Judging The Person by The Shoes

Is it just me, or is it quite funny that a study about guessing people's personality from their shoes was carried out in Kansas?

Ok, it's maybe a bit left field, but come on? Dorothy? Toto? Ruby red slippers?

Anyway, here's the science bit. Researchers at the University if Kansas found out that judging a stranger's personality by their shoes is 90% accurate. In fact, it even goes so far as to say that you can work out their gender, age, income, emotional stability and politics from someone's footwear.

Jeez, who needs astrology when all you need to do is check out their clogs?

I was going to call on my science degree for the whole 'Aim, Method, Apparatus, Results, Conclusion' thing, but let's be honest, science is only cool on TV when you're a character on Criminal Minds or CSI.

So the guinea pigs were asked to put on the shoes that they wore most often and complete a personality survey.

It wasn't rocket science to work out that those with the expensive shoes earned more cash or that extroverts tend to have fancier shoes.


Anyway the researchers who viewed 208 photos of shoes noted that agreeable people wore practical shoes, calm people had uncomfortable shoes. Liberals had cheaper and shabbier shoes, whereas the people who liked to take care of their footwear may suffer from attachment anxiety. Ankle boots tend to be worn by those who people who have a more aggressive personality.



So that leaves Dorothy as an extroverted calm person who likes to wear the shoes of a dead witch?

Oh well, who said 'you can't judge an Indian till you walk 10 miles in his moccasins?'





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Dave Shepherd, the Dog Who Rescued Me

I want another rescue dog. To be honest, I'm not really fussy what type, size or age it is. I just know that I want one.

It all started in the early 90s when I was living on my own and working as an assistant manager in a nightclub. This led to the usual threats of physical violence and verbal abuse.

Rather than admit I was a bit of a coward, I remembered what had been said to my mum when she had a stalker. 'Get a big dog, cause even if the dog won't do anything to an intruder, it's sometimes enough to put them off,' so with this ringing in my ears, I called around a couple of dog shelters, cause quite frankly I couldn't be arsed with training and anyway I wanted a dog now, not a puppy.

And so began my love affair with rescue dogs.

I will freely admit that having a teenage German shepherd sometimes led us to have arguments with each other. Like for example he would scavenge and rake for chocolate and had the ability to sniff it out wherever it was. So I would scold him, send him to his bed and refuse to speak to him. On other occasions, he would get annoyed at me for being later home and duly crap on the floor 3 minutes after a walk.

We got round that and to be frank, I was young and he was too. But he was my best friend, he knew my secrets, my weaknesses, my strengths, he understood when I was unwell and wouldn't pull on the lead. I knew when he was off colour or needing a cuddle right up till he had to be put to sleep. I didn't even know he was unwell.

My darling dog had hidden his illness from me when I was pregnant, as if he didn't want me to worry about him.

I cried for him for days and sometimes still do. I'd lost my hero. We shared everything from bottles of water to McDonald's Happy Meals, cuddles, tears and fights.

Later on we got another dog from a stray dog shelter, a shepherd cross type collie looking old guy. I called him Dave, cause, well, he looked like a Dave. Dave was old, moth-eaten, foosty, had missing teeth and breath like a pirate and I loved him to bits. I would grimace and adore him simultaneously as he took a drink of water and dribbled water for yards as he walked away from the bowl, soaking the carpet as he went.

I loved his grey whiskers and muzzle, like he had stuck his face in an icing sugar bag.

If Dave had been human, he would've worn a sheepskin jacket, drunk pints of heavy or Newcastle Brown and had a whiskey chaser. Dave would've nipped out to the 'bookies' to put a line on and bought the 'barmaid' a magazine and a strawberry tart to look after her. He would always have been polite, very old school and not allowed any of the younger guys to swear in front of a lady.

He had many of the same traits as my 1st dog. He was perfect. A gentleman. A joy.

At some point after we got another rescue dog, she was in the same place as Dave when I found him. Bon was a bit of an accident, I really wasn't actually looking for another dog, but I saw her and my heart went out to her furry coat didn't know what to do with itself and she had a squint ear. Kicked out cause she was pregnant, she had given birth to puppies in the shelter. This had left her a bit neurotic and a bit skinny. She was young and just what Dave needed.

She gave him life and energy and he chilled her out, taught her how to behave properly, relax, play games and find a good spot in the garden to lie in.

Bon was just as devastated as us when Dave didn't return from the vets that day, she paced and slept in his favourite places, as if to get closer to him. I slept with his collar under my pillow and she slept with his blanket on the couch.

So why should I want another oldie?

I know we only had Dave for few years, but it was worth every single minute. I rescued him and he rescued me right back. He would follow me around like a shadow, lie at my side of the bed and not leave my side if I was unwell.

Dave didn't eat the couch or chew my Louboutins, he didn't cost me a fortune in vets bills, he was undemanding and understanding. Dave was excited to see us when we came in, he never answered back and never told me that my arse looked fat. I could take him anywhere and know that he wouldn't disgrace me. Kids adored him, grown ups always looked at him and said 'Awh, you've a big heart to adopt a dog that old' with their heads on the side in the pose that said they felt sorry for me. Truth is, I felt sorry for them, they didn't have Dave.

I miss Dave as much as my 1st dog. Yeah, I feel slightly cheated that we only had a couple of years together but, they were the best ever.

So in honour of Dave Shepherd, consider a rescue dog or a rescue oldie, they will still make your life complete but without all the major hassles of a puppy.