Gloria and Gem
There will be a member of the Thanksgiving gathering at my rural Santa Monica Mountains home this year who will rank as “guest of honor,” even if she lolls under the table drowsily inhaling all the great aromas then snores loudly through the pumpkin pie and coffee finale.
No one will complain if she shirks dishwashing duties or exhibits an uncommon interest in the contents of the kitchen wastebasket.
Her name is Gem and she is a dog.
The fact that she has survived to b...
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