She’s cute, she’s cute,
She’s so so cute,
She’s so much cuter than me..

And never a sheep took notice of
her hoof in agony.

If she could name one thing, -we found this out this morning- that Elsa would want to change about herself, it would be her right hoof. It wasn’t as perfect as the rest of her. Her wool had perfect hue of love and white, the shape of her inner ears were perfectly tuned to the world, the butterfly on her head was happy, her dress fitted perfectly and drew more attention to her than it, her perfect facial expressions could have talked with us as much as Jesus’ friend John would have written if the world could have contained his books.

But still there was this right hoof. The shape was off. If it would have been a clover in a clover field, she would not have eaten it, because it had the wrong shape. Not all shapes with four sizes look like squares, she figured, and the same goes for hoofs. Elsa inspected it from a close-up. Luckily it didn’t smell weird. It was just the shape.

If I just grab my hoof like this..

Maybe I can separate myself from it..

But Elsa couldn’t separate her from her hoof. She couldn’t distance herself from the hoof she just noticed to be imperfect. All of what she thought was her identity now fell too. What is sheep to do when even two hoofs aren’t the same? How would other sheep ever believe her if she said it was her that frolicked their way?

I think you’re gorgeous, some sheep said. His name was Dean.

Re-heally? Elsa blubbered.
Yes, re-heally, Dean said.

I noticed the perfection of your left hoof, but that’s not what caught my eye, nor was it the imperfection of your right one, Dean whispered, wich I find quite hoofilicious, if I may say so.

What I saw can’t be classified in either one of those categories, he said, while kissing Elsa on her nose. I saw potential, I saw hope. Only then I noticed the hoof.

You know, all this outer exterior, how yummy I think you look right now, all this outer exterior will someday fade, Dean said. But potential stands outside of time. Hope does also.

Oh wait, is this turning into a sheep love story again?
Where they start to eh..

..come on you guys.. Let’s write something else.

You know, Dean said. Perfection is for heaven. Imperfections are living testimonies of your uniqueness, it’s as if they are breathing books. When you read a book, no page there is the same is it? Do you call that imperfection because you take one page and compare it to pages that aren’t even yours to have an opinion on? Why don’t you let the story speak for itself and read?

Elsa was sold from the moment Dean said he found her hoofilicious. You know, sheep can find that entrance in your heart by just one word, and usually it’s a word that surprises you when you hear it, it surprises you mainly because you feel your heart opening. She remembered him kissing her on her nose, saying something about clover. And now he wanted to pose with her, touching her right hoof. Life is good after all, she thought, if I were a book, I’d buy me.