Girl and the Shoes
I was removing my boots after a walk to the beach with Roxy. She sat and watched my activity with disinterest. It must have been her askance attitude that shook a memory loose. A memory of Girl trying to look innocent around footwear of any kind. You see, Girl came to live with us barely old enough to eat dry kibble, and as much as she wanted to be around us, she was pretty much as certain that she belonged outside. A point of tension to be sure.
Wanting to be near humans, their warmth and smell, yet needing to be out and free too. I’m sure it was that juxtaposition that created the situations with shoes. She often could not seem to help herself; she would take a shoe out to the middle of the yard and lie down with her face resting on the footwear.
There were 6 of us living in the house, and for the most part, our footwear was left out in the porch. Girl would take one, and only one and carry it off. Never chewed on. It was not that king of comfort required. Just sweet dreams of the last playdate, child-filled games of race and chase and keep-away.
She would be found out, chastised, told “no” and “baaad dog!”, but still she would occasionally need some comfort and a shoe would take a trip. The owner then, if all the other shoes were gone elsewhere, had to either retrieve the shoe in stocking feet, or try to hop the distance on one shod foot, all the while berating Girl while she tried her best to look penitent.
As the children grew up and away, and Girl was home alone for most the day, she found comfort from neighbours and admirers walking by, and the shoes remained for the most part on the porch where they belonged, but she always found comfort in laying her wooly head on a pair of old boots or sneakers, and the porch never felt quite right without a pair of something there… and not necessarily in their right place.
-Roderick Jan 2011