I’m biting my nails to the quick waiting to hear from Kate about the puppy evaluations.
For three weeks, Kate and I have been doing the instant-messaging version of teenagers getting ready for prom.
Just imagine us running through a room, waving our hands around and crying “Oh, GOSH, they’re all crap! Aren’t they? They’re CRAP! I’ve never seen anything this bad!” and then throwing ourselves on the couch and saying “Wait, they’re not so bad, right? It’s going to be OK… They’re at least mediocre, right?” and staring at pictures. And the one of us sits up and says says “Wow, I really like that one. I bet he’s nice. I bet he could do well. Yeah, he’s great. He’s THE BEST! He’s a GROUP WINNER!”
And then we stare for a while longer, until one or the other of us flings ourselves backward on the pillows and says “Oh my LORD they’re all CRAP! I hate myself!”
Every time she posts pictures we wait for the comments. And there it always is, the kiss of death. “Oh, cute puppies!”
WHAT DOES CUTE MEAN? Does it mean “I just vomited in my mouth but I’m going to be nice to you?” Does it mean “Wow, sorry… but at least they’re CUTE”?
Oh, the tissues that have been used up and the cookies that have been eaten and the state we get ourselves worked up into… at about two in the morning, somebody says “Wait, I can’t stand her toe. I CANNOT. STAND. HER. TOE. I’ve looked at 382 pictures of her and that toe is making my eye twitch. I’m dead! I’m dead. I have to go to sleep now.”
And then we start over again the next day.
At this point I am not sure if we have the worst Cardigan litter ever bred or the best. I’ve looked at pictures long and hard, analyzed videos, and made Kate stand them up and down and sideways and on their backs and push various things with her fingertips and then type what she felt. I’ve traded e-mails of elation, e-mails of despair, made my kids look at the pictures, made Clue look at the pictures, waved things around and prayed.
It all comes down to this weekend. When people are going to look at those puppies and tell Kate that her prom dress looks great or that she’s wearing a potato sack.
I think I’m going to go throw up.