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)
“Well, here she is!” The groomer gave me another nervous smile. “And please tell Miss Maizy that we hope she enjoys her big day!”
“I will,” I said, smiling back as I took the handle of the carrier from her.
I brought the carrier out to my car and then looked inside to see if I could tell if something was wrong with Prissy. But it was impossible to tell—she only bared her teeth and growled at me, which was her usual greeting for everyone but my Aunt.
“Well, okay—nice to see you, too,” I told her as I put her carefully in the passenger floorboard. She was so light I didn’t want to put her on the seat—if I stopped suddenly she would have gone flying!
My answer was more yipping and growling so I shrugged and drove back to Great Aunt Maizy’s house.
My Aunt’s house was at the far end of her neighborhood and was located past a set of tall wrought iron gates and down a long, curving drive. I pressed the code to get in and waited while the gates swung open with Prissy growling all the way.
When I finally got to the end of the drive, I found that the whole place was in a state of barely-controlled chaos. Doggy caterers from The Pampered Pooch were running back and forth, there were bunches of gold and silver balloons tied all over, and a valet attendant was parking cars for the guests—which consisted of other wealthy dog owners and their dogs.
I saw several of them walking on the lush green lawn already, the dogs making each other’s acquaintance by sniffing butts while the owners—who were actually dressed in long, fancy gowns and tuxes like you would wear for a formal human wedding—were nodding and smiling and making small talk.
I navigated through to the curving driveway that led to the back of the house and brought Princess Prissy in that way. It was better to try and keep her calm—she was a high-strung dog and was prone to puking if she got too excited.
Great Aunt Maizy met me at the back door as though she’d been waiting for me. She was a tall, statuesque woman with iron-gray hair done up in an elaborate coif at the top of her head. At the moment, she was dressed like an extra from Titanic in a cream lace and silk dress and a long rope of real pearls dangling almost to her waist. Actually, this wasn’t far off from her usual style of dress—she had an entire vintage wardrobe which she loved showing off.
“Oh Eliza!” she exclaimed, emphasizing the middle part of my name as she always did when she got upset or excited. “There you are at last! Whatever took you so long?”
I wanted to point out that if she’d use a dog groomer closer to the house instead of one that was way across town, it would be a faster trip. But there was no point in arguing with Aunt Maizy about anything because she was one of those people who was always right—even when they’re wrong. So I just shrugged and said,
“Sorry—there was traffic.”
She fluttered her hands some more—she was wearing white satin gloves with pearl buttons that went all the way up to her elbows—and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Very well—there’s still time if we hurry, I think. We must get Princess Prissy into her wedding dress! Oh, and Mr. Piddlesworth must get into his tux as well.”
“Oh—of course,” I said, without enthusiasm. Mr. Piddlesworth wasn’t too bad and would generally keep his clothes on. Well, except for the top hat, as I said earlier. But Princess Prissy hated wearing clothes—she always snapped and snarled when I was putting them on her.
To be honest, I kind of agreed with the little Pomeranian on that point. I mean, clothes on a pet just look silly, right? I had no idea how soon I would come to change my mind about that, but at the moment I was blissfully ignorant of my eventual fate. So I simply nodded and carried Prissy—still in her carrier—into the dressing room.
The dressing room was a walk-in closet bigger than my whole bedroom. It had rows and rows of doggy outfits hanging from itty-bitty hangers and wall to ceiling mirrors so the dogs could admire their reflections once they were dressed.
I knew this room well—part of my duties was helping my Great Aunt get her “babies” dressed on the days I worked for her. Aunt Maizy didn’t just dress her dogs for special occasions like Halloween and Christmas—she wanted them looking “perfectly presentable” as she put it, every single day. Have I mentioned she had seven “babies?” Well, she did. And let me tell you, that’s a lot of squirming, wiggling dogs to get in and out of designer outfits on a daily basis.