THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 28, 1996 TAG: 9607280101
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Paul South
LENGTH: 69 lines
Summer is a time for weddings. Every newsstand in America is bursting with brides. Even Popular Mechanics, I'm sure, has an issue called ``Tool Sets for Newlyweds.''
But in 39 years on the planet, I've never seen a wedding magazine that deals with the burning nuptial issue of ``What to do When a Beagle Crashes Your Wedding.''
Miss Manners teaches us how to deal with unruly relatives. You know, like Uncle Billy Joe Ray Bob, who still wears his powder-blue leisure suit from the '70s, the one with the pants that hit him above the ankles to expose his white socks and matching patent-leather shoes. He's the one who sneaks some homemade white lightning into the sherbet punch, and screams for the band to play ``Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother.''
But enough about my family.
What brings us to this dog dilemma is something that happened last September. I was dog-sitting my part-time beagle, Bailey, at his home in Portsmouth. It was a warm Saturday afternoon. Tennessee and Florida were tangling on TV.
At the half, I decided to take Bailey, then three months old, out to do his business. On previous trips, he stayed within the confines of the backyard, and paid no mind to the black wrought-iron gate with small openings between the bars, a space just large enough to allow an economy-sized pooch to slip through.
But this trip was another story.
Bailey sniffed around the rosebushes, stopped, and looked up the street. Before I could react, he was through the gate, dashing up the street toward one of Portsmouth's busiest thoroughfares, London Boulevard.
My mind was racing with one horrific thought:
Beagle meets Buick. Beagle loses.
I ran to the gate but couldn't open it. I dashed back through the house and out the front door, only to see Bailey running up the steps of St. John's Episcopal Church.
Thank God. A devout dog. An Episcopalian Beagle.
As I neared the church, I saw what attracted his attention: A beautiful bride and a bevy of bridesmaids, about to walk down the aisle.
Bailey was a member of the wedding.
At least he was wearing a collar, I thought. And his black-and-white white fur didn't clash.
``I'm sorry,'' I said, my face washed in the red of embarrassment. ``Could you grab that dog?''
The father of the bride, dressed to the nines in tie and tails, scooped up the tiny dog, and cradled him in his arms.
My mind struggled for just the right words. Something intelligent. Witty. Anything to take the edge off the awkward moment.
``So, your daughter's getting married.''
What a genius.
The proud papa walked, beagle in tow, back to Bailey's house. For a man about to give away his daughter, he was remarkably cool.
Once the beagle was safe inside, I shook hands with the father.
``You can bring your dog to my wedding,'' I said.
``It's a deal,'' he said, and was off to give away the bride.
After a while, the embarrassment ebbed. And I imagined that 40 years from now, the aging couple would tell their grandchildren the story of the beagle at the wedding. The kids will laugh. And the couple will smile at the remembrance.
There may not be a heavy moral in this story. And Ann Landers may not address this in a column.
But my guess is, the father may agree with me on this point about wedding crashers:
Better a beagle than Uncle Billy Joe Ray Bob. by CNB