Mise en Place: Roy, Rabbits and Thanksgiving

About three weeks ago, my goofball Labrador Roy sliced his foot on something sharp in the backyard. He was chasing a feral/tame rabbit that has taken up residence under the garage and cut himself like Dan Akroyd impersonating Julia Child. At first I thought, eh, a little blood. Wrapped it up and went to bed figuring it would be healed by morning.

No such luck. As soon as I unwrapped it I knew it was time for a trip to the vet. Closer inspection revealed that the pad was sliced nearly off. Several hundred dollars and a large bandage later we had learned a life-lesson about chasing rabbits.

If you ever met Roy, one of the first things you would learn about him is that he has this thing about retrieving. The guy is 90 pounds of relentless when it comes to tennis balls. The upside of this is it’s really really easy to keep him exercised, and an exercised dog is a happy dog, if you believe Cesar Millan, and I do. I have to bend a few civic ordinances to accomplish this, but it keeps everybody but the dog-catcher happy.

Of course, anybody who has ever had any experience with obsessive compulsive disorder knows that cold-turkey removal of the object of compulsion is seldom without some psychic disturbance.

“Disturbed” is undoubtedly the best descriptor of Roy the past three weeks.
Earlier this week though we got the big thumbs up on removal of the stitches and a return to normal activity. I swear on a stack of sacred scripture, you never saw anyone on four legs or two that was happier, more grateful or appreciative. The first ball tossed, a weak effort on my part just to be sure it was OK resulted in a bison-like thundering. You may have felt it at your house. Gratitude and pure joy in motion.

It’s nice having a dog around the house, if for no other reason than they help “keep it real,” as the kids would say. To tell the truth, I can be a little bit jaded about holidays, especially the coercion of emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about any celebration that features mashed potatoes, a pile of presents or even mid-winter donning of lace lingerie. And, there is something powerful about ritual. My problem is that it’s easy for me to lose track of my real emotions gratitude, redemption and romance when they are scheduled for a specific day. But to tell the truth, I’d much rather be like Roy and celebrate when the mood washes over me like a tidal wave.

So, I’m hoping for a modicum of gratefulness this Thanksgiving, as I certainly have much to be thankful for. But I’m not going to push it. Maybe it will come, and maybe it won’t. Maybe it will wash over me on some clear cold day in December or waist deep in a river flicking a fly-rod next July. You never know, and that’s the beauty.

In the meantime, save me some dark meat and an extra helping of mashed potatoes.

John’s Grateful Roasted Garlic Yukon Gold Mashed Potatoes
Peel a bunch of Yukon Gold potatoes, about 2 per person, cut into chunks

Boil in plenty of salted water (don’t crowd the pot and make sure potatoes are covered by 2 inches of water)

Cut off top of a head of garlic, drizzle with olive oil and cook in 350 degree oven 30 minutes. Cool and pop out garlic cloves. Mash with olive oil.

When tender, drain mashed potatoes and return to medium burner for about 2 minutes. This draws all the residual moisture out of the potatoes .

Dump the mashed roasted garlic into the potatoes and dollop sour cream on generously (real sour cream, not lo/non-fat).

Mash by hand and don’t overdo it. Lumps are good. Be sure the garlic is well distributed though.

Serve with homemade gravy.