When I awoke bleary-eyed this morning I was in desperate need of the facilities; however, I couldn't find my house shoes. I have pedal neuropathy which makes barefoot walking very painful, so I shoved my feet into the nearest shoes I could find for the short trek into the bathroom. The shoes I found were the slides I normally wear to work.
As I lurched in the dark toward the bathroom, I realized something didn’t feel quite right. Adjusting my foot in the shoe did not alleviate the sensation. Quite frankly, I have been having problems with the cheap shoe inserts ever since I put them in, so I thought they were the problem. A remote second possibility, not one I wanted to consider due to the health ramifications, was that of swelling.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I turned on a light, kicked off the shoes, and did a double take—something fist-sized, brown, and furry starred up at me.
Luckily for everyone in the house, it was neither carbon-based—dead or living—nor waste product.
Evidentially one of The Boys had “gifted” me with a small floppy cat-dog toy.