Weddings... What gives?

Summer's here, that magical time where an old girl's thoughts turn to chasing butterflies, naps in the sun, and my owners ditching me every other weekend to go to something called "weddings."

What gives?

You people realize you're the only species on the planet that makes such a big deal out of this, right?  I mean, you see a member of the opposite sex you like - or the same sex, if that's what wags your tail (Go New York!) - you give it a sniff, and if you like what you smell, mount away.

But between engagement rings and engagement parties and bridal showers and bachelor parties... how much coin do you need to blow?  And not for nothing, by the by, but that's money that could be spent on more important things like, oh, I don't know, chew toys or rawhide bones.  What are you trying to prove?

And, yeah, sure I miss my owners when they go away, and I worry that I'm not there to insure their safety.

Maybe I'm just an old gal from Brooklyn who don't know my tail from my paws, but jeezy capeezy, enough with all the weddings already!