CowboyBootStories.Com

One night i gave a pair of boots away, to a stranger that i never knew. I told him if he ever has a pair that does not fit him he should PASS it.
2 years Later.
I recived a pair of boots from a stranger that i had never seen. He told me “Please pass this cowboy legend, If you have a pair that does not fit anymore please PASS It.
Kindness is Contagious!

i’ve been looking for a pair of baukaroo western dress boots with a riding heel and found a pair of black tony lamas but i had to wait 2months and i was waring a hole in my old boots when i got my boots they fit but they didnt have the heal i just got them back and they put the right heel on and i wore them to church and i ran in them n problen and there realy comferabal and ther good for runnin through creeks aswell but tey need resoled they had the four inch riding heel but i dont have the money to buy new boots so i mite get thees redone

One evening i come home and mud was tracked through my house. We had no idea where it come from. Later that evening i got ready to go out i found everything except for my boots and a electric razor. They left my brand new pistol but took my favorite boots. They was Tony Lama soft black pull ons (the ones that fall over when you take them off.) and i still miss those. So i guess everybody wants a pair of boots. No matter what it takes to get them.

Jason Wilson has now won 2 pair of cowboy boots from Boot City.

We are going to add a rule that you can only win once in a 180 day period to give some other folks a chance. Good job Jason. You know the drill. Check your email for instructions on claiming your cowboy boots.

How funny when people always say mom is always right. COmes to prove there’s nothing that could be farther than the trut h. We just traveled to San Marcos to visit my aunt but before visiting her I definitly wouldn’t stop nagging about the boots I needed and wanted to buy. I had borrowed a pair from my aunt for a couple of months because I hadn’t found the perfect pair for me. So finally the wear and tear of the old boots could be spotted from down the halls of our junior high hall. Well, Back to the story. I complainted for 3 1/2 hours how I wanted to buy a pair of boots. Mom finally stopped shopping and drove to the nearest western store and as I walked in I was drawn to the a pair of peanut colored boots. Wow! I had to have them. I tried them on, they fit extremely big- BIGGGGGGGGG! but I was deteremined to have them. Mom said they looked big and kinda funny but being the last pair I knew I would finally grow into them, at least one of these days- in the near future. My mom finally agreed to pay them since I had recieved my lamb sales money that previous Tuesday. Boy! now I knew money didn’t grow on trees. These boots deserved all the hard work and dedication I had put in to making my 4-H lamb sale a success. I walked out all smiles but a little doubt knowing that I probably couldn’t wear my boots for a least 6 more months, until I finally grew into them. Well, at least they were mine. THe next morning I proudly showed everyone my oversized boots and with lots of doubtful looks I knew something was wrong. I quietly took off my dream boots and asked my mother to go return them. We called several Austin and San Antonio area western stores but none of them had them. Why, was everything turning out so wrong. Well, I took the boots back home and realized they would be stuck in their box for the next century-( sarcasm). Driving back to my home town, we stopped at a western store in San ANtonio and as I walked in I was quickly drawn to a young sales lady and an older man who came to my rescue. They searched top to bottom and side to side and FINALLY there they were the exact pair , color and size I needed. I ran to the truck to get the other pair and returned them for these new and PERFECT boots. I couldn’t be happier realizing that mom seems to always be right but sometimes I must be persistent for things to be perfect!

