Ah, that footwear looks bright and new. Claws have created masterpieces from dresses and pants, but the cabbage from those shoes will def my bed enhance.
Rubbing myself against your leg will win your trust and amore. Then, fooled by my mercurial soul, attack will commence once your soles are left by door.
My paw pins are freshly pointed and may even be coeval with the lace tips on your sneaks, a sign of fate, I believe, that our first embrace will passionate scars wreak.
Bother not a search for an entity to blame for magic that turned tennie to sandal. Especially, do not look in the laundry room’s manway; there might be sights there your sensitive mind cannot handle. ; )