I'm not much of a meat eater. Even when I was competing on the horse show circuit I was known for dragging along my miniature microwave oven that was about the size of a shoe box and had wattage that equaled an Easy Bake oven. While everyone else would go out to dinner and dine on who knows what at the showgrounds, I was huddled in my motel room, hovering over my midget microwave while it labored to cook frozen rice and peas or a Idaho potato. So when Thanksgiving comes around I'm not drooling over the carcass of poultry in the oven or deliberating about whether I want light or dark meat. I'm savoring the creamed corn, the sweet potato casserole, the roasted Brussels sprouts and the gingered carrots.
My husband, on the other hand, eats as if I haven't fed him in a week.
My two horses have comparable eating habits. Wally literally makes sounds while he mooshes his way through his bucket of pellets. Whatever happens to get inside his mouth is fine with him. His lips are coated with a crust of pellet dust and saliva. It's fortunate he's not a guy. What woman would date a man who slobbered at the table and made yummy-bear sounds while he chewed?
Lexi is a dainty, picky eater. She will push aside her pellets looking for that one last oat kernel at the bottom of her bucket. Were she a human, she'd be the prissy lady who took forever in the buffet line. She'd hold the salad tongs in her hand and forage through the bowl of spring greens, hunting only for radicchio and baby spinach.
Finally, someone behind her (probably my cousin Rick) would call out, "Just grab a bunch of salad and move on, Lexi! We're starvin' here!"
I'm sure your family has its own cast of characters, just like mine. And you can probably envision what it'd be like if your horses happened to magically, mystically show up at your Thanksgiving table. What a sight, eh? Now that would be a holiday to remember!
May you have a bountiful, lovely Thanksgiving, surrounded by friends and family!