Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the closet...

Sally has started chewing again in earnest. I don't know what brought it on, if she was nervous about starting school, or is mad that we went away for a weekend, or if cleaning her teeth made everything that much more delicious, but she went back to chewing as much as she was when we first got her. My mother is convinced it's because we don't say to her "don't chew" before we leave her alone. However, if that worked my instructions to "vacuum the carpet" would lead to me coming home to a very clean house.

Her new favorite target is my shoes. Last Saturday we came home to find what appeared to be the aftermath of a shoe snuff film. My Crocs, my clogs, and my sandals were all in pieces around the couch. All I had left were running shoes (which I would have paid her to eat), a pair of flip flops and my fancy dress shoes that are all in boxes (thank God she doesn't have x-ray vision). I now needed to restock my entire shoe collection -- or else become a Hare Krishna. I think we all know I don't like people enough to be a Hare Krishna, although I would be very good at doing their dances.

When we first got Sally I tied my closet shut every time we left the house, and I have started doing it again. However, this time it is not as successful, because she has an accomplice. Maggie the cat. Maggie likes to sleep on the floor of my closet. She is also obsessive. The combination of these two things means she won't stop until she gets into the closet, even if it means tunneling under. After the first night of shoe carnage I began tying the closet doors closed with the belt of my robe, and every night I came home to find the doors open. I don't know how she did it, but Maggie got the doors open. I think Sally must have promised her a share of the shoes.

When all was said and done, I was down five pairs of shoes by Tuesday.

There are few things in the world I really hate doing. One, as you now know, is going to amusement parks. Ranking a close second though is shoe shopping. It's just too confusing. All the colors, the heel sizes, the designers, the qualities, the real or faux leather -- I just get overwhelmed. I start sweating and end up buying loafers just to be able to leave. I hate loafers. Thank God for the Internet.

Tuesday morning I got on the Internet, while wearing my flip flops, and began perusing shoes on line. Within minutes I had picked out seven pairs to replace the ones chewed, plus two for pairs I had been meaning to replace. I also, for some reason, ended up with a pair of loafers. I guess some habits die hard.

Then something strange happened. I began to enjoy looking for shoes. They all looked like pretty pieces of candy, and I wanted to taste them . I began to venture away from my normal colors of black and brown and began looking at pink ones and blue ones and even (gasp) some with multiple colors. I suddenly understood Imelda Marcos -- and my sisters. I wanted more shoes, some for every day of the week. A pair for every outfit. Or, if I didn't have an outfit, I could go buy one. The shoes were that important. I didn't even have to wear them, I could use them as decoration around the house.

Ryan was the one that finally snapped me out of it. He did it with four simple words: "Sally will eat those." I couldn't let that happen to these wonderful, beautiful shoes. Crocs? Sure. But not the shoes in my world of fantasy.

His words echoed in my head tonight when I opened the door to the house to find the flip flops Sally had previously spared chewed into tiny pieces of rubber. She had decided to branch out too, destroying a pair of underpants and a baseball hat.

Well, at least I don't really wear baseball hats. And there aren't that many kinds of underpants out there. Are there?