Croc-Eating Schnauzers and A Plea for Your Help

Let's talk about choices. The kind of choices that we often take for granted. Just a few short months ago, I was starting each day with a choice. It wasn't a difficult decision, really more like freedom of choice combined with a bit of guilty pleasure. I was choosing what color of Crocs I would wear throughout my day. Just to clarify, I'm fully aware that Crocs are unfashionable but, at this point in my life, my feet scream much louder than my inner fashionista and I've made a conscious decision to listen to them. It was a bit of an indulgence to purchase three pairs but, I really love these Mary Jane Crocs and they're just about all I wear. Then, the schnauzers moved in.These are the culprits: Jackson and Baxter. For the first couple of months, they were too small to go up and down the stairs on their own so life continued on in a fairly normal way. Then, they grew. I would realize they were no longer nipping at my heels and after a somewhat frantic search, I would find them upstairs in one of the bedrooms busily sorting through the trash can they had knocked over. So, I made a rule that the bedroom doors must be kept shut at all times during the day. As with all rules, certain people (you know who you are!) love to break them. I walked into the TV room last month to find one of my olive green Crocs sitting on the table and my husband wearing a guilty look. I was pretty sure that the guilty look wasn't because he had chewed through the strap of the shoe and, after a short interrogation, he admitted to having left the bedroom door open. Of course, I didn't take it well. The olive green Crocs were my favorite! But, I still had two pairs left and I was sure I would survive. Then yesterday, my survival was threatened once again.
Caught in the act! Notice the guilty expressions and their unsuccessful attempts to appear well-behaved even in this obviously staged photo. My second-favorite khaki Crocs chewed beyond repair! The choice that I enjoyed making each morning was snatched away in a matter of moments. My life is now reduced to one pair of size 8, burgundy Mary Janes. Or, as I'm beginning to realize, divided into the pre-schnauzer and post-schnauzer eras. There is hope, however. Luckily, the schnauzers left me with both a left and a right shoe still intact.

Something is wrong with this photo, beyond the obvious color difference. If I could just find a way to add some continuity between these shoes, perhaps I could get away with wearing them to take out the trash or to the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
Nope, not even lime green rhinestones, which normally can overcome ANY fashion crisis, can make these shoes more presentable. So this is where you, an innocent bystander reading this blog, can be of great help to me.

Last night I was laying in bed and mourning the loss of the Crocs and I started to think about all the wayward shoes out there. You've seen them. One lone shoe on the side of the road and no mate in sight. How does that happen? Does one shoe come to life and jump out of a moving car when the window is rolled down and no one is looking? Does someone stick their foot out the window, lose a shoe, and decide to leave it where it falls because they have lots of others at home? In more than 40 years, I have never abandoned a shoe by the side of the road so I can't fathom how this happens. It's one of the great mysteries of life which may never be solved. In any case, should you happen to pass by an abandoned Croc as you're driving down the highway, pull over, stop your car, get out, and have a look. Just remember to use caution and your emergency flashers when pulling off to the shoulder. I'd hate to discover that you were injured by a passing motorist while trying to help me out. Or, perhaps you have a friend whose home has been invaded by schnauzers and one of her Mary Jane Crocs, in khaki or olive, size 8, was also eaten. Maybe we can arrange some sort of Croc swap or a support group for schnauzer owners. All I ask is that you keep your eyes open for a mate for my single Crocs. I would be forever grateful for your help. And don't worry about the lone burgundy survivors, they will be locked in a steel box on a shelf in the top of my closet when they're not on my feet, which will be pretty much all the time since they are now my ONLY choice.