One Thanksgiving got crazier than usual when our dog, Max, refused to stop barking at the turkey my husband had just picked up. I thought the dog wanted to eat a piece, but when I removed the plastic covering, I realized Max was alerting me to something that had me calling for immediate help.
I’m Athena, but everyone calls me Ace. I’m a 32-year-old wife, dog mom, and, as of last Thanksgiving, the unwitting star of a crime thriller. Okay, not really, but that’s what came to my mind back then.
A woman petting a dog in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
It all started Thanksgiving morning. My husband, Kyle, offered to grab the turkey we had pre-ordered at the local organic butcher shop so I could focus on the chaos in the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon!” he said, cheerful as ever, before heading out.
I should’ve known something was off when “soon” turned into over an hour.
When Kyle finally returned, he looked frazzled. His hair was messier than usual, and his smile seemed forced.
“Took longer than I thought. Had to hit three places and help Mom with something. Everything’s fine, though,” he said, breathless.
But before I could ask for details on what happened, his phone buzzed. “Great. Mom’s car broke down in the middle of the road. Gotta go help her, and I’m probably driving her here.” And just like that, he was out the door again.