It's Raining Meat!

Hallelujah it's raining meat! A treat!*

*Yes, that's a bastardization of the classic "It's Raining Men," by The Weather Girls and written (at least in part) by Paul Shaffer of David Letterman fame.

Every holiday, as we're clearing the bountiful leftovers from Grasshopper's table, I have a tradition for clearing away those little tiny bits of turkey that fleck off onto the platter. I call in Grasshopper's dogs (a Jack Russell terrier known as Circus Dog and a cocker spaniel knows as Just Another Pretty Face). I hold the platter high above their heads and slowly turn it over while singing, "It's raining meat, hallelujah, it's raining meat!"

Every year I've threatened to tape it to send to David Letterman because I feel it's a tradition he might enjoy hearing and seeing. The dogs absolutely loved the meat rain. For them it was a miraculous dog dream come true: meat falling from the sky. For me, it was just damned fun because they went wild with excitement and joy and the frenzied eating that can only accompany a good meat rain.

Then, I ruined it all last Christmas by carelessly throwing some meat to them during dinner and not paying attention to see that they found it. So, after dinner we hear the dog fight to end all little dog fights. We literally had to tear them apart. Circus Dog, who is quicker and smarter than Just Another Pretty Face, had gotten to the meat before Just Another Pretty Face could get there. Just Another Pretty Face decided if she couldn't have the meat, she'd take Circus Dog's ear. Poor Circus Dog walked around with this wraparound bandage on her head for a week or so so her ear could heal back together.

Now, no meat throwing. No raining meat. No tape for Letterman. No sharing this holiday tradition with the masses.

And, I so knew it would really take off.

It seems it was my time to learn that age-old lesson about the dangers of carelessly tossing your meat around.