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Flying Sole-o

Valentine’s Day was hard this year. I lost my solemate. AKA my shoe sole. It disintegrated.

Allow me to step backward in time. Many years ago, I purchased a pair of shoes from a shoe shop. I wore my moccasins on special occasions and when I couldn’t wear my sneakers. My new shoes remained new because I took such good care of them.

Right before Valentine’s Day, there was a downpour. When the sun came out, I couldn’t wear my soaking wet sneakers, so I turned to my beloved moccasins for back up.

I was horrified to see that the sole was falling apart. I showed them to the shoe shop manager. He thought the problem was I hadn’t worn the shoes enough. He said it’s better to wear the shoes all the time, otherwise the soles wear out. I had never heard of such a thing, but I guess the saying is true: time wounds all heels (and soles).

I called the company to get a second opinion. The customer service rep said the problem was not that I hadn’t worn the shoes enough, but there might be a shoe defect. He said I should return the shoe and the company would inspect and investigate.

Today I received the verdict: there was, indeed, a defect.

The company issued a $100 credit good toward a new shoe.

I’m looking forward to meeting my new solemate.

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Dog Day Afternoon ~ Myth or Reality?

I hope everyone had a good Valentine’s Day!

My beloved dog, Schnoodel, turned seven. We celebrated her birthday with an off leash romp and party at the park.

Before the party, we visited the market and eyed the pastry selection, made by the store’s in house European bakery. Since it was Schnoodel’s special day, I asked what she would like for a treat.

Without a moment’s paws, she replied, “Woof woof, bow wow wow, bark bark,” which in Bichon translated into “A slice of Princess Torte, please.”

After playing catch for what seemed like hours, it was time to focus on more serious matters: eating.

Schnoodel sat on the picnic table between me and my boyfriend. She listened appreciatively to our “happy birthday to you” duet.

She watched as I unwrapped her cake. Of course, I gave her first dibs. She nibbled at the pink marzipan and licked the layer of cream, but then she refused the rest.

She said she was stuffed already.

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