I fear these long, cold winter days are turning me into a pug in his dotage, one who spends much time dwelling on past events and memories. A particular memory is of my mom’s wedding, two and a half years ago. She was married at the home of my grandparents on Cape Cod. It was a beautiful August night and the ceremony was at the beach with a reception outdoors at their home. Now I wouldn’t want any of you readers to think I am a sentimental fool, because I am not. My memories naturally go to the food that was served and the catering prep going on in the kitchen. It was truly a golden opportunity for a clever pug. With all the comings and goings of people, flowers being arranged, tables laid, and caterers preparing and setting up food, it was extremely easy for me to assist in the kitchen. I was very helpful and made sure to stay close to the chef (read glued). While everyone else was fussing over Mom, I was busily employed in the best way I knew.
What I didn’t realize, and this is where the story takes a decidedly less desirable turn, was that I had a particular role in the ceremony. Grandma drove me to the beach, since Mom and Grandpa came later, and then she attached this ridiculous little lace pillow-like contraption to the top of my halter. Tied to it were the two wedding rings. That’s right, dear reader, I was the ring bearer. At this point I was of two minds: I wanted to be a part of Mom’s day, to stand by her side loyally but I certainly did not like wearing this froufrou nonsense. What to do? Well, I just pretended it wasn’t there and stuck close to my mom’s ankles, reciting like a mantra that there would good snacks back at the house if I behaved.
And yes, my mom was beautiful and my dad very handsome. I know people thought I rocked the rings but believe me, I will never do that again! The food was extraordinary and since it was served outdoors at various stations, I sampled as much as I could as a free-ranging pug.
I’ve included some photos so you can see how faithfully I performed my duties.