Three-legged Wyatt Ray has his first Tripawd Thanksgiving, then eats a towel and t-shirt for dessert.
Hoppy Thanksgiving everypawdy! Did you have a fun pawliday with your pack? I know I did! That’s ’cause my grandmaw has gotten so soft in her old age, she finally let me sit by the dinner table for the big feast.
I was soooo good. I didn’t even beg too much. My people were so impressed they sneaked plates of pumpkin pie scraps to me!
But just because I’m now almost eleven years old, don’t think I’m not a hellraiser anymore. Nope, that just ain’t the Shepherd way. There’s still a lot of rebel punk in me. See, this morning, I ate a tasty dishtowel for breakfast when my people were away on a walk.
Then I ate some of Dad’s favorite running shirt. I heard mom say he needed a new one so I just gave him a head start.
The humans were not happy when they came back from their walk. Mom just kept saying “Why, Wyatt, Why?”
Later, she went to the grocery store to buy me all new dog food. Lots of it, in cans! Isn’t that a riot? I got to eat canned dog food after eating the towel and shirt?!
“He’s either gonna puke or poop,” she said to pops. Now they’re waiting for me to do something.
It’s Thanksgiving, which means it’s time to clean up my act and find out what WRD really stands for. Hint, it’s NOT Wyatt Ray Dawg!
I always thought my initials, WRD, were for my name: Wyatt Ray Dawg. That would make sense, right?
But apparently, during the pawliday season, WRD stands for something else. And I don’t like it one bit. I thought all that swimming I did last summer counted as enough bathing for a lifetime. But mom and dad had other ideas.
Life is ruff when you’re a dawg during the pawlidays. It’s all about being clean when you go visiting, right? How totally exhausting!
From me, Wyatt Ray Dawg, and my people: Hoppy Thanksgiving to you and your pack! May all the turkeys get pardoned, like my feathered friends in Montana.
Did Wyatt Ray have another pie-a-thon this Thanksgiving? Find out in his latest adventure when a Turkey Tripawd Celebrates a Festive Pawliday.
Hoppy Thanksgiving weekend Tripawds friends! I hope everypawdy had a fun pawliday getting spoiled by the pack. Mine was okay. Unlike last year’s pie-scapade, this year’s festivities were low key for me. Let’s put it this way: I didn’t end the night by throwing up or seeing the dogtor!
My people took me to my grandpawrent’s house. They have slick floors (and I don’t mean cool slick) that make it hard for me to walk. Mom was freaked out so she got me some more Paw Friction stuff and put it on before we made the big drive.
I’m not a fan of anyone touching my feet. But in this case it was a good thing. I got to my grandpaw’s crib and was able to hop around and beg for treats!
Unfortunately, mom and dad told everypawdy about my notorious pie-a-thon. “Don’t turn your back on him and don’t feed him anything!” they said to the other bipawds. So I got NO pie at all. Isn’t that mean?
Lucky me I got cooked sweet potato and some dark turkey meat instead. Better than nothing I say, and it makes me grateful for having such a pawesome pack who makes sure my belly is well fed. Even if it isn’t with pie.
I hope that your human and furry pack mates are having a fun pawliday weekend together! Keep in touch!
Can a German Shepherd eat two pies and survive? Find out with the latest adventures of Tripawd Wyatt Ray Dawg.
Hoppy Thanksgiving everypawdy! I hope you had as much fun as I did. My people cooked all day yesterday. Then their friends came over yesterday and I got very excited when I smelled all the yummy food. Like, stuff I NEVER see in our doghouse on wheels, starting with Turkey! Dude, I wanted to eat everything but I guess nobody heard my stomach growling.
Mom and Dad and their friends put me inside the doghouse on wheels while THEY went to eat all the good stuff. Can you believe that? I mean, why didn’t they invite ME?
When they were outside, I smelled something good. Mom must have thought that little baby gate was going to keep me away from it I guess. But when I put my giant schnoz to work and saw they forgot to take the pies over to the dining tent, I figured I’d help them out a little. After all, no humans need to eat that much, right?
So I moved the pies from their hiding place and guess what I did? Yep. I. Ate. The. Pies. Yes, that’s “Pie” with a “S”. Oh my dawg dude, the pecan and pumpkin pies Mom made were to DIE FOR.
And when my people came inside to get the rest of the food and saw that I ate the pies, they almost killed me!
Luckily, I didn’t die. I’m feeling a little woozy today but after everything I’ve eaten (like a road flare and shorts, for starters), my stomach is coated with iron. Nothing can take me down! Not even two Thanksgiving pies.
Even after I helped them with dinner, I didn’t get ANY of that turkey. Aren’t they so mean?