FISH and TALES
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(Jim Horan -
The day started off around 5 a.m. when Butkus stomped on our chests yelling "No pardon, No pardon"!
"What are you talking about? Nixon is dead!"
"No pardon, No pardon. Clinton shouldn't have done it. He had no right!"
"Butkus, give me a break. What are you talking about?"
Well, it seems that Butkus had gotten up early and turned on CNN and saw a 50 lb. Turkey at the White House. He was quivering as if in a high state of erotic arousal...and then the announcer said that Clinton had pardoned the turkey. That did it! HE proclaimed, "Turkeys should not be pardoned, they should be eaten!" Dottie and I looked at each other as she slid out of bed, put on a robe and went to the open window, where she foisted herself through with great agility as I handed her the keys to the garage and quickly shut the window. Butkus looked puzzled.
"Don't worry about it", I said. "She's just going for a stroll to her garden". He fell for it in spite of the thermometer showing 20 degrees. So far our plan was succeeding. Maybe this would be a Thanksgiving where we didn't have to call Pizza Hut.
Out in the garage, where she had prepared the turkey the night before, Dottie did the final stuffing and flicked the switch to begin the roasting process. So far, so good!
Inside as we sipped our morning coffee and tea respectively, a thought occurred to her. Did she plug the cord in? Oh God! Without thinking she went to the door leading to the garage and cracked it open a tad. Too late! With the force and speed of a Charles Haley going for a Brett Favre, she was slammed into the door jam and left crumpled with claw marks on her back. HE was upon the roaster in a flash! Just as she brought her beaten and near broken body into an upright position, a second blow put her down for the count! The spirited EmmyLou, just finishing her first year and a scant 1 1/2 lbs. lighter than Butkus, had learned her lesson well at the hand... er, ..paw, of the master.
Knowing better, having been taught that my Mother raised no fools, I stood back in a corner with my robe askew, aware of a certain anatomical vulnerability and knowing there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation. Thank God the bird was dead, as no living thing should have to endure what was observed and could only be thought of as a positive by the likes of a Jeff Dahmer. It mercifully was over quickly as Butkus buried his teeth in the left drumstick and EmmyLou did likewise to the right. The sound of tearing flesh was particularly disturbing, and thankfully not witnessed by Dottie who lay unconscious throughout the entire ordeal.
The final indignity and coup de grace was the sight of both felines, in unison, raising their necks to allow the passage of the last vestige of the turkey. All these occurrences took place in the span of 1 minute and 37 seconds, and as Butkus proclaimed, "We took 21 seconds off our last years' record"!
As I cradled Dottie in my arms, calling her to consciousness, I whispered the endearing and solace giving words, "Honey, the number is 555-
From our family, to all of you...We wish you a Happy Thanksgiving and a moment of reflection for all the things we all have to be thankful for. At the top of your list should be that Butkus lives with us and not you! We hope you all enjoy your turkey as much as...we....... will....enjoy..... our......Pepperoni!
"What do you say to all the folks, Butkus?"