The other night at the inn, I had a chance to work with Terri. She's around my age and I know I'm going to enjoy working with her. Years ago she was the bar manager and she eventually left, but now she's back as a waitress.
We were sharing some war stories and after I told her about a dropped wedding cake that I had the misfortune of being involved with, she asked me if I remembered when 'The Mrs.' (our name for the owner) had a dog.
This was before my time so she filled me in.
Apparently, The Mrs. had a dog named Brandy and Brandy knew her place. Brandy never went into the dining room, she regally greeted the guests, and when it stormed or she was nervous she would hide in the cloak room.
But then Brandy had to be put to sleep and The Mrs. was heartbroken. Off to the pound she went and darned if they didn't have a dog named Brandy who needed a home.
Unfortunately this Brandy was a bit common and this Brandy didn't know her place. She spent far too much time jamming her nose into crotches and was routinely chased from the dining room. The inn has 75 guest rooms and back in the day, they were left open for the public to view. That practice stopped a few years ago when the public started stealing quilts off of the beds. But back then, Brandy had her choice of rooms and was often caught napping on one of them at any given time.
One day Terri was working in the bar and since there was very little business she told the bartender she was working with that they should go check out the banquet room. There was to be a wedding reception later in the day and it's always fun to see how it's been decorated.
They were walking through the breezeway when Brandy came galumphing down the stairs from the banquet room. As always, she was in a playful mood so she wrestled around with the bartender before she grew bored and went in search of more fun.
They checked out the decorations and when they returned to the bar, the bartender asked Terri why he had whipped cream all over his pants. That's strange, they agreed, where could that have come from.
Right about then, Terri heard a commotion and stuck her head out of the bar only to see Betty, the banquet manager (who is about 4 feet 10 inches tall) literally running down the hall with a wedding cake in her arms, and her face an awful shade of gray.
"Oh my God!" Betty was hysterical. "Oh my God!" she said over and over.
She shot through the bar and into the kitchen, with Terri and the bartender right on her heels.
The cake was deposited on a table and Betty cried, "Look at this cake! Just look at it!"
Everyone stared down at what had at one time, been a wedding cake.
Now however, most of the entire bottom layer was gone, obviously eaten and slobbered on by a very hungry Brandy.
"What am I going to do?" wailed Betty. "They'll all be arriving soon and, oh my God, what am I going to do?"
Every one jumped into action. The inn does have a bakery, but of course there were no spare wedding cakes laying around so someone ran to the grocery store and came back with a bunch of small cakes. The chef whipped up some frosting but they ran into a snag when they realized that the wedding cake's frosting was a funky, off white color. Drops of coffee were added to the frosting until a passable shade was obtained.
The little cakes were crammed into the vacant space that Brandy had created, frosting was slathered over it all, and since the inn has cake decorating tools, a new border was piped on.
They were extremely lucky that it was a relatively plain cake and didn't have a basket weave or some other intricate design on it's surface.
Back to the banquet room the newly repaired cake went and the bride never knew anything had happened.
I kid you not!
When the staff cut and served the cake, they just bypassed the 'Brandy' section and threw it out later.
Sadly, Brandy's days as the inn dog were numbered.
But how I wish that dog was still there.
I have to work a wedding this afternoon and if anything goes wrong I can't use the excuse, "The dog ate it."