend the day of thanks on a Buffalo River gravel bar.
Back then, the CB and Hog Ears shared a backwoods cabin that was so far out in the sticks all the turkeys were wild. Being young bachelors, the townspeople took pity on them. Invitations to Thanksgiving dinner poured in from loving friends and neighbors. All the offers were greatly appreciated, but they put Hog Ears and my manservant in a sticky wicket.
If they accepted the invitation from family A, then families B and C would hear about it and might feel slighted. Or they may rejoice, like "Hallelujah they're not coming," but that's just me talking.
So the boys graciously declined every thoughtful offer. On Thanksgiving Day, they loaded up Hog Ears' 1972 Suburban, dark blue with rust trim, and headed for the Buffalo. In the back seat were two lawn chairs, an ice chest and two cans of Hormel chili.
There were bowls, spoons and a pan in a sack, along with a can of charcoal lighter for easy campfire starting. Boy Scout water, they called it.
An hour later on the river bank, they had a crackling fire going, thanks to the Boy Scout water. Lawn chairs were unfolded and set up by the fire, close to the water.
This was all before my time, but every Thanksgiving the CB tells this story ad nauseum.
Anyway, while their chili simmered, four other lads showed up at the river in a van. After a few howdies, the newcomers said they lived in Chicago and were visiting relatives in Mount Judea.
So like the pilgrims and Indians, all six sat by the campfire and broke bread together. I'll wager it was really crackers since they had chili. Hog Ears and the cat butler shared their feast, and made some new friends.
I can hear you readers now. "That's a good story, Boat Dock, but what's important is how does this affect your Thanksgiving?"
I'll tell you how. If the cat butler feeds me chili today he's getting a full-claw swipe across the ankle.
Outdoors on 11/27/2014