I’m at my client’s house on a crisp, pre-Thanksgiving afternoon—the kind of day when the air smells like cinnamon, fireplace smoke, and a hint of impending holiday chaos. As we chat, her small mixed-breed pup is happily gnawing away on a dog-safe deer antler like it’s the world’s smallest turkey leg.
“Fantastic!” I tell her. “Chewing is practically a spiritual practice for dogs.”
And honestly, it is. As omnivores with ancient, bone-crunching ancestry, dogs aren’t just eating when they chew—they’re connecting with millennia of canine history. Chewing is their meditation, their entertainment, their mental stimulation, and their dental hygiene plan wrapped into one.
While we unwind this time of year with knitting, reading, puzzles, or a generous pour of wine, dogs unwind by chewing. And just like our holiday rituals, these small pleasures make life richer—more comforting, more grounded.
After I leave my client’s, I’m suddenly on a mission: if a little mixed-breed pup the size of a Thanksgiving dinner roll can demolish an antler with gusto, then surely my dogs—Deuce and Rio—can become antler aficionados too.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. My dogs already have very robust chewing lives. They get a daily lineup of chew options. In our house, the nightly “chewy” is the official sign that the kitchen is closed for the day and it’s time to gather on the sofa to watch the last bit of November daylight fade. It’s our cozy, pre-holiday twilight ritual. Watching my dogs chew with such enthusiasm gives me this warm, chest-expanding sense of being a good dog mom. Truly my version of a Thanksgiving “gratitude moment.”
Of course, dogs have preferences: textures, flavors, even emotional attachments. Some chews are basically the doggy equivalent of childhood Thanksgiving dishes—a bone that brought comfort during puppyhood can still whisper, “You’re safe. All is well in the world.”
It reminds me of something a wine expert once said: “There are no good or bad wines, just the ones you fall in love with early.” Ah yes. That explains my unwavering devotion to red wines from northern Spain—Riojas. Which also explains why one of my dogs is named… Rioja. ¡Olé!
Growing up, my siblings and I occasionally got tiny sips of wine at our grandparents’ during holiday gatherings. Always under adult supervision, always part of the family celebration. I firmly believe this early, healthy relationship with “forbidden” things is why all five of us grew up to drink responsibly. Just like giving dogs their chews—openly, positively—results in well-adjusted pups.
But I digress (as holiday nostalgia tends to make me).
Back to bones.
If you’re preparing for the Thanksgiving season and your dog is eyeing all the kitchen aromas, this is the perfect time to offer new chew options. It keeps them busy, happy, and less inclined to dream up their own “culinary experiments.”
My dogs enjoy pig ears—devoured with near-spiritual enthusiasm. (And yes, before handing them over, I pause internally to thank the animals whose lives contributed to these treats. A private little Thanksgiving of its own.)
They also get marrow bones a few times a week. Once the marrow is gone, I refill the bones with sardines, baby food, or sweet potato mash—very in-season, very November. I freeze them so the edges get cold and smooth, which my dogs adore.
But my real holiday project? Turning Deuce and Rio into elk-antler enthusiasts. These things are calorie-free, long-lasting, safe, and wallet-friendly—basically the “perfect side dish” in the world of dog chews.
Are they excited yet? Well… we’re working on it.
The peanut butter trick was a bit of a Thanksgiving kitchen fail—too runny, even frozen. They licked politely but were not moved.
Today’s plan: coconut oil (firmer and festive!) topped with tiny nuggets of sweet potato like Thanksgiving garnishes on a platter. My goal is to make antlers the doggy equivalent of a caramel apple—something irresistible, seasonal, and memory-forming.
These little November projects bring me so much joy. They tap into my creativity and help me enrich my dogs’ lives in new ways. Everyone wins: they get new chew adventures, and I get that warm, pre-holiday satisfaction of doing something loving for someone I adore.
And that, my friends, is something to be thankful for.