The Red Shoe

There we were, outside in masks (because California), sitting with our children in socially-distanced bubbles.  The kids were mostly too shy to want to play with each other anyway, after months of seeing much less of each other than normal.  It made for a pretty quiet mom's group, which is to say nothing worse than a dull roar, except when the leaf-blower man came by, which turned the affair up to a less dull roar.

Then came the man with the dog.  About fifty or so, by the look of him, and t'other a pup of the I'm-totally-not-a-rat variety.  For some strange reason, I.T.N.A.R.  was off-leash, which meant that he came in amongst us, sniffing and snuffing.  The man mumbled something that might have been an apology (the leash was dangling in his hand) and just when it looked as if the dog might have lost interest, lo! a pair of red shoes, of smell intriguing, inches away from the foot of a mysterious woman.  Who needs two shoes anyway?  And without a second thought, I.T.N.A.R. was off, and the one shoe with him.

Nervous laughter erupted.  The man seemed oblivious to the stir he had caused.  I went after I.T.N.A.R..

"He won't put the shoe down," the man explained.

Indeed, no amount of coaxing seemed to help, and I had little inclination to tackle-grab someone else's fun-size wiener.  It seemed like the sort of thing that might make even a relaxed Eastern-European-Californian upset.

"She can't leave without her shoe," I said rather grimly, and marched back to the group, defeated.

As I explained the situation to the others, one of the ladies saw the man disappearing (leash still in hand) into ... the restrooms?  I.T.N.A.R. wandered about outside the closed door for a moment, befuddled.  Then he dropped the shoe.

Reader, I sprinted.

The shoe was little the worse for wear when I dropped it (from a distance, mind) on its former owner's blanket.  As we were all laughing again (this time in relief), she said she might just walk back to the car in one shoe anyway.

"Dogs can carry COVID," she explained.

"Oh yes," said someone else, "I heard of a dog dying here in the States of COVID."

Reader, I was already feeding my children, and I had definitely not sanitized my hands.

But you know, I feel much more comfortable these days going to mom's group.  Because, after all, instead of lots of "It's just a cold" children sharing sippie cups, you know what?  The worst thing I have to worry about is whether I.T.N.A.R.'s owner has or has not been socially distancing.  And given what we saw of his social skills, I'm thinking I'm probably in the clear, dog spit or no.