Written for the following prompt:
The small chapel had seen its fair share of unusual events. Like the time the ducklings waddled in through the open-door during Stella Buttresses wedding.
Watching as the kids had dived, trying to coral the male duck, had been amusing. Wings flapping, duck taking flight and knocking Mrs Buttresses hat akilter.
Then to top it off George in his fluorescent tank top had grappled with the drake and thrown him into the pond, only to fall in and take a swim of his own.
That had been one of his favourite sights, but this moment topped that easily.
The priest allowing the cow into church, as acknowledgement that all faiths are equal.
Now this was the pinnacle of his existence.
The chapel settled its foundations, pleased.