Connie Bensley


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Of course the bride’s dog came to the wedding

and was allotted a chair at the top table

at which he sat with a gloomy expression

and a chewed satin bow.

The groom fed him morsels of pheasant —

laughing rather theatrically

when his finger was nipped

and the blood dyed his table napkin

a shade to match the azaleas.

A honeymoon is no time for

blood poisoning. Surely it was sunstroke

or an allergy to the spiky local fish?

Excitedly aghast, the wedding guests

re-assembled for the funeral.

The dog was left at home

but he didn’t seem to mind.