Sonny and the Red Shoes

                                                        Sonny, napping with Duckie
                                                

The other day, while I was mowing grass out back, our Goldie Sonny got one of Dani's shoes and ruined it. He has a thing for little seams--he likes to very delicately chew the straps from her high heels, or the velcro strap from the backs of my ballcaps. It's as if he likes degree of difficulty--he could easily just shred these things, but he prefers close work.

This pair of shoes of Dani's was brand new, she had had worn them maybe once, and she had a couple of new outfits she was eager to wear with them. I put the damaged shoe on her little telephone desk in the kitchen.

As I was in my truck, backing out to head to the park for  a show, Dani pulled into the driveway, home from work. I tried to prepare her--" Before you go in the house, I want you to think about the Sonny you miss when you're away on trips. I want you to think how terrible you felt when he was ill that one time. I want you to see that eager-to-please face that's in there right now, so happy to have you home." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I told her what he did. He hasn't done anything like this in a long time, actually, he's gone from being that evil puppy who scored deep gouges in our drywall with his teeth, and who destroyed countless shoes and pillows and teddy bears, to being an adult dog whose main weakness is that he counter-surfs when you aren't looking, and he likes to shred napkins.  All in all, an admirable Golden Retriever.

But not the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn't often think things through. He has to be a good host when you come through the door--when you first walk in, he is there, wagging and making Scooby noises. Then he disappears for a few seconds, and always come right back with something in his mouth, a gift for you, just his way of saying thanks for being you. Usually it is a squeaky toy, or the pitiful remains of a teddy bear he's shredded, or a bone, or whatever he can get his mouth around in a hurry and get back to you. He once brought me one of our kittens, who dangled from his soft mouth in resignation.

 Dani told me she steeled herself before entering, remembering it was her fault that she left the shoes near his napping place, so it was really like leaving crack next to an outreach center. She walked through the door, Sonny greeted her with his usual enthusiasm, disappeared, and came back with-- of course-- the other red shoe in his mouth. One might think he was rubbing it in, bringing the undamaged mate to the shoe, but I like to think Sonny is a "glass half-full kind of guy". He was just demonstrating that there was still one perfectly good shoe, so, you know, when you think about it, everybody wins! Dani stood there for a moment, shocked by his stupidity ( none of us should be anymore), then she started laughing, and dropped down and gave him a big hug. So you know, in a way, he was right--everybody wins!