When I was sixteen years old I developed a “drug” problem, my mom and dad kept dragging me to church! That is a joke for those of you who didn’t get it. Anyway, we attended a small church of about 50 people. There was a man in our church who was small in stature and always dressed in western attire. He always had a bit of a dirty appearance and a handshake that would bring you to your knees. His hands were worn and rugged and he always looked as if he had just finished up a hard day’s work. Sometimes I would smell a little hint of body odor on him. He reminded me of “real cowboy”. As a teenager I felt a little uneasy being around him, (teens seem to be a little too judgmental over appearances.), but when he smiled he would light up the entire room and all of those barriers were broken. He had a way of making you feel as if you were the only one in the room and you were the king. His wife was plain looking and very sweet. She was one of those few people that seemed to drip with love. As a teenager in the 1980’s I was always fashionable with the latest western styles. I always had on my new brush popper shirts and Tony Lama bull hides for church. After church during our ritual handshaking this old cowboy would shake my hand and look at my boots and always say, “you gotta keep the toes scuffed.” For many years I thought he was talking about working hard. You see I would return the favor and look at his boots that had seemingly irreparable scuffs on the toes of his boots. I never said it but thought “I would never wear boots like that”. Several times he and his wife invited me to their home and I am sad to say that despite living only a few miles away I never made the trip. Years went by and I went off to college. I returned home to marry to my preacher’s daughter. I spent several more years chasing bad guys working as a police officer. About eleven years ago I finally surrender to the Lord and accepted my calling to preach. Two years later the Lord moved me back home where we started a church in my hometown. I never forgot this old cowboy but had not spoken to him for years. I heard that his wife had passed away a year before my returning home. He was struggling to keep the ranch going alone. One day I decided to finally take him up on his offer to come by. Driving there in my old Ford I wondered if he would remember me. I thought about the things I could say and after some thought I figured out that I was gonna ask him, “have you kept the toes scuffed?” Little did I know what the Lord was fixing to show me! Pulling into the drive past the old corrals I noticed the lawn was grown up and the house was in need of some repairs. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I thought I could hear someone talking in the old barn behind the house. As I started toward the barn I thought it was the radio, but as I approached I recognized his voice coming from the barn. The closer I got the more I could make out what was being said. In heard this old cowboy thanking God for his blessings and thanking God for those who had been a blessing to him. He prayed for the church and asked God to bless them, never once asking anything for himself. Then I heard him say something that shocked me! He began to ask the Lord to bless me! Then he said my name! I did not want to disturb him but could not help from glancing into the barn. There he was kneeling down in the gravel and dirt praying. I could not help but notice the toes of his boots were buried deep into the dirt and gravel and then it hit me, “you gotta keep the toes scuffed”!

There is a young man named Shawn who saved his grandfather’s (Bampa) western boots so that he could wear them when he grew up. When Shawn was barely 3 years old he would put his feet into the boots (with a little help) and ask his Bampa if they fit now. His grandfather would tell him that when he grew up a little bit more, he would fit into the boots. He loved his Bampa - went fishing, riding, boating, and even picking wild mushrooms in the woods with him. In the spring, on March 15, the two of them would plant peas in the garden. When the peas were ready to be picked Bampa and Shawn would stand in the garden and eat them as they picked the peas. Shawn also wanted to be a hunter like Bampa when he grew up.

Unfortunately Shawn never got to show his Bampa that the cowboy boots finally fit. His beloved Bampa died the year Shawn turned 7 years old. The boots are now worn out and do not fit any more. Shawn now would like to have another pair of boots just like his grandfather did - rattle snake style! But Shawn is now 14 years old and no longer a little boy waiting to fit into a size 9 - he is now a size 11 boot! Shawn is doing chores so he can earn enough money to buy a “real” rattle snake pair of boots.

I had a pair of Tony Lama Work Cowboy Boots and they were without a doubt the Best Boots Anywhere! They were tan in color. The quality was unsurpassed as I have had others and they do not compare!
I was sitting in a coffee shop one evening talking to some friends and a motorcycle guy came in. He was 6 feet 2 inches and as he walked by me he stopped, looked at my Lama Boots and said “There’s a Real pair of Cowboy Boots!”
That was when they were about 4 or 5 years old and when I cleaned them they easily looked almost new again. Unfortunately, I lost them somewhere.
They are the best!

When my daughter was approaching her 4th birthday I ask her what she would like for her birthday. “I want cowboy boots and the clothes that goes with them.” I quizzed her to see if she meant jeans, etc. No she had watched a rodeo with us and she wanted the western wear the girls wore in the parade and cowboy boots.

We lived in San Antonio, Tx at the time and so there was no problem getting, this very feminine, lace and ruffle girl, cowboy boots and western wear.

She did receive her boots for her birthday and loved them. She would not take them off. No problem until Sunday. I went to dress her for Sunday School and allowed her to pick out her dress. She picked out a beautiful full skirted dress with ruffled slip….very “girly”. Then I started to put her fancy socks on and she said “no Mommy, my boots will hurt with those socks.” I explained we don’t wear boots with our nice Sunday Dresses. we wear those with our jeans. “Not today Mommy, today we wear our boots with our nice Sunday dress.” And she did!!!

I grew up in New York. Manhattan to be exact. Not the boot capital of the world. And for sure not the cowboy boot capital. I’ve been wearing cowboy boots my whole life. This is the oldest photo of me in cowboy boots. From 1961. I can’t remember what brand they are, but I’ve grown rather fond of Tony Lamas over the years. That little girl next to me is the daughter of my dad’s best friend. About a year and a half ago we reconnected - both divorced now. I’m still wearing cowboy boots…and we’re holding hands again. But now we’re tall enough to kiss.