This house protected by one completely fabulous, over-the-top turkey

By SANDRA SNYDER on NOV. 27, 2014

Puppy dogs and kitty cats are fluffy and friendly and, yes, about as loyal to humankind as animals can get, to the end of days, yours or theirs. I’ve loved many of those in my life. Poochy and Bud and Dimples and Tiger, I hope the feast served across the rainbow bridge today is grander than ever. For you, too, Droopy. Let me never forget Droopy, Nana and Pop Pop’s circa-1970s sidekick, because of whom I will long and fondly remember People Crackers, which were no Beggin’ Strips but were otherwise the funniest form of snack you could feed a four-legger. If you ask me anyway.

Still, not every household can be lucky enough to own a pet turkey. This dude, a closer look:

Go ahead, be jealous.

I love him BECAUSE he is absolutely ridiculous. And opulent. And ablaze with color. And he moves! And breathes, sort of. By that I mean when you plug him in and he comes alive with all those lights he also makes a slight hybrid kind of rattling-humming noise to let you know he’s there, in case, you know, you should forget and try to let him fade into the background. As if.

Not gonna lie, the sound did take some getting used to. For the first few weeks this turkey and I cohabitated, I commenced several fruitless searches for moths or bugs or other elusive creatures (A hellbird bat? gasp!) that might be hiding somewhere and emitting this mysterious low pitch. And then, oh yeah, it’s just my turkey talking. Back to putzing then.

Now how did this relationship come to be? you might ask. Or maybe you might not, but I’ll tell you anyway. Well, I happen to have a fabulous honorary sister-in-law — which means she’s actually my sister’s sister-in-law, but I love her as if she were my own sister-in-law — and she happens to have a fabulous mother-in-law, who gifted her with Turkey 1.0, probably many moons ago. May I just say that Leslie, a woman I never met but now want to, hit an out-of-the-park home run with this gift? Today she should be proud of the legacy she has created and the joy she has shared across several state lines.

I was one of piles of people who used to regularly see Shannon’s — Shannon is my honorary S-I-L — annual turkey-trotted-out pictures on Facebook and promptly comment my love. We’re not talking any quickie like here now, friends. No, no, no, comment-worthy LOVE. So when I got to meet the turkey in person at a January celebration in Maryland we now call Winter Thanksgiving, well … I was finished. My heart swelled six sizes, and the love was official, one of those real at-first-sight-type deals. Hey, sometimes when you know, you know. You know?

So imagine my unbounded delight when Shannon posted one day, off season, that Leslie — bless you, Leslie! — had found more turkeys on a website for 50 percent off. Any takers? I think I was the first one.

Terrific Turkey officially became mine this summer, when Shannon and her fine husband, Rob, drove him, in a cardboard box, from Maryland to Hawley, where we were renting a lake house for a few days. I swear if it hadn’t been steam-oven August, I’d have tried to suggest Thanksgiving dinner right then and there just so I could rip in and set up like a kid on Christmas.

Instead I waited patiently until I got home to put him together and revel in giddy privacy. OK, maybe I had someone else put him together; that’s irrelevant. (Hapless Homeowner’s advice to anyone, whether you rent or own, is ALWAYS to keep someone in your life who can and will put things together.)

So … what do you think? Please be honest. If you are horrified, I won’t care. (I’ll just think you have no taste, that’s all.) Here’s the way I see it, chums. Every house needs at least one statement piece, and perhaps one that only comes out for a few weeks a year is just perfect, especially if maybe you live with someone who just does not fully understand you. By statement piece I don’t mean an original Dali or Degas, or even a perfect piece of Waterford crystal, but something downright kitschy-crazy.

Let’s face it: My home is not a Raymour & Flanigan commercial, and I hope yours isn’t either. No offense to R&F; I bought a coffee table there once, and it’s the one that keeps showing up in their commercials, and I really wish they would sub it out, lest anyone think I’m a follower. Or lack an imagination.

I believe my turkey speaks otherwise.

Bountiful, beautiful blessings this Thanksgiving wherever you are and whomever you are with and whatever you are doing. As years go, 2014 could have gone better for me in many ways, but there was certainly beauty. A new little one was born into our family, for one thing. Happy First Thanksgiving, Baby Dylan! And, later, this blog was born. And some of you actually even read it. For that, I am all kinds of thankful.

Now go in peace to love and serve the turkey.

~ SJS (AMDG)

“I give thanks to my Creator for this wonderful life, where each of us has the opportunity to learn lessons we could not fully comprehend by any other means.”

— Joseph B. Wirthlin