Andy and Rustino!

Andy's Thanksgiving meal.

Thanksgiving would be a wonderful holiday if not for all the football. I spend much of Thanksgiving wishing that the three F's were food, family, and "Frasier." Or "Friends," or any other television show that starts with the letter "F." I can't stand football. I hate it. In a universe filled with boring sports, football is the worst of the worst. When I realized, a couple years ago, that sometimes time went BACK ON THE CLOCK during football games, I almost slit my wrists right then and there.

We spent Thanksgiving at my parents' house yesterday, where there were four F's: food, family, football, and flea bags. They have two dogs. Sandy is the more pleasant of the two, and Rusty (which I found out yesterday is short for "Rustino") is the troublemaker. Rusty has a loud, grating bark that tears through your very soul, and he is quick to jump on you, nip at you, and scratch at your legs. As much as you may beg and plead, Rusty refuses to simply leave you alone and insists on getting up in your business while you perform any basic activity, such as breathing. Rusty is, frankly, kind of an asshole. So, naturally, when Andy assessed the two dogs upon walking into my parents' living room, he took one look at Sandy, the sweet one, and Rusty, the jackass, and immediately took a liking to Rusty.

Sometimes I wonder what we all did before Andy came along. How did we pass the commercial breaks and times between snacking and dinner and dessert without Andy to entertain us? What activity kept us busy when we didn't have Andy to chase after? It's only been sixteen months, but I can't recall what those B.A. (Before Andy) years were like. They must have been very peaceful, boring, kind of sleepy.

Here are the activities that Andy engaged in with Rusty yesterday during the Thanksgiving holiday. For every action Andy took, there was an equal reaction by the adults.

- Action: Tackling Rusty. Reaction: Tackling Andy, prying him off Rusty.

- Action: Being pushed down by Rusty. Reaction: Tackling Rusty, prying him off Andy.

- Action: Sticking his face in Rusty's butt. Reaction: Informing Andy that that's where Rusty goes poo, and warning Andy that Rusty might accidentally poo in Andy's mouth if he's not careful.

- Action: Biting Rusty's tail. Reaction: Soothing an angry Rusty, admonishing a puzzled Andy, making some lame joke.

- Action: Pulling Rusty's ears. Reaction: See above.

- Action: Walking Rusty around using his leash. Reaction: Attempting to take lots of pictures (unfortunately, Andy's a blur in most of them) and yelling, "You gotta come see this! Andy's walking the dog!" Then instructing Andy, in a scream, to let go of the leash when Rusty took off down the hallway at a full gallop, dragging Andy behind him.

- Action: Feeding Rusty cheese. Reaction: Getting more cheese out of the refrigerator.

- Action: Petting Rusty. Reaction: Hovering above Andy because at any moment a kindly pat on the back could turn into a torturous yanking of fur.

- Action: Trying to ride Rusty like a pony. Reaction: My mother yelling at me, "Andy's riding the dog like a horse!" Yelling back, "What? I'm in the bathroom!"

And so on. After a while (the first ten minutes into what would turn into a solid six hours of Andy messing with that damn dog), I got pretty sick of dealing with the admittedly adorable shenanigans of Andy and Rusty, and I asked if Rusty could be put in his cage. Apparently that was a cold-hearted request to make, because my parents acted like I'd suggested we feed the dog a jar of Tylenol PM and then put him in a car and roll the car into a lake. So, the dog stayed out, but I wasn't thinking as creatively as I should have been. Had I been on my game, I would have showed Andy the dog cage (I guess it's called a crate, not a cage) right away. Instead, Andy didn't discover the cage/ crate himself until around dessert time, when he did the most helpful task of the evening, and put himself into the cage. Finally, Rusty had a reprieve from the toddler, and the adults had a reprieve from the both of them.

Why, I keep asking myself, didn't I think to cage up Andy sooner?

Just so you know, Andy wasn't at any point locked in the cage, and he was free to crawl in and out of it using his own free will. But it was just the distraction he needed from the dog, and it was at that point that I added another item to the still growing list of things that I'm thankful for this year: cages that are roomy enough for rambunctious little boys who happen to think that cages are super fun.

All in all, it was a great Thanksgiving- especially since we were all too busy with Andy and Rustino to actually sit and watch any football. I guess you could say it all worked out.