Just for Larry...

Time warp: End of May, 1957. Two days before my wife and I marry.

We're sitting on the front porch of my inlaws' home on Areba Street. Suddenly, Audrey's old cocker spaniel, Mike, has a seizure and tumbles down the steps.

"Ooh," my 19-year-old fiancee sobs. "If Mike dies, I'm not getting married."

Took the vet about five minutes to assure us Mike would be okay. Took me a couple hours to floss away the dog hair after giving the poor mutt artificial respiration.