Shoe napping: An Edmonton Christmas Concert story, 1945, by Harley Reid
Date: 21 December 1945
Friday afternoon, Christmas concert, December 21, 1945 and it was my turn up on the stage of the school gymnasium. As the audience grew silent I took a deep breath and surprised everyone with a loud squeak when I tried to talk. I hesitated as the audience responded with laughter but inhaled again and began my recitation. "It was the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse... When out on the lawn there came a great call, 'Hi Yo Silver, this chimney's too small!'" There was an agonizing few seconds as the surprise ending to the old favorite sunk in. Then laughter and applause greeted my efforts much to my relief and delight.
The concert ended about four and I left the school, riding my bicycle down to the Edmonton Journal Branch Office to pick up the afternoon papers for delivery to my customers. I was half way through my paper route and still feeling the emotional high of the Christmas concert when my mother¹s voice broke into my thoughts. "You come home after the concert and change your good clothes and shoes before you do your papers." Wow! Much too late now to remember her instructions, so I carried on delivering the Journal. I heard the barking before I spotted the dog.
It came out of the alley and ran towards me, then started biting at my foot as I pedaled my bicycle. I kicked back but missed the dog a couple of times. And then it happened. Somehow the dog bit into my shoe and pulled it off. By the time I realized what happened and got off my bicycle to give chase the dog had disappeared. I was standing there in the snow with only one of my brand new penny loafer shoes on and one diamond sock covering the other foot. I finished delivering my papers and by the time I arrived home my shoeless foot was numb with cold and the sock had a hole in it. The thrill of the Christmas concert had been replaced with the anticipated greeting I would receive as I told my folks the sad story. After supper my dad drove me back to where the 'shoe napping' took place. He knocked on one or two doors before he found out who owned the dog I had described. The owner was home when dad called and the two men went around the back of the house. In a short while they returned. As I watched, they shook hands and appeared to be enjoying a joke. As dad got back into the truck he was still laughing as he handed me my shoe. It looked a bit worse for wear and the penny was gone from the front, but it was going home with me where it belonged. It wouldn't be alone for Christmas.