Jo wants nothing to do with wearing shoes. The signs are all there. He only tolerates them, hoping his cooperation will earn him savory rewards. Along the Deschutes River, Jo raises his legs high with each step as if he’s a Tennessee Walker in the show ring. Those we pass look down at his paws, I can tell he’s embarrassed. I began contemplating his retaliation effort once back at the house.
Outside, Jo taps his paws with ballerina technique. When he realizes he’s unable to shake them off, he pulls at them with his teeth. Give him enough time alone, I bet he will eat those shoes off, one at a time. I remove the silly looking rubber booties, accepting that this may be nothing more than a pet fashion faux pas.
Jo remains my best friend and… “Shoeless Jo”.