I restrained myself from glaring up at her.
“I’m doing my best,” I said shortly. “I—ouch!She bit me!”
“Oh—are you bleeding?” Great Aunt Maizy exclaimed, a worried look on her face.
I looked at my finger.
“No—she didn’t break the skin.”
“Oh,good!”My Aunt breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you’d get blood on the gown.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, going back to the struggle of getting Princess Prissy into her dress. “It’s not like ithurtsme to get bitten or anything.”
“You have to forgive Princess Prissy—she’s just so anxious for her big day! You can’t blame her for being a bit high-spirited!” Aunt Maizy exclaimed, defending her dog.
I certainlycouldblame her, but I didn’t say it out loud. I just kept working grimly and eventually I got the little dog into her expensive gown. I even got the tiara on her head, but there was no way she was wearing the little white satin shoes. She ran away and pulled them off with her teeth as soon as I put them on. Then I had to catch her and put them on again—with the same result.
About the fourth time we had repeated this process, Great Aunt Maizy finally blew out her breath impatiently.
“Honestly, Eliza, can’t you doanythingcorrectly?” she demanded, glaring down at me.
I looked up at her, trying to control my irritation.
“I’m putting the shoes on her,” I pointed out. “I just can’t stop her from taking them off. Unless you want her to wear some kind of muzzle?”
“Muzzle her on her big day? Heaven forbid!” Great Aunt Maizy put a gloved hand to her heaving bosom as though I had suggested something sacrilegious.
“She might bite someone in the mood she’s in,” I pointed out, as I grimly struggled to get the shoes back on Prissy again. “What if she nips the minister?” (Who was a person, by the way,nota dog—though hewasgoing to have his pet Bulldog, Rufus, with him while he preformed the ceremony.)
“Princess Prissy wouldneverdo such a thing! She hasperfectmanners!” my Aunt exclaimed, as her “perfect princess” pulled the tiny satin shoes of her paws for the fifth time. “Oh, just leave them off!” she added, a look of disgust coming over her face as she looked down her Aquiline nose at me. “No one can tell she’s barefoot with the dress on, anyway!”
Feeling relieved, I sat Prissy down and watched her tear around the room with the long gown trailing behind her. Her little white tail was sticking out of it and waving like a flag through the hole in the dress that had been put there for that purpose. The hole was kind of big, I saw—it sagged down in the back, showing her fluffy behind.
I really hoped Great Aunt Maizy didn’t notice this detail and demand that I pull out a needle and thread and play seamstress—I didn’t know the first thing about sewing.
Mr. Piddlesworth certainly noticed it. He came sniffing eagerly at Princess Prissy’s behind, making short, excited barks.
“Now, Mr. Piddlesworth!” Great Aunt Maizy exclaimed, frowning. “No naughty humpies untilafteryou two are married!” She sighed pensively. “I hope I did the right thing, scheduling the ceremony during Princess Prissy’s heat. But you know, I wanted them to have aproperhoneymoon!”
“Hmmm,” I said neutrally—which was something I said a lot in response to my Great Aunt’s more eccentric remarks.
“Maybe we should sew that up so he can’t get to her littlehoo-hah—” she said, still looking at the tail hole in the dress. “I mean, it would be dreadful if the two of them were to consummate the marriagebeforeMinister Toby pronounces them man and wife!”
I was about to explain about my non-existent sewing skills when luckily, just at that moment, we heard the strains ofPachelbel’s Cannonbeginning. It was being played by the expensive string quartet my Aunt had arranged for the ceremony—clearly it was about to start, so there was no time for anything else.
“Oh! They’re starting!” Aunt Maizy exclaimed. “Wemustget the little darlings in place!”
This was my cue to tuck one dog under each arm and head for the door with my Aunt following and complaining under her breath that I should have dressed “more appropriately.”
I said nothing about this—I didn’t care if I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt while everyone else was in formal wear. I wasn’t part of this ridiculous wedding—I was just the behind the scenes help. Besides, who’s going to be looking at the plain curvy girl with her hair in a messy ponytail when there’s a purebred Baby Doll Pomeranian dressed in a Vera Wang wedding dress to see?
I had no idea that someone was watching me at that very moment—or that my time left on Earth was rapidly counting down to the last few minutes. I just followed my Great Aunt to the “Blue Room” where the ceremony was being held.
The guests were already seated in two sections of chairs with a long white satin runner between them. I counted at least twenty of them and they all had their dogs on their laps or sitting in chairs beside them on cushions.
Aunt Maizy only liked little dogs and there were plenty of those, but just about every breed was also accounted for in the room. I saw an Afghan, a Belgian Malinois, a Tibetan Mastiff, a Samoyed, and even a Pharaoh Hound which probably cost a crazy amount. (Working for my Aunt, I had really gotten to know the different dog breeds.)
In front of the guests chairs were five little cushions arranged in a row—two on one side and three on the other. This is where the rest of my Aunt’s dogs were sitting. All of them were Pomeranians, because that was her “preferred breed,” except forMousierChien, her single French Bulldog.