{"id":111,"date":"2025-12-03T16:11:48","date_gmt":"2025-12-03T16:11:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/?p=111"},"modified":"2025-12-03T16:11:50","modified_gmt":"2025-12-03T16:11:50","slug":"my-mil-stole-my-entire-thanksgiving-dinner-to-impress-her-new-boyfriend-she-didnt-expect-karma-to-punish-her","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/?p=111","title":{"rendered":"My MIL Stole My Entire Thanksgiving Dinner to Impress Her New Boyfriend \u2013 She Didn’t Expect Karma to Punish Her"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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I thought the worst thing my mother-in-law ever did was sneak a turkey leg into her purse on Thanksgiving. This year, she walked into my house in stilettos, walked out with my entire Thanksgiving dinner, and somehow still managed to blame me for what happened next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I’m the kind of person who waits for Thanksgiving like kids wait for Christmas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Every year, the Friday before Thanksgiving, I pull out my grandmother’s recipe cards.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Some people get excited for summer or their birthdays. I get excited for turkey and mashed potatoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every year, the Friday before Thanksgiving, I pull out my grandmother’s recipe cards. They’re yellowed and bent and stained with grease, and her handwriting leans a little to the right. Just seeing them makes my chest feel warm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I buy real butter. None of the cheap stuff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I roast garlic for my mashed potatoes until the whole house smells like an Italian restaurant. I brine the turkey for twenty-four hours like I’m trying to impress the Food Network judges. I bake pies the night before so they set just right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thanksgiving is my joy. My connection to my grandma. My comfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The first time, she took a tray of stuffing.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

My MIL, Elaine?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To her, Thanksgiving is a photo op.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She loves designer heels. Salon blowouts. Filters. Whatever new boyfriend she’s dating for the season. She never cooked a full meal in her life unless you count microwaving Lean Cuisines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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For the last few years, she’s had this cute little habit of “dropping by” before dinner and leaving with my food.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first time, she took a tray of stuffing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Sweetheart, you made so much,” she’d said, already wrapping it in foil. “You won’t even miss it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Last year, she slipped a turkey leg into her purse.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The next year, it was a whole pumpkin pie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The girls at book club will just die over this,” she’d chirped, already halfway to the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Last year, she slipped a turkey leg into her purse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“One little turkey leg,” she’d said. “You won’t even notice.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric, my husband, would get mad for about five minutes, then say, “It’s just food, babe, let it go. She’s just like that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I let it go. But I never forgot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This year, I decided my Thanksgiving was going to be perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Tuesday was pies, casseroles, sweet potato mash.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I started on Monday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Monday was pie crusts and pumpkin puree. Flour on my shirt, flour in my hair. My grandma’s sunflower apron tied around my waist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tuesday was pies, casseroles, sweet potato mash. I played 90s music and sang into a whisk. My daughter Lily danced around me while my son Max pretended to be “too cool” but still stole spoonfuls of filling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wednesday was chopping, slicing, brining, marinating. I scrubbed out a cooler in the bathtub just to fit the turkey and brine. The turkey looked like it was taking a spa day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Thursday morning, I could’ve fallen over from exhaustion, but the house smelled like heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By 4 p.m., everything was done.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Butter. Garlic. Herbs. Roasting turkey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The turkey was in the oven at 8 a.m. sharp. I mashed potatoes with roasted garlic and heavy cream. I whisked gravy until my wrist hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 4 p.m., everything was done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The table looked like something from a HomeGoods commercial. White tablecloth. Cloth napkins. The good plates. Little place cards with everyone’s names that Lily drew with crayons and tiny turkeys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just stood there, looking at it all, and felt that deep, warm satisfaction you get when your hard work actually looks like you imagined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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For a moment, everything felt perfect.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“You outdid yourself this year, babe,” he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a moment, everything felt perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We called the kids.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hands washed, butts in chairs!” I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were actually excited, which, if you have kids, you know is rare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We all sat down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked up my fork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“My new man is expecting a home-cooked dinner.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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And that’s when the front door slammed open so hard my fork bounced off my plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Elaine’s voice cracked through the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She marched in like she owned the place. Red lipstick. Fresh blowout. Tight dress. High heels clicking like a horse trotting through my hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Elaine?” I said. “What are you\u2014”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn’t answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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She was already lifting the turkey off the table.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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She walked straight past the dining room to my kitchen. She opened my cabinet, pulled out my brand-new Tupperware set I’d bought for leftovers, and started snapping containers apart like she’d been planning this all week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mom?” Eric said, standing up. “What are you doing?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was already lifting the turkey off the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I need this,” she said, like it was obvious. “My new man is expecting a home-cooked dinner. I didn’t have time. The salon ran late.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said “salon” like it was a medical emergency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Don’t be stingy.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“Elaine, stop,” I said. “We’re about to eat. That’s our dinner.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She rolled her eyes and started shoveling stuffing into a big container.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Don’t be stingy,” she said. “You have plenty. You’re so good at this. Share the wealth.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt my face go hot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mom, what the hell?” Eric snapped. “Put it back.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’ll still have something,” she said. “Look at all this. You don’t need all of it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She grabbed the mashed potatoes next. Then the gravy. Then the green bean casserole. Cranberry sauce. Mac ‘n’ cheese. Cornbread.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Put the turkey down.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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If it wasn’t nailed down, it was going into a container.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily whispered, “Mom?” from the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Max just stared, eyes huge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I followed Elaine into the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Elaine, that’s enough,” I said, stepping between her and the stove. “Put the turkey down. You can’t take our entire dinner.