GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER

Ooooh, over the river and through the hoods to somebody's house we go!

Ok, party puppies.  THE party down day of the year is nearly here, and if you have been invited to savor a fine meal, companionship, jocularity, and wine and song, we're here to help you make Thanksgiving a very special day.

One you will remember and cherish until next Thanksgiving Day. 

If you can remember it at all.

Now, this is only for street puppies who have been invited to dine with civilians.  At their abode.

We're not talking about a 'feed' and long lines of puppies, paper plates grasped in cold fingers, smiling faces behind long tables , and strong arms loading your plate with the usual fare, dressed up with,maybe, if you're lucky, real turkey, ham and sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie and at the very end of the table a take away bag with tooth paste, body wash, and socks and other stuff which can only remind you that you are not going away from the table to a sofa and sprawl away the afternoon watching a lot of guys  dressed  in knee pants and helmets beat up on each other.

No, you, you lucky puppy you, are going to an actual house, condo, co-op, trailer, or even an RV driven all the way down from Flint, Michigan to sit in a park the whole winter,  while the driver watches a lot of guys dressed in knee pants and helmets beat up on each other.

Now, we have addressed this issue before - dining with civilians - but a refresher course is good when one considers that wherever you have been invited, you are representing every Street Puppy in homeless nation, and it is important to be on your best behaviour in that house, condo, co-op, trailer or RV.

How you got invited to the civilian abode is not important.

Most likely some kindly person got loaded one night, and talked to you for five hours at a saloon he stumbled into because he forgot where he had parked his car.

And even more likely, woke up the next morning in his abode, checked his voicemail to see if any messages were from the police asking  him to come down for a chat about the place where his car had been towed from,  and instead,  found, to his horror, your message thanking you profusely for inviting him over for Thanksgiving dinner with the folks.

Like we said, doesn't matter.  The die is cast.  The toothpaste is out of the tube. The genie is out of the bottle.

Anybody who takes back an invitation to a holiday dinner with family is truly a churlish and mean person and he knows that, and right now, all he can think of is how to break the news to his wife that he has invited a homeless guy to Thanksgiving.

If this civilian has extended the invitation to a gal he has met in a saloon, all bets are off.  No amount of self loathing over being a churlish and mean man is worse than a divorce over the holiday season.

So.  A few quick tips to get through the day.  A day, which for you, if you haven't been in a true home in a long time, could be nerve racking.

Not to worry.  The guy who invited you is kinda bent out of shape about it too.

Ok.  First.  Do not bring the back pack.  leave it in the bushes outside his house if you have to, but don't even think of bringing that thing into a civilian's home. 

Second.  Clean up before you present your self at your host's door.  And that includes the finger nails.
Even if you have to use TWO Wendy's washrooms to do it.  And shave. 

Third.  Lose the hoody.  Get a college sweat shirt from the local thrift shop.  Harvard will do, but University of Michigan is better...it screams..."Clean Cut, wholesome... and not smarter than you, the dolt who lost your own car."

Fourth. Take a gift for the hostess.  Anything....well, not a hygiene kit, or a blanket you got from the feed at the church, and nothing personal like a cheap bottle of cologne.  And don't steal it.  Bad karma.

Fifth. Be polite...V  E  RY  polite.  No chips on the shoulder, no whining, no staring at the old guy in the corner who is cursing at the cat.  he's loaded, and probably doesn't know where he is anyway.

Sixth.  No groveling.  You've probably been in homeless nation long enough to know there's a lot of social climbing down going on.  But, resist the impulse, when the platters are brought to the table, to moan in ecstacy..."My God!  A real potato..."  And other things which will unsettle anybody else at the table.

Seventh.  If you drink at all...and you will notice some hesitancy at offering you a libation...say.."A beer would be fine."  Period.  And stick to it.  Obviously, in some parts of homeless nation, offering a beer to a street puppy is like offering a donkey one oat.  And you do your share of drinking, but don't even think about getting as loaded as your host...and the old guy in the corner.

Eighth.  Don't scratch your ears out, don't pick the nose, don't eat like an underfed pit bull, and do NOT pick up a morsel of food with your hands.

If you are wondering why all of these pointers are numbered, it's so that you can use make notes of them on the inside of your shirt cuffs.

Ninth...and last...and most important, do not, under any circumstances, embroil yourself in any conversations which bear any resemblance at all to long simmering family feuds and rivalries and carefully nurtured grudges..these things always erupt at Thanksgiving family dinners.  They are awkward, and  can easily get out of hand, and you do not want to be remembered as the homeless guy who tried to solve a family fight by taking sides with that old guy in the corner.

Relax, have a good time, eat well, and smile a lot. 

Then, thank everybody profusely and sincerely, make a fashionably early exit...and head straight for that bar where you met the host.

You've earned it.