As soon as he was big enough to pick them up, which was about halfway through his first year of life, Boomer developed a “thing” for shoes.
We kept our footwear by the front door. Every time we asked him if he wanted to go for a walk, he would race to the door, grab a shoe, and dance around the living room with it. Ditto when we reached for our keys — YAY, car ride!
It might have looked like he was helping us with our outdoor wardrobe, but…he also did the happy shoe dance when someone knocked on the door…or one of us came home…or we opened a can of tuna or something equally exciting in the kitchen…
He didn’t chew on them or tear them up. The worst that ever happened was he’d fall asleep with one tucked under his chin and it would get soaked in drool.
But, being a born worrier, I was sure it was just a matter of time before he did wreck a shoe. And I knew that as a responsible pet owner my job was to keep temptations to a minimum. I reasoned that since we left our shoes in a heap on the floor, and that everything on the floor was fair game for Boomer, all I needed to do was get the footwear off the floor to signal to him that it was out of bounds.
That, of course, was back when I thought dogs could — or, perhaps I should say, were willing to — apply logic.
So I went out and bought one of those shoe racks, the kind that’s like a small bookcase, with a couple dozen individual cubbies. While Boomer and Daddy were out for a walk, I carefully assembled this new piece of furniture, systematically filled the slots with our paired shoes, and dusted my hands with a sense of accomplishment.
Boomer came through the door, saw the new arrangement, and heartily endorsed it…by carefully extracting a shoe from a cubby and dancing around the room with it. It turned out he loved having our footwear separated and displayed, so he could treat the shoe rack like a buffet from which to choose.
The main problem with cracking up over your dog’s antics is that it makes it impossible to discipline or train said dog.
Since no harm — other than occasional excessive drool — was being done to the footwear, I gave up and let Boomer have his way. Towards the end of his life, when his pain level was higher and his energy lower, having him grab a shoe and dance around in excitement was a bit of a novelty. When it did happen, Morgan and I laughed and applauded, thrilled to know that our boy was still capable of a happy dance.
