DH and I had been dating about a year, and were both working Thanksgiving, and as usual, he signed up to bring the Thanksgiving turkey to the work potluck. We decided to have our own Thanksgiving on Wednesday -- we cooked a small turkey and invited friends over for "Thanksgiving" dinner. A great time was had by all, and much wine was consumed. My two golden retrievers got very lucky -- they got the turkey necks, some turkey fat and turkey gravy courtesy of the love of my life. He stayed over that night, and got up at midnight to put the 30 pound work turkey in the oven.
At 5 AM, when I got up to get ready for work my beloved was taking the work turkey out of the oven, and by the time we left for work he had carved it, arranged the slices attractively on a platter and disposed of the carcass. We had a wonderful potluck at work. I went home alone that night, my loved one went to his own house.
As I was driving up my driveway, which was a short but steep hill, I noticed that there was something leaking out from under the garage door and trickling down the driveway. With visions of sinks overflowing or water heaters bursting, I ran into the house and opened the door into the garage only to be bowled over by my goldens trying to get OUT of the garage and out the back door. There was no sink overflowing and the water heater was intact. What there WAS? Liquid stool from about hip height and trickling down, 365 degrees around the garage and trickling under the garage door to run down the driveway. It took me most of the night to clean it up.
My dear one had given the dogs all the turkey fat from BOTH turkeys -- they were hungry, they were begging, they deserved a treat. All that turkey fat had a predictable effect on their GI tracts, and the two of them must have been in profound agony before they gave up and pooped inside. Their must have been projectile diarrhea -- the whole garage was painted with it. I'm just glad I put them in the garage when I left for work -- imagine that all over the HOUSE!
When I got to work the next morning, my honey was standing by the front desk, all chipper and happy. "Good morning," he gushed. "And how did you sleep?"
All I could think of to say was "You sonofabitch." I was too angry to tell him why I was angry.
The folks in that unit are still talking about my demented husband giving the dogs all the turkey skin and fat from 50 pounds of turkeys and then leaving me to clean up the results. That story would get trotted out for every holiday potluck that even had the possibility of including a turkey, and I think he was glad to leave that job because he had hopes of leaving that story behind!