I got a mighty basket. The neighbor whose dog (not his, he said, he was dog sitting it) attacked me delivered a gift basket on Thanksgiving eve. It is big enough to make a bed for Mojo and piled with chocolates of all shapes and forms. There is wine and a bottle of port, and a huge bag of mixed nuts and another of walnuts in the shell. And a small pot of poinsettias. Below everything is a bag of mandarin oranges.
Mojo has already destroyed the ribbon entwined around the handle and he has eaten a few poinsettia petals, but I haven’t removed the basket from my dining table because I like looking at it.
With it came a card saying “Happy Thanksgiving — Thank you for being a great neighbor!” — signed by his family. Well, he is a good neighbor himself, has been all these years doing service for our community. Needed a slight adjustment about dogs on the loose.
My Thanksgiving dinner? I went to meet with seven friends 18 miles away and got lost for 30 minutes. Ended up next to a CHP compound and talked to a nice sheriff who gave me directions but I got lost again in the hinterlands where I found myself. The meal was late, but I caught up. I was thankful for having found the place at all.
The dogbite? It is healing.