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She froze for a second and gave me a tight, fake smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Sweetheart,” she said, voice dripping sugar. “You should be thankful people admire your cooking. This is a compliment.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Stop. You’re taking everything.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“This is theft,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shrugged, picked up the turkey anyway, and dumped it into the biggest container.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt something inside me crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mom, I’m serious,” Eric said, coming in behind me. “Stop. You’re taking everything.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh my God, Eric, don’t be dramatic,” she said. “You’re not five. You don’t need a big fancy dinner to feel loved.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She snapped the lids on. Each click sounded like a door slamming shut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stacked the containers into reusable grocery bags she’d brought with her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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She drove away with my entire Thanksgiving dinner.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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She’d planned this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hauled the bags to the front door. We followed her like stunned ducks. She opened her trunk, stuffed everything in, then turned and smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You should really be grateful,” she said to me. “This means your food is in demand.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she got in her car, shut the door, and drove away with my entire Thanksgiving dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The house went silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The table was still set. Candles lit. Napkins folded. Platters empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the counter with both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“I spent four days on that.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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My body shook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn’t cry right away. It was like my brain couldn’t process it yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric came in and put his hand on my back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Babe\u2026 don’t cry,” he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a sob.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I spent four days on that,” I said. “Four days. She just\u2026 took it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We had frozen pizza in the freezer.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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The kids hovered in the doorway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Are we\u2026 not having Thanksgiving?” Max asked quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart broke a little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We’re still having Thanksgiving,” I said, forcing my voice to sound cheerful. “It’s just going to look different.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had frozen pizza in the freezer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled it out, still shaking, and turned on the oven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily tugged my sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We ate frozen pizza at my carefully set Thanksgiving table.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“Why did Grandma take our food?” she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because she’s selfish. Because she thinks everything is hers. Because no one ever told her no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Sometimes,” I said instead, “people care more about themselves than anyone else. But that’s their problem. Not yours.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We ate frozen pizza at my carefully set Thanksgiving table. Candles. Place cards. Cloth napkins. And a greasy cardboard box in the middle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to make jokes. The kids laughed a little. Eric kept saying, “This is temporary, okay? We’ll fix it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside, I felt empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“You ruined everything!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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After dinner, the kids went to play video games. I was loading the dishwasher with our pizza-stained plates when Eric’s phone started ringing on the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He checked the screen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“It’s her,” he said flatly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a deep breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Put it on speaker,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hello?” he answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“HOW COULD YOU LET ME DO THIS?!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“ERIC!!!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We both winced. Elaine’s voice screeched through the kitchen. Even the cat ran out of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What happened, Mom?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“HOW COULD YOU LET ME DO THIS?!” she shrieked. “You ruined everything!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I frowned. “What?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“His dinner!” she wailed. “His PERFECT Thanksgiving dinner!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Whose dinner?” Eric asked. “Your boyfriend’s?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“He looked at me like I’d brought a corpse to his house!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“Yes!” she said. “And now he thinks I’m insane! He thinks I lied to him!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I raised my eyebrows. I wonder why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What happened?” Eric said, too calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elaine sucked in a dramatic breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He’s a vegan!” she cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric blinked. “What?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A VEGAN, ERIC!” she screamed. “I totally forgot! I showed up with a whole turkey. A whole spread. Meat, butter, cheese, everything! He looked at me like I’d brought a corpse to his house!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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He said I was disrespectful and performative.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And then,” she continued, “I was carrying your wife’s stupid turkey to the table when the bottom of the container gave out. It just exploded! Turkey juice all over the floor. The dog was licking gravy off my shoes. I slipped in the mashed potatoes!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I lost it. I started laughing silently, tears streaming down my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric was biting his lip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And then,” she said, voice wobbling, “he looks at me and goes, ‘Elaine, you know I’m vegan.’ Like I didn’t just spend weeks listening to him talk about tofu. He said I was disrespectful and performative. PERFORMATIVE.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“And then he told me to leave!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Eric finally said, “So, let me make sure I understand. You stole our whole Thanksgiving, tried to pass it off as yours, forgot he was vegan, and then dumped it all over his floor.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“When you say it like that, it sounds bad,” she snapped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How else is there to say it?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And then he told me to leave!” she wailed. “Said not to call him again until I ‘learn how to be honest with myself.’ He broke up with me ON THANKSGIVING. In front of his friends!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“You set me up!”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Then she added, furious, “THIS IS ALL HER FAULT!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“My\u2026 fault?” I said before I could stop myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes, YOU,” she shouted. “If you didn’t cook so much, he would’ve believed I made it! If you weren’t such a show-off in the kitchen, I wouldn’t have needed to take it. You set me up!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And with that, she hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The call ended with a beep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric and I just stared at each other for a second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“She really said this is your fault.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Then we both burst into hysterical laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We slid down the cabinets and sat on the floor, laughing until our sides hurt. Not because it was actually funny. Because the whole thing was so insane that our brains didn’t know what else to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we finally calmed down, Eric wiped his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“She really said this is your fault,” he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Of course she did,” I said. “She lives in delusion.