Buckle My Shoe

We have a collection of precious personalized chewed items from Reno and Ivan, (Leo didn’t chew anything, and Dasa has only shredded tissues or magazines.) The purse Reno chewed is a treasure, as are the pot holders and the napkins that have ragged edges thanks to our Bambino.

Ivan started us out with notice that we couldn’t let our guard down. After losing several pairs of jeans to the Jaws of Ivan, I stopped carrying treats in my jeans pockets. The boy can smell a quark of doggy biscuit remnant and decimate a significant swatch of denim in an amazingly short time. We have the first comb he chewed soon after we adopted him. It’s right beside the leather wallet that lasted less than two days after Eric brought it home. He left it in his pants pocket while he took a shower. Ivan decided this leather smelled too wonderful and really needed to be chewed.

We decided it was clearly human error that allowed Ivan to get the wallet, and we were practically entrapping him with this temptation. We felt he was very clever to get the wallet without damaging the pants, and it was also very thoughtful of him to leave only a single tooth mark on one credit card. Plastic is so much less enticing than leather.

Speaking of leather, I’m counting on the shoe repair guy to perform a miracle and restore my red sandals.  Ivan has rules about where things should be. I have shoe racks within his reach, but they are apparently in the right place. My red sandals were left, OK, no passive voice, I left my red sandals out on my office floor. Ivan decided this was not acceptable or maybe the leather was too tempting. So I’m off to see the shoe repair guy.