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Something scratches at the bedroom door.
You’re topping off the sweet tea when the table bursts out laughing, and for a second you almost don’t hear it. Your dog’s been behind that “do not disturb” post-it since the first guest arrived.
Everyone’s settled in except the one who actually lives there.
The group chat has spent a week negotiating the menu, you’ve changed the centerpiece twice, and the playlist has been ready since Tuesday. Somewhere between “Who’s bringing the rolls ?” and “Please use the other driveway,” figuring out your dog’s spot slipped off the list.
It doesn’t have to go like this. Friendsgiving with dogs means a bed beside your chair, a quiet room down the hall for when the stories hit full volume, and a spot in the plan from the start.
This year, they’re on the guest list.
Check out our fall-themed dog treat recipes here!
Friendsgiving with Dogs: Give Them a Seat of Their Own
Your dog lives here. They shouldn’t spend Friendsgiving in the corner like they’ve been assigned Saturday detention in The Breakfast Club.
Put their bed or blanket near your chair, where they can stretch out and stay out of the path between the kitchen and the table. Not in the doorway, and not where Tia Donna has to straddle them with a pan of yams.
Make them a place card: “[Dog Name], Guest of Honor.”
Make a Break Room (Not a Time-Out)
Peel the “do not disturb” post-it off the bedroom door. Prop it open and leave a lamp on so it reads as their room and not a punishment. If guests keep wandering back there, a baby gate across the doorway keeps the room theirs. Bed, water, and a chew toy are all they need. A washable bed or blanket that lives in that room year-round already smells like theirs when the doorbell rings, and a white noise machine covers the clatter from the kitchen. The difference is that they decide when to go in and when to come back.
Message Your Friends
“Hey y’all, [Dog Name] is hanging out with us tonight! Please don’t feed them from the table. They have their own plate and are very proud of it. Let them come to you, and if [Dog Name] ditches for the bedroom, don’t chase (it’s how they stay mysterious). That door is theirs. Ear scratches after dinner are fair game.”
When the Doorbell Rings
The first ten minutes are the loudest.
Let the dog say hello from their bed or the end of a leash, and give the first guest a job that isn’t the dog’s face, like taking coats or pouring drinks. Let the dog work out who’s who before the hugging starts.
See our socialization guide here!
What Can Dogs Eat at Thanksgiving?
Your dog has been supervising dinner since the first cabinet opened. When you finally set down their own little plate of turkey and fall sides, they barely wait for you to take your hand away.
They’re getting a taste of what you made, not whatever someone decided to slip them under the table.
Prime Feast Real Estate
- A few small pieces of plain, cooked turkey (no skin, bones, gravy, or mystery seasoning)
- A scoop of plain sweet potato (not the casserole with marshmallows)
- A scattering of plain green beans (not the gooey casserole)
- A beautiful splat of plain canned pumpkin (the can that says pumpkin, not the can that says pie filling)
“Plain” means the kind-of-boring version that sits on the counter before butter, salt, marshmallows, and brown sugar get involved. The chef’s move: scoop the dog’s helpings before the fixin’s go on.
A taste of each, sized to your dog. The whole plate stays a small share of their day’s food, not a second dinner. If your dog has a prescribed diet or a sensitive stomach, stick with their usual food unless their vet approves the extras.
The Plate Hand-Off
Put one person in charge of serving the dog’s plate right after everyone sits. Give the job to the friend who “can’t say no to that face.” That friend gets to feed the dog, and Aunt Nadine’s leftovers stay on the table.
Stick a note on the fridge: “Ask before you feed. [Dog Name] already ate.” It covers the friends who skimmed the group chat.
Leftovers for Breakfast
Save a spoonful from the portion you set aside and use it as a topping for their regular breakfast.
Foods Dogs Can’t Eat at Thanksgiving
Some of your best dishes are staying strictly with the people. Your dog may disagree, but they also tried to eat a napkin.
- The savory side: Onions and garlic in every form, including the stuffing, the gravy, the soup, and the crispy onions on top of the green bean casserole. If it smells like the start of a good gravy, it probably has both.
- The dessert table: Chocolate (yes, the fudge brownies and yes, the chocolate pie), grapes and raisins (the Waldorf salad and the Ambrosia, don’t fight me), and xylitol (found in sugar-free baked goods, mints, and the gum in a guest’s purse).
- The carving station: Cooked bones from the turkey or the ham, plus fatty skin and trimmings. Scrape the platter into a bag, tie it, and send it to the outside trash before the dog finds it.
- The bar and the counter: Alcohol (set the bourbon-spiked sweet tea on a table, not within tongue reach, and that goes for the wine glasses too) and raw yeast dough (like the rolls rising under a towel).
If the dog gets into something, call your vet. Save the number in your phone before the first guest rings the bell and the after-hours one too, since it’s a holiday.
Screenshot this list for the group chat before someone’s “just a little bite” becomes a whole discussion.
Your Dog-Friendly Thanksgiving Run of Show
While you cook: Set aside the dog’s portions before the butter and seasoning go in. Label their bowl and pop it in the fridge. Clear the scraps into a lidded trash can, with the bag tied before it goes outside.
An hour before: Bed by your chair. Bedroom door propped open, lamp on, post-it gone. Candles up high, well clear of a passing tail.
When the first guest arrives: Text already sent. Sweet tea on a table, not the floor.
Right after everyone sits: Your designated person serves the dog’s plate. One dinner service, no unauthorized seconds.
After the first course: Take a lap with a napkin and sweep the floor for anything that missed a mouth.
Dessert: Pumpkin pie well out of reach.
Dog-Friendly Friendsgiving: When a Friend Brings Theirs
You’ve settled the menu, and now somebody wants to know if Waffles can come. Your dog’s opinion is the one to check before you text back “of course.”
Make the plan before the doorbell rings. Have your friend check with you privately, then let the group know what you’ve agreed. If the dogs haven’t met, Friendsgiving doesn’t need to be their introduction. “Let’s do a walk together another weekend” is a perfectly good answer. You’re hosting dinner, not accepting all applicants.
Give the dogs a quieter hello. If the dogs are comfortable together, ask your friend to arrive before the other guests for a short, leashed walk outside. Leave space between the dogs, with no pressure to greet. One introduction at a time, not a welcoming committee on the porch. Keep leashes on at the door and as you head inside, rather than juggling loose dogs while someone holds a hot casserole.
Two dogs, two dinner spots. Ask your friend what Waffles can eat and what’s off-limits before making a plate. The avoid list from above covers both plates. Put the plates down at the same moment, in separate spots with room between them, and pick up both dishes when the dogs are done. Your hand-off person serves your dog, and your friend serves Waffles. Sharing a guest list doesn’t mean sharing everything.
Under the table, your dog has settled with their chin on your friend’s socked foot. The dishwasher is running, and someone is still laughing about a story somebody asked to hear twice.
A serving spoon clinks against a dish on its way to the kitchen. One ear lifts, then settles. Your friend reaches for a glass and leaves the foot exactly where it is.
The talk has slowed, but nobody is reaching for a coat. Under the tablecloth, a long, sleepy sigh.
Meet The Author
Grew up in Maryland, grew up with dogs, and somehow both things have followed me everywhere. Now I live with Duke, a Bichon who has never once done anything he didn’t feel like doing. I don’t write about “dogs.” I write about what it actually is to build your life around a dog. Messy. Hilarious. Gut-wrenching. Joyful. All of it.




