MY LEFT FOOT, OR WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUR PHEROMONES?

Recently, a dachshund puppy joined our household.  Like all puppies, Chance loves to chew whatever he can get his little jaws around.  He has sampled toys, logs for the fireplace, furniture legs, underwear, the kittens outside, and an occasional finger.  However, his favorite things by far are my shoes, or more specifically my left shoes.  For a few days before I could get into town, I stumbled around the house in two right house-shoes (one blue and one pink) because he had chewed apart both of the left ones.  He never takes anyone else's shoes and rarely a right shoe.  When he does get a right shoe, I honestly think it is by mistake because he quickly abandons it and goes in search of its companion.  At first I thought my left foot must be so olfactorily offensive, he felt compelled to destroy the source.  However, Chance seems to think this a compliment.  He always presents his work proudly.  What's up with that?

Ostensibly, the dog was for my nephew.  In reality as with any 16-year-old, flirting on the phone with the love of the week was much more fun than housebreaking an unruly puppy.  Aunt C-Jo inherited the housebreaking, feeding, walking, and general discipline of Sir Chance-a-lot (he will try his luck at anything at least once).  You would think that out of a household of five people, I would be the one that dog avoids.  After all, I have lost my temper and yelled.  I have swatted his bottom on occasion for nipping.  I have even chased him around the house including moving furniture to force him to go out when it is raining (oh, the torture for poor Chance). 

So why I am I the one he follows, who has to hold him when he gets tired, whose shoes he cherishes?  Is there a heretofore unrecognized magic to my left foot?  Through some quirk of physiology, do my pheromones stop at the left ankle?  Is this why my longest running relationship is with my library card?  After so many years, have I finally found the secret to having men fall at my feet, er . . . foot??? Should I be making up excuses to get that bachelor at church to smell my left foot?  How would I even do that?  Drop a hankie and then quickly shove my foot in his face when he bends to pick it up?  Do women even still carry hankies or men even pick up them up anymore?  Somehow, I can't quite picture a romance novel where the hunky gazillionaire falls for a left foot - and if he did, would that make him a hunky gazillionaire pervert?

Cynthia