Thanksgiving is Thursday, November 26. That is not this weekend. It is soon enough that the house will start changing before you have a plan, and late enough that you can still practice the boring skills while the kitchen is quiet.
This is the week to decide three things. Where your dog will actually be while you cook. What you will practice between now and the meal. And which foods never become a reward, no matter how good he was or who is holding the plate.
If you skip those three and hope he will “just hang out,” he will. He will hang out under the cutting board, under the table, and under the person who thinks a scrap is love.
Where will your dog actually be?
Walk the kitchen the way the day will feel, not the way it looks on a Tuesday morning. The oven will be open. A sheet pan will come out hot. Someone will set a roll on the edge of the counter because both hands are full. A kid will drop something and not notice. Your dog will notice.
“He’ll just stay out of the kitchen” is not a place. A place is a crate he already uses, a room with a door that shuts, or a mat he can hold while you are still in the house. Pick one. Then tell every adult who will be in that kitchen which one it is. If two people have different answers, the dog will pick the one that pays better, and that’s usually the floor.
The crate is not a punishment for Thanksgiving. It is a known spot when the rest of the house smells like turkey. If he only goes in the crate when you leave, start using it this week while you are home, for short stretches, while you are actually in the kitchen. A dog who can settle beside a quiet stove has a chance when the stove is not quiet. A dog who has never been asked to settle until the bird comes out does not.
If the crate is not his place, do not invent one on November 25. Use the thing that already works. A closed bedroom with a water bowl and something to chew is a plan. A baby gate he knocks over when a drip hits the floor is not. Under the table, “so he feels included,” is how a dog gets a bone, a grape, and a lap full of gravy before the toast is over.
Decide it now, while nobody is visiting. Write it on the list you already keep for the meal, next to the bird and the pies. Where is the dog from the time the oven goes on until the plates are in the sink? If you cannot answer that in one sentence, that is the hole.
What to practice this week
You do not need a new trick. You need the skills the kitchen will test.
LEAVE IT. Use a boring piece of kibble, not turkey. Drop it on the floor. Ask for LEAVE IT. Pay him from your hand when he leaves it, then pick up the food. Five clean reps. Stop. Do it once a day in the kitchen, then closer to the counter, then while you’re moving around the room. If it falls apart, you went too far. Back up. The point is a dog who can leave food on the floor when you say so, before a roll is the thing on the floor.
OFF. If his feet come up on the counter, OFF means all four feet on the floor. Not “get down when I have time.” Not “it’s fine if I’m not using that counter.” Same word, every adult, this week. A dog who is allowed to counter-surf on Monday will counter-surf when the mashed potatoes are sitting there. He is not being bad. He is repeating what worked.
A settle that lasts longer than a photo. Sit or Down, then STAY, while you open the fridge or walk to the sink. If he breaks, reset him without a speech. You are teaching him that the kitchen can be busy and his job can still be to hold still. Five minutes of this with ordinary food will do more than a lecture about gratitude.
And the place you picked. Send him there while you chop an onion or rinse a dish, not only when guests are already in the driveway. Name it the same way every time. If Kennel Up is the cue your house already uses, use Kennel Up. Do not add a holiday cue he has never heard.
Practice before the bird is on the table. You will not have the attention for it during the toast, and neither will he.
What never becomes a reward
Good behavior does not get paid in turkey. Not a bite of skin. Not the “little piece” from your uncle’s plate. Not the drippings because he sat so nicely. The moment people food becomes the paycheck, you have trained a dog to stare, nudge, and stay under the table for the rest of the night. You have also handed him food that can make him sick.
Cooked turkey bones splinter. Don’t give them, and don’t leave the carcass where he can pull it off the counter after you sit down. Fatty skin, gravy, and buttery drippings are a common reason dogs end up at the vet the day after Thanksgiving. Onions, garlic, and stuffing made with them are not treats. Grapes and raisins aren’t a treat, even if they’re hiding in a salad or dessert. Chocolate is not a treat. Anything sweetened with xylitol is not a treat. Alcohol is not a treat. Corn cobs are not a chew. A plate that “fell” is not a free pass to clean the floor.
If he gets any of that, call your veterinarian. Don’t wait to see if he sleeps it off, and don’t try to handle it with a story from the internet.
The only reward allowed is the one you already use. A piece of his own kibble. A toy. Your voice. Praise after he does the thing you asked, delivered by you, not slid off a dinner plate by a guest who wants to be kind. Tell those guests before they sit down. “Please don’t feed him. We’ve got it.” Say it once, plainly, when they walk in. It is easier than fishing a bone out of a mouth during dessert.
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Dr. Robert Forto
is Alaska Dog Works’ training director.
Michele Forto
is the lead trainer for Alaska Dog Works.
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