All the dogs had been given a treat bone to gnaw on to keep them busy—they had been handing them out as favors at the door. So aside from a few scattered barks here and there, it was reasonably quiet and you could hear the string quartet in the corner quite well.
Standing at the front of the room was Minister Toby—a retired Methodist pastor who shared Aunt Maizy’s love for dogs. Sitting at his feet was his American Bulldog, Rufus, who was acting as Mr. Piddlesworth’s best man. I noticed that Rufus had on a little black vest and a bowtie, which he had already drooled all over as he messily chewed his bone.
There were two little white satin cushions in front of the minister and Rufus and this is where I deposited Mr. Piddlesworth and Princess Prissy, hoping they would stay still. I plopped the top hat on Mr. Piddlesworth’s little head, crossed my fingers, and stepped back to the far side of the Blue Room, trying to blend into the deep blue walls with their gilded wainscoting.
For a few minutes, everything seemed to be working beautifully. Aunt Maizy came and stood beside her dogs and the music faded so we could all hear the minister somberly intone,
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join these two canines in holy matrimony. Who gives these dogs to be married?”
“I do!” Aunt Maizy said eagerly. Then she stooped down to give both the “bride” and “groom” a quick pat and went back to sit in the chair that had been reserved for her.
In retrospect, that was a mistake. Maybe if she would have stood right there through the ceremony, she could have stopped what happened next. Of course, I’ll never know that for sure, just as I didn’t know that I was about to be abducted—some things are just mysteries.
Anyway, the minister had barely begun saying,
“Do you, Mister Piddlesworth take Princess Prissy to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold—” when Mr. Piddlesworth lost interest in the treat bone that had been left on his satin pillow to keep him busy and started sniffing Prissy’s ass again.
“Mr. Piddlesworth, no!” Aunt Maizy hissed at him. “No naughty humpies—no!”
But there was no stopping what happened next. Mr. Piddlesworth decided that getting some tail was more interesting than getting married and mounted Prissy right there at the altar.
“No! Oh my God!” Aunt Maizy gasped. “Mrs. Piddlesworth…Prissy…stop that—stop!You two aren’t evenmarriedyet!”
She rushed up and managed to separate the two dogs somehow, but at that point it seemed that Prissy’s scent was getting around the room. As soon as she was free of Mr. Piddlesworth, Rufus, the Minister’s American Bulldog decided to get in on the action.
This made Aunt Maizy nearly apoplectic.
“Princess Prissy!” she screamed at her dog, her face going nearly purple. “You are acting like awhore!Control yourself!”
Naturally, Princess Prissy did no such thing. While the minister was trying to pull his dog off her, she appeared to be having more fun than she ever had in her life—probably because Aunt Maizy had never gotten her bred before, I speculated.
At this point, my Great Aunt started shouting my name.
“Eliza, where are you? Come help me at once!” she screamed.
I ran forward to the front of the room but there was really nothing I could do. It appeared that Rufus and Princess Prissy had “tied” together and there was no getting them apart. So for the next five minutes everyone in the room just sat there watching the huge Bulldog and the tiny, dainty Pomeranian going to town in agonizing silence.
“The puppies! What will the puppies look like?” Aunt Maizy sobbed.
“I’m so sorry!” Minister Toby was trying to apologize, but when he put a hand on her arm, she shook him off angrily.
“Your brute of a dog isattackingmy Prissy!” she hissed at him. “I don’t knowhowI ever thought you were a good man!”
“Well, he’s just doing what comes, er, naturally,” the befuddled pastor protested.
“It’snot right!”Aunt Maizy exclaimed. “And now Prissy’s puppies will be ruined—just ruined! Who’s going to want a Bulleranian? Or a Pom-Bull? They’ll behideous!”
Finally, the two dogs separated but it was unclear if we were going to go on with the ceremony or not. After all, the bride had just cheated on her husband with the best man in front of the whole wedding party. What else could possibly go wrong?
I got my answer just a moment later when Prissy lifted her tail and made the most amazing mess of doggy diarrhea I had ever seen. And let me tell you, since coming to work for my Great Aunt, I had seen alot.
Too late, I remembered the groomer at Pawfectionist saying she thought maybe Prissy had eaten something that upset her stomach.
Oh no—maybe I should have said something!I thought.
But really, I doubted my Aunt would have called off the wedding even if Ihadpassed this information on to her. She’d been planning it for months and everyone on the guest list had already RSVPed. She wouldn’t have wanted to reschedule Princess Prissy’s “big day” for a bit of tummy trouble.
Well—maybe it was more than “a bit.” You wouldn’t believe such a little dog could make such a big mess, but Prissy certainly did. The poop went all over the back of her expensive gown—some rolling down the train and some falling through the tail hole to the expensive antique Persian carpet below.