Thanksgiving 1982 -- The house was full. 16 friends and family members were gathered for the feast, including our 7-year old German Shepherd named Captain. Each newly arrived guest was given strict instructions, “If food falls on the floor, best to not reach for it. Captain will fight you for it, and he always wins. Captain lurked behind the couch and under the table at all our holiday gatherings. No falling morsel, no matter how small, missed his patrol.
I had a ham baking in the oven and a turkey out in the garage, where my electric roaster was used for holiday cooking. When dinner was ready, I asked my new brother-in-law Gary to bring the turkey to the table to be carved. Not long after, we heard terrible noises, a high-pitched scream and loud barking.
Yes, Gary had lost control of the wooden carving board. Captain beat Gary to the garage floor and now was proudly guarding his prized Thanksgiving bird.
We stretched the Ham around the table, and as you may have guessed, there were no leftovers.
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