Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy by Robert Bryndza Read Free Book Online Page A

camera out of his bag. ‘These two are my models.’
    ‘Thanks boys, for everything,’ I said tearfully as they left. They waved, then pulled up their hoods and crunched off in the snow.
      When they’d gone, I realised I had no food for Rocco; no bed or bowl, lead or coat. The poor little thing was starving, but the cupboards were bare. I scrabbled around the kitchen as he shifted on his little paws snorting and wuffling impatiently, and finally unearthed some of those little UHT milk creamers you put in coffee. I opened one and knelt down offering him the tiny pot of milk. He went crazy for it lapping away hungrily, all the time watching me with his little brown eyes. I opened another and another and soon he had drunk six. He licked my hand happily, then stretched out on the kitchen floor and fell asleep. I’m just about to brave the snow and stock up on doggy things.

    Friday 3rd December   14.56
    TO: [email protected]

    Rocco won’t eat! I’ve made him beef stew, grilled chicken, pork chops, all in his lovely new red bowl; all of which he’s sniffed dismissively then turned on his little paws and pranced off. Not only that he’s rejected all forms of dog food, from the big butch tins to the little gourmet foil containers.  
    The only thing he will touch is those little milks. I have to open each one individually and hold it out for him to lap at. Myself and Chris have made frequent trips to the coffee shop in Regent’s Park, the only place we can get our hands on the little milks. With all this snow London is eerily empty, well the bits I’ve seen, the parked cars are covered in a glittery layer of ice.
    Despite his disinterest in food, Rocco seems to be thriving. He showers me with affection, he never leaves my side, he’s even taken to toilet training. Every two hours he gives a little bark and I let him out in the back garden. I have dug a little path for him in the snow, and he scampers along it to do his business, then scampers back, and I wrap him up in a towel to keep warm. He even sleeps on the bed curled up beside me!  
    How are you enjoying your school being closed? I wish you could make it across here. I’ve got a big fire roaring in the living room.

    Monday 6th December   16.14
    TO: [email protected]

    After a weekend of Rocco still not eating, Chris came with me to take him to the Vet. The snow is so deep and he is so tiny that I carried him in a little wicker basket. Hey lay there happily with his head poking out from under a blanket. The Vet said that Rocco seems to be growing and is perfectly healthy. She suggested I try and hide cottage cheese or peanut butter in the little milk containers, and then normal food, in the hope he’ll start eating properly. The Vet is a beautiful young Irish woman, her examination room was filled with pictures of her and a dashing dark haired chap.
    I don’t think she’s been in London long. As she put Rocco back in his basket she asked me and Chris how long we’d been together.
    'We’re both single,' I said, which hung desperately in the air and I saw a tinge of pity in her eyes.
    ‘How has she got a man?’ said Chris when we were back out on the snowy pavement. ‘She must spend half of her time with her hand up a cows backside.’
    ‘I doubt that’ I said. ‘She’s a central London Vet, she makes a fortune immunising handbag dogs, course she’s a catch!’
    We needed cheering up so we went for a coffee at Insomnia Cafe on Marylebone High Street. It’s full of twits on laptops and a latte costs £4.75, but they’re the only place apart from Regents Park Cafe who have a big basket full of those little milks. Whilst I went and ordered, Chris filled up his pockets for me. We found a table in the corner and I put Rocco, who was asleep in his basket, on the chair beside me. Christmas music was playing and some of the Barista’s were hanging lights and decorating a large tree.
    'I’ve got no work on the horizon,' said