Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
It was at this moment of extreme financial desperation when my mom tactfully informed me that Great Aunt Maizy needed “a little help around the house” and was willing to pay for it.
“Why shouldn’t you help her instead of some person she doesn’t even know?” my mom said. “After all, blood is thicker than water. Think of how grateful she’ll be—she’ll probably put you in her will! You know your Great Uncle left her scads of money!”
Well, my Great Uncle Harold might have left Aunt Maizy a rich woman but as far as I could see, she was spending her fortune as fast as could on truly ridiculous things. Like the crazy wardrobes she kept for her little dogs. I happened to know that the spoiled Pomeranian I was picking up from the groomers had more clothes than I did. She was wearing something new just about every time I saw her and most of her outfits were cuter than mine, too—I mean we’re talking serious doggy haute couture!
Not that I’m some kind of fashion maven—at that point I was lucky to be shopping at Wal-Mart. It seemed like the price of everything had gone through the roof and I was barely scraping by as it was. So I couldn’t exactly afford to say “no” when my Great Aunt asked me to pick up Prissy, even though it wasn’t technically part of my job.
“Of course I’ll get her,” I said into my phone with forced cheerfulness. “But I thought Tuesday was her day at the groomers?” Which was usually good for me, since I only worked for my Aunt on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and tried to get as many hours as possible at the Library all the other days of the week.
“Oh, but today is her big day! Don’t you remember?” Aunt Maizy trilled in my ear. “Today is the day my darling Prissy ties the knot with Mr. Piddlesworth! A match made in Heaven.”
Oh my God… I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. It was a good thing I was on the phone instead of speaking face-to-face with my Aunt so she couldn’t see me.
“That’s right—I totally forgot,” I said. “Today is the day of her, uh, wedding.”
“That’s right! It’s the big day!” Aunt Maizy said again. “And after they’re properly married, Prissy and Mr. Piddlesworth are going to try and have a litter. Won’t that be nice? They both have such excellent bloodlines, you know. Their puppies will be just exquisite.”
“I’m sure they will,” I said, stifling a sigh.
“You know, my friends have been asking me if I was going to breed Princess Prissy for ages now,” my Aunt continued. “Breed her—as if she was a common mutt! I always told them, ‘No indeed! My Prissy shall not have carnal knowledge of any male dog until she is properly wed!’ And then they wanted to know if I would sell her puppies—can you imagine? ‘Of course I’m not going to sell them!’ I said. Why, I shall keep every one of my little darling’s children—no mother should be parted from her child!”
“No, of course not,” I dutifully agreed, though privately I was thinking that her entire house was going to be overrun in very short order. The idea of so many miniature Princess Prissys running around and probably peeing and pooping all over the antique Persian rugs and shiny marble floors was not appealing. Because guess who was going to have to clean it all up? Not to mention that the idea of getting two of her dogs hitched just so they could have a litter was ridiculous!
Now, lest you think I’m being mean about a poor old slightly eccentric woman who just wanted to have a little fun with her doggos, let me tell you that this dog wedding was running somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty grand. That’s right—you heard me. Fifty thousand dollars for a wedding between two dogs.
The dress that Prissy was wearing contributed a lot to that exorbitant price tag—it was a Vera Wang. I mean, I didn’t even know Vera Wang made wedding dresses for dogs, but apparently she had made this one and it had cost a literal fortune.
It was a fluffy confection with a beaded bodice and collar and a long white train with a hole cut in it for the spoiled little dog’s fluffy tail to stick through. There was also a tiara and little white satin slippers to go with it. It was utterly ridiculous and expensive enough that I could have paid the rent on my crappy apartment for a whole year if I had what it cost.
Mr. Piddlesworth’s tux hadn’t been quite as expensive, but it was still more than you’d pay for a human tux by far. (It also had a little black top hat that I had to admit was cute—though it was hard to make him keep it on.)