Once upon a time, in a small country town full of corner shops, fruit stalls and ice-cream vans, there stood a lonely little shoe shop that sold all kinds of footwear. The shopkeeper loved his work. Every morning he happily unlocked the door with an old, worn key, breathed in the smell of the fresh stock that had just arrived, arranged it on the shelves and packed away into boxes whatever shoes had not sold all year.
Among those shoes that nobody had bought for many years lived one lonely sheepskin boot. No matter how hard the shopkeeper tried to throw it out, he never managed to.
The boot was old, a bit scruffy and, on top of that, there was only one of it. The shopkeeper could not remember where the other one had gone. But there was something familiar, warm and cosy about this boot, and he just could not bring himself to put it in the bin.
The boot felt lonely and sad. He could not imagine what it was like to be pulled onto someone's foot to keep them warm on cold winter days. The little boot stood furthest of all on the shelf, behind a pile of other shoes that were smart and comfortable. In all those years, nobody had even tried it on.
At night, after the kind shopkeeper pulled on his jacket, finished his strong, fragrant cup of tea and locked up the shop, the boot suffered the most. The flashy pairs in the window began to tease him.
What an old, dusty, drab thing you are, said the comfy sandals that had only been put out on the shelf today.
Too right, lonely and not wanted by anyone, agreed the shoes with the sparkly flower-shaped buckle that shimmered in the sun.
We can't believe the boss is still keeping you here! The moths will eat you up any day now, and we could all be ruined, complained the runners with bright yellow laces.
The boot had no reply. He did not understand himself why the shop owner kept him on the shelf. He simply looked out of the window, where the moon glowed faintly, and dreamed that one day he would become needed by someone.
Weeks passed, and night followed day. The warm summer days ended and autumn arrived. New shoes came in and found their place among the few shelves in the shop. More customers started to visit. Whole families came in, choosing shoes for autumn and winter and buying summer styles on the end-of-season sale.
A boy in an equally bright yellow jacket took home a pair of the runners with the yellow laces. Right after him, a young mum bought comfy sandals for her little son, who was starting kindy this year.
A few weeks later, a gruff-looking dad with a thick beard bought his daughter those very shoes with the sparkly flower-shaped buckle.
Only our boot, standing alone on the far shelf, watched sadly as shoes were quickly and happily snapped up from the displays. In all that time, not one person had even glanced at him.
One late, wintry, bitterly cold evening, the shopkeeper, pulling an old woollen coat on over the blue jumper his wife had given him this New Year, was looking for his keys to lock the door. Suddenly, over the howl of a snowstorm, someone knocked on the window. A second later, an elderly grandad in a snow-covered coat with thick fur trim stepped inside. His nose was as red as a tomato. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he spoke to the shopkeeper:
G'day, mate. Gee, it's freezing out there today, it's nipping my eyes. The weather's really turned nasty. I need to buy some boots from you, and I need them quick. I'm in a bit of trouble.
The kind shopkeeper, who was already getting ready to head home, did not turn the grandad away:
Of course, I'll help you. I've got everything here. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. What's happened, grandad?
The grandad, smiling with his toothless grin and looking down at the boots, began to tell his story:
It's my backyard dog, Daisy. You won't believe it, mate, she chewed up my left boot. Maybe she was hungry, or maybe she just thought it was a game. Now there's a hole in it as big as my fist. And those boots were comfy and warm. You could go through the snowdrifts and clear the snow off the roof without a worry. I need new ones to keep my old feet warm.
The shopkeeper straight away started showing the old man all sorts of boots. Some long, some short, some made of felt and some made of sheep's wool. The grandad looked at everything for a long time, tried them on, turned them over in his hands, and even sniffed a few. In the end, he settled on long boots that reached up to his knees, made of camel wool. The shopkeeper named the price. The boots were very good, but they were simply too expensive for the grandad.
Disappointed, the grandad decided not to keep the kind shopkeeper any longer and to head home quickly, and try to find cheaper boots tomorrow. As he put on his hat and turned towards the door, the shopkeeper suddenly had an idea. He remembered that very old boot that had been gathering dust on his shelves for years.
Wait! I know how I can help you!
The grandad froze on the spot. Hope flickered in his eyes, mixed with a clear puzzlement at the kind shopkeeper's sudden shout. The grandad turned around, but the shopkeeper was no longer behind the counter. The kind owner, standing on a wooden chair with trembling knees, was rummaging among the shelves and blowing off the dust.
He reached into the far corner for that very lonely boot. Stretching out his hand, he grabbed it by the toe and nimbly hopped down from the chair. He took a dry cloth, wiped the boot clean, turned it over in his hands a few times to make sure it was still in one piece, and handed it to the grandad.
Here you go! It's been gathering dust for years. I can't remember where its partner went, but I just couldn't bring myself to throw it out. I thought it might come in handy one day, and now here's your chance.
The grandad looked carefully at the boot. His face lit up with joy. It was exactly the same kind of boot that Daisy had chewed up. With a trembling, wrinkled hand, the grandad held out a few coins to the shopkeeper, but he shook his head:
No, sorry. I won't take any money for that one.
But the grandad insisted. This boot, though it wasn't worth a penny, had captured the old man's heart from the very first second.
For the first time in many years of loneliness, the little boot found himself in warm, caring hands. Our boot's heart sang with joy. He had become needed and dear to someone's heart. And that is the true happiness of being needed by someone.
