Dogs, you can’t live with them; you can’t live without them.
Oh, that’s men, but my husband has never eaten or attempted to eat my snow shoes.
Wrong picture. That’s a deer, a doe, a female deer.
My dogs, however, (I have two of them) love to chomp on leather, or cotton/polyester products with a foam center, kind of like an Oreo. I’m talking about pillows of any breed.
The main suspect and perpetrator is Jenny, a Sato dog, who once lived on the streets of Puerto Rico eating garbage and anything else that helped her to survive. Now garbage is just an hors’devour.
Jenny stares at an open food compactor, as if it were a buffet table. Garbage cans are snack trays. She gives a whole new meaning to the expression “dumpster diving.”
I once caught her lying on a bed eating tissues from the Kleenex box she grabbed from the nightstand. Maybe tissues taste like cotton candy or chicken.
Anything of questionable taste, other than clothing, is immediately put into the chicken column, although no one has ever accused chicken of tasting like anything questionable unless it involves my cooking. And my husband has used some choice words to describe my culinary expertise, before consumption (BC), while still in the baking dish set on the counter in a Good Housekeeping photo op moment. I wish! And after digestion (AD), when said chicken carcass and husband carcass end up in the can.
But I’ve wandered off topic again and find myself slowly edging back to the point . . . that my dog ate my snow shoe, which is now in a flip-flop state, meaning that when lifting the shoe, most of the heel remains on the floor. Not good for icy conditions or walking in general.
In the case of another pair of snow shoes I own, one of the shoes is now a widow since her better half has bitten the dust, or more aptly, been bitten. We have lots of widow and widower shoes in the hall closet. They lie in mourning, saddened by the untimely deaths of their shoe spouses. One day I will discard the widowed shoes, but right now I honor the memory of the poor departed soles. They mate for life, you know.
Do you have any widowed shoes?If so, what caused their untimely demise?