Two Wedding Toasts

Sentiments from your pets-in-law

Breanna Vick

Breanna Vick

Wedding receptions are full of toasts and roasts, but why are we letting only our friends and family give them? Your pets have been with you from day one of coupledom, so let’s raise a glass and hear what they have to say.

So the lovebirds are getting married, and since I’m being forced to convey my feelings on their relationship, I have only one word to describe the pair: insufferable. My life used to be all catnip and rainbows, from Fancy Feast in the morning to that very amusing stick with the feather at night. However, everything changed as soon as this guy walked in the door. Sure, Jenny had other guys in her life before, but all I had to do was show my fangs, and let out a guttural hiss, and they wouldn’t come back. They were respectable young men who could take a hint. Trevor, however, is a different story. No matter how many distasteful stares from across the room I gave him, or how many times I scared him in the middle of the night with my covert stealthiness, or how often I pictured his face on my scratching post, the ignorant fool wouldn’t take a hike back to the litterbox he came from.

I remember the first night he walked in. I could smell the cheap cologne two rooms away. I sauntered out to see who had so rudely interrupted my catnap and intruded into my domain. There he stood at the front door, a dozen roses in hand and a smile that practically tattooed ‘I’m trying too hard’ in bold letters on his forehead. To my dismay, Jenny welcomed him in, and he’s been a thorn in my tail-side ever since. He’s always trying to scratch my ears with the sandpaper mallets he has for hands. He brings me knock-off brand cardboard bites for treats; the worst is the fake catnip. I mean come on, I can’t get my fix from something that comes in a can. And the worst thing about Trevor? Not only does the overgrown mutt claim my side of the bed, he sleeps as if he swallowed a vacuum cleaner. I don’t know what I’m going to do now that his stay is permanent, but all I can ask for is that I go deaf with old age. Honestly, the only good thing about Trevor is that when he leaves, he sometimes takes the dog with him.

Here’s to hopefully getting a bigger cat bed out of this.

 

——————————————————————————————————————–

 

Over the years, Jenny brought home a handful of people. Some smelled like bacon, some smelled like they bathed in Axe, and my particular favorites smelled like lady dogs. However, the first day I met Trevor, he didn’t hold the promising scent of a glossy Golden Retriever or a spritely Labrador. He smelled like a park. The moment I caught a whiff of him, I sprinted toward him, tripping over the cat, jumping, bounding. “Ponds? Food trucks? People?” My nose went into overdrive, combing through the flavors of rabbit, dandelion, bike tires, all of it. Worming my muzzle into his pant leg, I may have drooled a bit over his shoes. They smelled like goose poop, but I don’t think Jenny noticed.

I wanted to know which park he had visited, how many squirrels he had seen, how many sandwiches were left on the ground. But then he started to rub the fur underneath my belly. And, well, who could resist that? I rolled over, my jowls flapped back, my stubby legs kicking in the air when he found the sweet spot. Park forgotten, simple as that.

I followed Trevor around for the rest of the night, learning more about him with every sniff. Cologne? Check. It made me sneeze. Other pets? No go. My favorite moment was when I went on a hunt for his jacket. He tried to hide the jacket in the closet, but even with the door shut, the aroma of Taco John’s led me straight to it. Jenny started coming home smelling like churros every Monday, and she always gave me the last bite. I made sure to wag my tail extra hard so she knew I liked them. Thwap, thwap, thwap.

That cinnamon sugar, though. Pretty soon the churro dates were so often, I thought the mixture had coated my nasal cavities. All the pastry nibbles began to make me “pleasantly plump,” so she stopped the food tribute and started taking me and her taco-happy boyfriend on walks instead. But that’s okay. Now I’m exploring parks and not apartments to smell all the commotion, and every time I set my nose on Trevor (and get past that fast food smell), I remember the memories from our walks.

So to Jenny and Trevor: may you create many more memories.