A couple, a child and a small dog travel to spend obligatory time on Thanksgiving with a sibling and his family. The siblings may be related by blood, but one would otherwise never know they were raised in the same home. 

Football, the one and only thing that ties the two related strangers together, is watched.

Meanwhile, the visiting dog—a surprise guest for the hosting family—is excitable. And small. The dog of the house, on the other hand, is big. Very big. 

The big dog is also happy—very happy—to have company of his own. Big dog follows small dog everywhere. Children are everywhere. Man of the house suddenly realizes he’s tracking dog poo through his own living room.

“But it’s a small poo,” says visiting brother. “From a small dog,” he continues as he turns his sights back to the game. Man of the house is fuming as he goes outside to clean his shoe and woman of the house breaks out the Resolve. 

First down. Yay.

An hour later, visiting small dog lifts its leg on the back of a chair. 

“It’s a small spritz,” says visiting sister-in-law, “from a small dog. Barely anything at all." She turns her sights to the game.

Woman of the house—being the consummate hostess—bites her tongue and smiles as she breaks out the Resolve, again. 

Field goal. Joy.

Thirty minutes later, dog of the house, being a dog himself, must re-establish his territory. Dog of the house is big, and therefore one can assume he also has a big bladder. 

One would be correct.

Man of the house and woman of the house break out a large bag of rags to sop up the reservoir, as—surprisingly—all other sights are turned back to the game. 

“That’s why we have a small dog,” visiting brother says. "Just easier."
 

Turnover. Yahoo.

Children begin yelling from the basement. Woman of the house investigates. Dripping water from above has interrupted their ping pong game. Woman of the house ponders the source momentarily. There is no water source above, yet—sure as sugar—something is dripping from above, through the billowed sheets tacked to the basement ceiling, directly onto the ping pong table.

Woman of the house has her epiphany.

She sees her husband coming down the steps. “We didn’t get it all in time,” she says to him as he joins her investigation. She motions to big dog with its wagging tail. Small dog jumps excitedly behind him.

Our host and hostess begin taking down the billowed sheets tacked to the ceiling, sheets that are now saturated with big dog's urine that seeped through the floorboards from above.

They break out yet another bag of rags, and, of course, the Resolve for the new puddle forming on the basement carpet from urine dripping off of the ping pong table.

Shouts from above tell them that the home team has just scored. Joy.

Woman of the house starts a load of wash and throws the sheets into the machine as sister-in-law comes into the kitchen for a drink refill.

“Laundry on Thanksgiving?” she asks.

Woman of the house—again, the consummate hostess—bites her tongue and smiles. “Can never seem to get caught up,” she says.

Shouts from the living room as home team scores again. Hooray.

Finally, dinner is consumed. Guests are preparing to leave. And kitty—who’s hidden himself away from all of the commotion—enters the kitchen, hobbling on three legs…

…with a tack—that held up the sheets now soaking in the machine because of urine that dripped through the basement ceiling from above which emanated from a big dog marking his territory because a small dog did it first after leaving a package of poo for the man of the house to track through his own living room on the bottom of his shoe and the woman of the house who’s since purchased stock in Resolve—stuck in his paw.

Big shouts from the living room. Interception for a runback touchdown. Game over.

“Thank God! I thought that game would never end, and we really need to get on the road,” says sister-in-law. “Our house next year?”

The woman of the house plucks the tack from the feline’s appendage. “I don’t think…,” she begins to say as big dog approaches and licks her face, and she smiles, “...we’d miss it for all the tea in china. And I speak for all of us, don't I, Big Boy?"