Where Do They All Come From?

I've related this story in person a couple of times, but thought I ought to write it down anyway. It happened a little before Christmas.

An older lady, sixty-something, shuffled into the store where I work. She stood clutching a shopping bag and waiting for the thick plastic expanse of her glasses to defog, eventually wiping them on a small patch of sweater clear from appliquéd pine trees. Reaching into the bag, she removed a box of greeting cards, along with a neatly folded receipt. The picture on the cards was, of course, kittens in Santa hats.

"I'd like to return these, please," she said.

"Was there anything wrong with them?" I asked.

"No," she said, "I just didn't realize when I bought them what they said on the inside."

I read the greeting off the back of the box: "We wish you a Meowy Christmas."

So Santa kittens were great, but puns that depended on an implicit speech impediment were crossing into territory so disgustingly cutesy that even this sweet old lady, blinking-nosed Rudolph pin and all, was unwilling to transgress. I could respect that.

Then she continued, "It says 'We.' I live alone, so . . . "

With a resolutely casual shrug, she broke my heart.