The Bachelorette Party: How it started/How it ended

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led into bed in the early hours of the morning. Kaite was a little worried about Winston and decided to sleep close by in the study. Cat and their other best friend (also named Katie) slept in the living room, in case Kaite needed them.About 3 a.m., they were awakened by Kaite’s frantic cries. “You guys! You guys! I think Winston’s dead.”Winston, who had fallen asleep on his doggy cot, had clearly snorted and drooled his last. He might as well have had cartoon x’s over his eyes.In a panic, the girls harken back to their youth. “We have to call your dad!”Kaite’s always practical father, after a lot of tears (on her part) and much needed reassurance (on his) that the girls could handle the situation on their own, gave them instructions: “Grab some towels, wrap him up, and put him in the back of the Porsche,” he said. They could take him to the vet’s office Saturday morning.Their Porsche Cayenne SUV was parked in the garage. Winston’s dog cot-turned-stretcher gave Cat and Kaite enough leverage to hoist a 60-or-so pound bulldog into the trunk.Then they went ba

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ck in the house and sat down to process the shared trauma, and tried to fall back to sleep for a couple of hours before brunch and mimosas and a lot of explanations to the others.The girls reflected afterward that Winston had a reputation as being kind of a jerk — it was just the kind of funny/awful thing he would do.And that’s pretty much the whole story. The bachelorette party was great, but the dog died.It’s just that line, “Take him out and put him in the back of the Porsche…”The whole scenario is like something out of a sitcom, or a sequel to “Weekend at Bernie’s.” where Terry Kiser, aka Bernie, plays a corpse for most of the movie.I can just see some screenwriters plotting this out, “So these guys rob a bank, and as they’re making their getaway, they slam into the back of this Porsche SUV …”But nothing like that happened. That’s pretty much the whole story.Anyway, rest in peace, Winston.You will definitely be remembered … for crossing over the Rainbow Bridge in the middle of a bachelorette party.</article></body>

The Bachelorette Party: How it started/How it ended

We’ve always entertained a lot as a family, mostly having friends over for cozy dinners.

My daughter Cat planned her bachelorette party along the same lines — not a blowout weekend in Las Vegas, but a pleasant weekend at the beach in South Haven, Michigan, at her friend Kaite’s parents’ house. (Kaite’s parents were the ones enjoying themselves in Las Vegas that weekend.)

Also present at the party, in addition to bridesmaids, her sister (the matron of honor) and future sisters-in-law was Winston, Kaite’s parents’ elderly, overweight English bulldog. Who had been feeling a little peaky that weekend, but bulldogs do tend to wheeze and snort a lot.

After a pleasant Friday evening with girlfriends, pizza and rosé, and anticipation of the wedding to come, everyone crawled into bed in the early hours of the morning. Kaite was a little worried about Winston and decided to sleep close by in the study. Cat and their other best friend (also named Katie) slept in the living room, in case Kaite needed them.

About 3 a.m., they were awakened by Kaite’s frantic cries. “You guys! You guys! I think Winston’s dead.”

Winston, who had fallen asleep on his doggy cot, had clearly snorted and drooled his last. He might as well have had cartoon x’s over his eyes.

In a panic, the girls harken back to their youth. “We have to call your dad!”

Kaite’s always practical father, after a lot of tears (on her part) and much needed reassurance (on his) that the girls could handle the situation on their own, gave them instructions: “Grab some towels, wrap him up, and put him in the back of the Porsche,” he said. They could take him to the vet’s office Saturday morning.

Their Porsche Cayenne SUV was parked in the garage. Winston’s dog cot-turned-stretcher gave Cat and Kaite enough leverage to hoist a 60-or-so pound bulldog into the trunk.

Then they went back in the house and sat down to process the shared trauma, and tried to fall back to sleep for a couple of hours before brunch and mimosas and a lot of explanations to the others.

The girls reflected afterward that Winston had a reputation as being kind of a jerk — it was just the kind of funny/awful thing he would do.

And that’s pretty much the whole story. The bachelorette party was great, but the dog died.

It’s just that line, “Take him out and put him in the back of the Porsche…”

The whole scenario is like something out of a sitcom, or a sequel to “Weekend at Bernie’s.” where Terry Kiser, aka Bernie, plays a corpse for most of the movie.

I can just see some screenwriters plotting this out, “So these guys rob a bank, and as they’re making their getaway, they slam into the back of this Porsche SUV …”

But nothing like that happened. That’s pretty much the whole story.

Anyway, rest in peace, Winston.

You will definitely be remembered … for crossing over the Rainbow Bridge in the middle of a bachelorette party.