I Could Have Been Throwing a Red Rubber Ball for a Dog

By KJ Hays

I was at your February wedding Susan; a ceremony where a couple of families spend money to convince a gathering of well wishers that their kids have never had sex together. I stood towards the end of a row of ribbon spangled chairs that made it look like we had all moved over enough to let you pass through. You had a white dress on with white polka dots all over it. I thought you were wearing a wintry sky with a pattern of dim, perfect, circular, moons frozen in it. I would have told the tailor to add clouds though. That was almost the last thought of you I had that day because your white dress made me remember my ideas about cows. They never get together to make sure other cows aren’t pretending to be truthful to each other. Because cows never pretend, cows don’t exchange vows. Cows don’t have gods to promise to either. It is we who deify things like.cows.

Before I could brood further that classic wedding tune boomed in. I remember seeing your neck and breasts flush with a color that was as red as the blood leaking out of my nigh blind dog’s head after he bumped it on the diving board and fell in my pool. Yes, my last thought about you was that your skin was making winter end prematurely. I heard bees in a hurry when you started your vows. Then midway your eyes got all wet and cloudy. I realized then I was right about that alteration you should have had done. Your eyes were as cloudy as my pool after my dog’s blood had diluted the water until it was a discarded water color painting. Once your pledge was over your tear ducts were drained, and my dog had bled out. Then your and your fiancé’s nervous “I do’s” floated through the breezy morning air about as gracefully as a dog’s body does when it drifts on the surface of a murky pool. From the tone of your voice it was obvious to everyone present that my dog was going to be afloat long after your marriage had sunk. After that, no one got together or anything, but since you spoke so many volumes with your vows everyone decided to surprise you with some silence. I don’t remember the reception because I went home early with the snow. When I got home, I found my dog and lost all respect for you. I buried my dog that night, and wished that your marriage would endure.

Susan you could have left me out of the invitations. You could have remained white in my eyes. I could have thrown a red ball for my dog, instead of hold a tailor in contempt.

Sorry Susan, it was only an alright wedding.

I miss seeing my dog clench his favorite red toy in his white teeth.

Too bad you didn’t look slightly more fetching.