No, not Thanksgiving...hunting season. Rifle season kicked in yesterday. The dogs have puked up deer guts four times already. Twice on the kitchen floor, once on the wood floor and once on the carpet. There's no way to avoid it. The hunters are right on the property killing the deer we've been watching all summer. This is the dogs' home.
M has taken to telling hunters they may as well drag their deer carcass into our kitchen and gut it there. That way they can cut out the middle man (dog).
May I remind you how much I hate hunting season?