I could kill someone. My dog, God damn him, chewed the plush leather heels of my only worn once Sam Edelmans. I haven't been so mad in I think my whole life where there was nothing I could do about it. Killing Cotton (the afore mentioned canine) is not a conceivable action although it was tempting for .987 seconds. Turning from blind rage to some kind of sensibility, I called a cobbler and the damge, although seemingly irrevocable, can be fixed for the small sum of $35.00. So, on the backwards path, I had a devil of a homecoming.
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