Last week my step-granddaughter was married in my back yard. Her name is Megan which seems to make her a natural soul mate to my Madigan. Needless to say Madigan was a guest. It is after all his back yard.
Mindful of Madigan's propensity to chase any form of wild life specimen entering his territory,I kept him securely on a leash or confined to the house. It was partially successful. Partially-- for in the middle of the solemn exchanges of vows he decided to serenade us with his best Beagle baying. Father of the bride hastened to escort him into the house, out of sound and sight.
During the lawn reception Madigan was safely either secured with his leash or inside the house. When inside he was acutely observant of activity at the door. I, by the same token, was equally observant, on the guard of the door which time and time again was opened by toilet visitors. All was going well.
The on-the leash time near the food was another matter. Madigan managed to con one or another of the guests out of a hot dog. Three that I know of-- maybe some I did not see. And why not. He was after all the smallest and cutest guest.
At the end of the festivities guests, bride and groom, left. I feeling little pain after the good food, the wine and beer settled down with a tired dog for a long deserved rest. Alas after Madigan's hotdogs revisited us, I carefully cleaned up the mess and fell onto my sofa. Madigan curled up beside me, calm to rest his head on my lap as I read my novel.
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