““Absolutely no rodents in the wedding,” he said. Nick’s lips were twitching. “This was Dyce’s mom’s idea, wasn’t it?” “Uh, yeah.” “Ben! They’d eat the tuxes. Also, have you considered rat poo—” “Right,” Ben said. “Okay. Okay. No rats.” “And no best cat, either. Nick is my best man, and we don’t need a best cat.” “But Peesgrass wants to come!” E said. He’d retrieved Pythagoras from wherever the cat had been sunning himself and was holding him clutched to his chest. Pythagoras’s little cross-eyed... face stared at us in acute embarrassment, whether at his position or at the idea of being in the wedding, I couldn’t tell. “They make harness leashes for cats,” Nick said. “I’ll look after him. He’s already black; all we need is to attach a little white tie to his collar,” he said. I didn’t say anything. If the cat died of embarrassment, the SPCA would be all over us. I thought lovingly about the table in my shed and wished I could go back there and work.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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