shlepping shopping around Wal-Mart last week when on a whim I took a turn through the shoe section. That's when I found a pair of shoes in my own actual size. Now you may not think this is such a big deal, but I wear 14 Wides, so finding shoes I can wear is highly unusual. They were Doc Shoals, with the Gel inserts, and they fit nicely. I grabbed them up and laid down my cash (well, my debit card, but you get the idea).
Well, I had to to go to a funeral this morning, so I wore my good shoes and went straight from there to work. When I came home, Piper had ripped the insoles out of them both and had shredded the tongue and on one.
I'm not mad, just - I dunno, somewhere between disgusted with myself for leaving them where she could get at them (she's done this before - to Paula's diabetic shoes, which cost considerably more than Dr Shoals!) and confused over what her deal with shoes is, anyway.
And in case anyone is wondering, the cat I mentioned a few weeks ago had been living down in our sun room. He and the dog still don't get along too well, but we only let one of them in there at a time.
I was out