A Taste for Fashion: Nova and the Shoe Saga

A Taste for Fashion: Nova and the Shoe Saga

For some dogs, it’s tennis balls. For others, it’s socks.
Nova? Nova had a thing for shoes.

Not just any shoes, mind you. He had taste. Trainers were fine. Slippers? Acceptable. But what truly captured his heart—and unfortunately, his teeth—were the shoes that cost more than most utility bills.

From the moment he arrived, Nova was obsessed. Shoes weren’t just objects—they were companions. He’d sleep on them like they were his long-lost littermates, often curling around a boot or resting his chin delicately on a well-worn sneaker. It was charming at first, almost endearing. He’d gently tug one into his bed and fall asleep with it between his paws, as if guarding a treasure.

But charm has its limits—especially when charm starts to chew.

The first few attempts were innocent enough. A nibble here, a gum-print there. Every chew came with a firm “No!” and the gradual introduction of acceptable alternatives: chew toys, ropes, bones—anything that wasn’t leather or canvas. It seemed to be working. He learned, slowly but surely, that shoes were off-limits.

Or so we thought.

One quiet afternoon, suspicious silence set in—always a red flag in a household with a young Huskamute. Nova had vanished. A quick search turned up nothing, until a faint rustling was heard from beneath the bed. And there he was: triumphant, tail wagging, nestled beside what had once been a pristine pair of handcrafted Italian shoes.

One was untouched. The other… looked like it had lost a bar fight with a blender.

There was no growling, no guilty look—just pure satisfaction. He'd found the forbidden fruit, and it had been delicious.

It was a costly chew, no doubt. But in that moment, as he emerged from under the bed with fluff on his nose and the heel still clutched in his jaw, it was hard to stay mad. The love for shoes never fully left him—but over time, he learned to worship them from afar.

Mostly.