Paws before dying

deliberately NQ’d—not qualified—by failing that last exercise.
    I knew precisely how they felt. It’s happened to me. In Novice and Open, of course, the last exercise is the long down. You get through everything else with a 200, step confidently toward the dog with five seconds to go until that perfect score, and then watch helplessly as he rises to a sit and your heart sinks. He might as well have lagged, forged, sat crooked, failed the recall, and dropped his dumbbell. You might as well never have trained at all. You might as well have stayed home. Or, in Leah’s case, she might as well have gone to public kindergarten instead of Montessori, read the complete works of Robert Ludlum instead of Jane Austen, and scored minus 800 on all the tests. Most of all, she should have stayed home. She should have stayed with her parents, not with me. Why is that?
    Cassie read me the NQ’ing essay. Her voice sounded nothing like my mother’s. I felt sorry for Arthur and Cassie, but I knew that there was no cause for alarm. Leah’s statement was succinct and truthful. Why did she want to go to Harvard? Well, Harvard is located conveniently near the Nonantum and Cambridge dog training clubs. Harvard Square is an ideal place to train because, damn it, it really is a lot like a dog show. Veritas, you know. Truth. That’s Harvard’s motto.
    “So what’s the problem?” I asked Cassie. “She’s a shoo-in. She’ll be back in Cambridge next fall. The dogs will be thrilled.” Cassie hung up.