The Wedding

It was hot. The humidity rose in a thick curtain from the field between the stone rows. The wedding guests shifted restlessly trying to unstick themselves from their white plastic folding chairs and gazed enviously at the single oak tree that dappled the wedding party with a bit of shade. The guests soft pine path had claimed a few high heeled shoes which were now kicked beneath the seats. One grandmother had to be carried down like a flower sack after her walker lodged under a pine root. Bridesmaids struggled to resist using their bouquets to swat at the gnats and mosquitoes clouded around the bridesmaids’ bare shoulders.

The nearby fire pond lay parched and cracked by a dry summer, but mosquitoes don’t need much, and what the pond lacked in water, it made up for in mud and thick green algae.

The guests fidgeted and leaned forward, straining to hear the vows over the steady murmur of wind in the trees and the nearby brook. The bride and groom had mimed their way through the welcome ceremony when the first dog appeared. There were two. Large Labradors, named Beetle and Juice, originally brown and black, but it was hard to tell because they had discovered the fire pond. The groom’s soon to be ex-best friend had thought it was a good idea to bring his dogs to share in the celebration. A wedding in a field at a farm is, after all, a perfect place for dogs.

Beetle’s first pass was a perfect strafing run down the front row of guests. About a hundred pounds of dog and fifty pounds of splattering mud and slime. People leaped to their feet in an undulating horrified wave as he passed spraying muck. There were shouts, screams, chairs flying. Juice followed hot on his heels mopping up anybody that Beetle might have missed. Excited by the commotion, Beetle cut a quick circle for a second pass. One stone faced woman glared at Beetle, planted her feet, and drew back a her cane to give him a good whack, but she put a little too much effort on the backswing, lost her footing and went over in a flurry of kicking feet.

Juice, right on Beetle’s heels and not wanting to miss the fun, jigged right to avoid a tossed high heel shoe and slammed straight into bridesmaid number one. Juice was the smaller dog, but 80 pounds of exuberant canine at flanking speed will flat take you off your feet. Especially if your four inch heels are stuck like tent stakes into the dirt. Bridesmaid number one was airborn and shoeless when she smacked into bridesmaid number two, and they went down like dominoes. The groom snatched his gaping bride aside just in time, like a true hero, right into the minister who was trying to occupy that same space. The table went over, rings, wine glasses and all. It took a full half hour to find the rings.

The bride’s father headed up the path stiff-legged and head down probably going for the Mossberg 12 gauge in his trunk. The genius who brought the dogs disappeared through a barbed wire fence because as any dog owner knows, they will give you up.