The Fourth Veil

Veronica and Mary had great success the first day fitting the dogs in their costumes. The second day was a different story. Fitzy’s passion for chewing ruined three veils before Mary and Veronica invented a system. Veronica held Fitzy’s nose in the crook of her elbow while Mary attached the veil. But Veronica was nervous that on Halloween, when Fitzy was not muzzled by human hands, she would eat through her veil. Veronica tried not to think about that. Or about Fitzy biting other trick-or-treaters. Or Cadbury eating too much candy. Or who she was going to say no to: Melody or the A Team.

Veronica was gluing little lapels to the black T-shirt she’d found. The next step was sewing the gold buttons in a neat line down the front. Cadbury lay on the floor, panting like the whole experience was too much for him.

“I think he’s really getting into the part, poor baby,” Mary said. “You know? Maybe the whole idea of being with only one dog for the rest of his life is a little too much. A little too overwhelming. Maybe he wants to stay a bachelor.” Mary had never married. Cadbury coughed. “See?” Mary said. “He is allergic to the idea of marriage. Like a lot of men, come to think of it. Now, tell me your pickle.”

“It’s bad. I said yes to too many people,” Veronica said.

“The more yesses the better, no?” Mary asked through a mouthful of pins.

“Oh, Mary.” Veronica sighed. “I can’t explain. I just can’t.”

“Two words. Open windows. Open windows.”

“Mary, can I say something?”

“Yes, my baby.”

“That’s four words.”