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His face changed. He went from amused to exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“We’re going out.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“I’m done,” he said quietly. “I’m so done making excuses for her.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood up and held out his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Come on,” he said. “Shoes. Kids! Shoes on. We’re going out.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Out where?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’ll see,” he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We got the kids in coats and piled into the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He drove downtown. Most places were closed and dark, but one restaurant still had warm lights glowing and a little sign that said, “Thanksgiving Prix Fixe.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“And you’re not cooking another thing today.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“Eric, this place is fancy,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“So are you,” he said. “And you’re not cooking another thing today.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We went inside. The hostess smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said. “We have a few spots left for the holiday menu, if you’re okay with that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That sounds perfect,” Eric said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They sat us at a small table with a candle. Soft music played. People talked in low voices. No one was screaming about vegans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They brought warm rolls and butter. Then salad. Then plates with turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and green beans, all pretty and neat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“We should come here every year.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I took a bite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn’t my food. It wasn’t my grandma’s recipes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it was good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily leaned over her plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“This is the best Thanksgiving,” she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Max nodded with his mouth full. “We should come here every year.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eric looked at me over the candle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“I didn’t get it before.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“I’m writing that down,” he joked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We ate. We talked. We shared dessert. At one point, Eric reached across the table, took my hand, and squeezed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t get it before. I kept thinking, ‘It’s just food.’ But it’s not just food. This is your thing. Your love language. And she stomped all over it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My eyes stung.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I let her get away with little things because she’s my mom,” he said. “I shouldn’t have. I see that now.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I nodded, because I didn’t trust my voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I wasn’t going to play along with her anymore.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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When we got home, we changed into pajamas and watched a movie. The kids fell asleep halfway through, curled under blankets on the couch. Eric and I sat together in the quiet glow of the TV and the Christmas lights we’d already put up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My Thanksgiving wasn’t what I’d planned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But somewhere between the frozen pizza, the meltdown phone call, and that candlelit table at the restaurant, something shifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn’t going to play along with her anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next couple of weeks were quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No surprise visits. No passive-aggressive texts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“You owe me an apology.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Then one morning, while I was making school lunches, my phone buzzed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a text from Elaine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You owe me an apology,” it said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at it for a full 10 seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Eric?” I called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He walked into the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What’s up?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“What do you want to do?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I handed him the phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He read it, sighed, and gave me this look that said he was very, very done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What do you want to do?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a deep breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m done,” I said. “I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to see her. Not until she understands what she did and apologizes like a grown adult.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“And if she shows up here, I’ll handle it.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took my phone, blocked her number, and handed it back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Already blocked her on mine,” he said. “And if she shows up here, I’ll handle it. Not you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christmas Eve rolled around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We stayed home. Just us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I made hot cocoa on the stove, old-school style, with real milk and cocoa powder. I piled whipped cream on top and sprinkled a little cinnamon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“And you always give.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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We curled up on the couch with blankets and watched “The Grinch.” The kids bickered about which version was better. The tree lights reflected in the window. It started snowing outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Halfway through the movie, Eric squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You know,” he said, “Mom always takes.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And you always give,” he said. “You give time, food, your energy, your patience. This year, you gave us Thanksgiving. She stole it. But karma gave it right back.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“No more pretending she’s just ‘a little much.'”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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He smiled a little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I hate that it happened,” he said, “but I’m glad I finally saw it. For real. No more pretending she’s just ‘a little much.'”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Next year,” he said, “Thanksgiving is just us. Whatever you want. We go out, we stay in, you make a feast, we order Chinese, I don’t care. But your cooking? Your effort? That’s only for people who deserve it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I leaned into him and watched our kids laugh at the TV.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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This Thanksgiving, I learned something I didn’t expect.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This Thanksgiving, I learned something I didn’t expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some people think that taking from others makes them powerful. Like if they take what you love, they win.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But nothing \u2014 and I mean nothing \u2014 tastes better than watching karma serve it back to them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With gravy on top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If this happened to you, what would you do? We\u2019d love to hear your thoughts in the Facebook comments.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you enjoyed this, here’s another story<\/a> about a man who took the day off to cook Thanksgiving dinner, but what his wife saw on the kitchen camera turned the day on its head.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I thought the worst thing my mother-in-law ever did was sneak a turkey leg into her purse on Thanksgiving. This year, she walked into my […]<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":122,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorised"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=111"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":123,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions\/123"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/122"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=111"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=111"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/weheartanimals.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=111"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}