We have been honoured by two of our blogging community friends, with the Leibster Award from Dog Tails Blog and The Sunshine Award from Sheba’s Life Story. Grady was so excited he climbed up a snowbank and fell down while having a pee, resulting in writing his name in what appears to be Greek letters.

Both awards ask that we pass on the love to other blogs, and respond to ten questions. Well, we thought you would get pretty bored reading all that stuff about Grady’s staff, so we’ve combined the two lists and tweaked some, and we hope that our nominees will answer them too, or create some fun facts of their own that tells others about their blogs.

Here are Grady’s responses:

What do you feel dogs never get credit for?
Our role in the things that have benefitted mankind. Take penicillin for instance. That bread never would have molded if they hadn’t been trying to hide it from the dog, and put it under the sink where the tap leaked.

What is your favourite quote?
Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read. – Groucho Marx

Write a short poem using the words catastrophe and bread
The Rottweiler was a big oaf, see
In the bread throwing contest a loaf he
Did finally send
Way around the far bend
For which he won a Cat Ass Trophy.

What would be the name of your much anticipated autobiography?
50 Shades of Grady

What was your first toy?
A cat named “Precious”. She was delicious, but I had to spit her out.

If you could have chosen your own name, what would it be?
Sir Oliver Lawrence David Farquahr-Addington, Royal Taster. Or Sir OLD FART.

What is the most important thing about you that people need to know?
I may be blind, but sight is the only thing I don’t have. I’m smart, funny, handsome, adorable, and lots of other good things. Okay, well maybe I don’t have any manners. Or idea of obedience.

What is your pet peeve?
That food is kept in cupboards. And bins. And cans that can’t be chewed open.

What is your greatest skill?
Stealing food. I’m like a kleptoanythingediblemaniac.

If you weren’t a dog, what would you want to be?
A Tim Horton’s doughnut delivery truck. Then I’d always be full of Timbits.

We pass these honours along to the following blogs who we love for the unique style and content:

And Foster Makes Five

The Adventures of Misaki

The Chronicles of Wallace and Samuel

The Blessing of Animal Companions

Wayward Dogs

Growl Tiger & Company

Adventures of a Dog Mom

Mollie and Alfie

Let it go!

Out of the nightmare of yesterday’s storm comes Grady’s “cover” of the hit song “Let It Go” from the movie, “Frozen”. Sorry, there is no audio but he is looking for a producer to let him record it. For those not familiar with the tune, we include a link below that you can bring up beside the lyrics.

pee 1

The snow glows white in the yard tonight, waiting for my hello
Pristine clean across the yard, not a single drop of yellow
I tried howling, like the swirling storm outside,
Can’t hold it in, doG knows I tried.
I’ve crossed my legs both front and back
I think my vision’s going black
For rhymes, sometimes I think I’m cursedddddd
My bladder is going to bursttttttt

Let it go, let it go
That’s just the way it is
Let it go, let it go
When a dog has got to whiz
I don’t care what leash you use
Let the stream flow on
Or next time it’ll be your leather shoes

It’s funny how some people
Think dogs can hold it half the night
Until you get in front of them and block the tv’s light
I tried barking that was a loss
Time to show them who is the boss
No wait, let’s go, I’m breaking free
I have got to peeeeeeeee

Let it go, let it go
Take a swan dive off the front stoop
Let it go, let it go,
I also have to poop
Here I sniff and here I’ll squat
The relief is great….

They’re higher beings but I hold the upper paw
When I need to go she gets up because that’s Grady’s law
She hurries to get back inside, but that’s not my goal
To annoy the hell out of her, I just stop and roll

Let it go, let it go,
A guy’s got to empty his tank
Let it go, let it go,
Write my name on a snowbank
Here I stand, all night and day

While she swears on and on
But that never bothered me anyway.

Have you ever wanted to get even so bad you could almost …taste it? So bad that it preyed on your mind night and day, so that as you’re drifting off to sleep you jerk awake again because it occurred to you that it might be possible, if….

Not out of spite, mind you. I mean the kind of revenge that is an absolute necessity, the sole purpose to your life, the pinnacle of your career as an evil being, simply because you want to get back at…whoever.

Well, ever since I got Grady, literally from the start, I have fantasized about getting even with him for stealing my lunch, dinner and often, bedtime snacks. At times the urge has been so strong that my attention would be diverted, something I found to be unwise when using a lawn tractor to mow under low hanging tree branches.

And then…like a gift from heaven, it happened. Revenge dropped right into my lap. Or more accurately, onto the floor. You see, in my fourth round with Old Man Winter in six days, I fell while shovelling and did something complicated and unspell-able to my left arm and hand. It means sometimes it works, and lots of time it doesn’t. I drop stuff. And I swear.

Yesterday, I dropped a whole bag of Pro Plan biscuits for small dogs. Aha, you say! Bet Grady was right on those. But alas, Grady was in the cone of shame, from the worst hot spot he’s had. (I digress here to thank Comfy Cone for a collar that is bearable for a blind dog.)

And so all he could do was look. And look confused. Then excited, then annoyed, then frustrated. You get the idea. And me? I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I posted it on Facebook and laughed some more while all my friends told me what a mean dog mom I was. Which made me laugh again.

I had my revenge, and nobody was going to make me feel bad about it. Except Grady. I was making a new recipe for potato puffs that required cups of mashed potatoes. I had to go downstairs so I left the bowl of mashed potatoes on the cupboard. After all, he’s in the cone, isn’t he?

When I came back upstairs and resumed all the culinary preparation I discovered the bowl was half empty. Now…who could have done that? Brandy? Not likely. She’s not much higher than a potato. The cats? They’d turn up their noses unless there was cheese in it. So employing all those detecting skills I acquired while writing mystery stories, I sleuthed all the way around the counter and found the culprit. It was Grady.

And how did I know that you ask. Because despite the cone, he was the only one in the house with mashed potatoes on his nose.

who me

Who me?

Believe it or not, there are people who just don’t understand why you would want to adopt a blind dog. So instead of explaining it over and over, I decided to put together a list of pros and cons.

PROS: You can make all kinds of faces at them, stick out your tongue, wiggle your ears, and they’ll gaze at you intently, like you’re giving an address to the United Nations.
CONS: Unfortunately, you’ll also find yourself giving them hand signals they can’t see. And they’ll look at you like you’re some kind of stupid, so you give them a cookie.

PROS: They are great advance warning systems. Relatives, neighbors, religious solicitors…he hears them coming before they put on a turn signal for your driveway.
CONS: They can also hear a gnat with flatulence who “vents” in his burrow under a mountain, ten miles away. So to get them to shut up, you give them a cookie.

PROS: When you realize that the only way your job will get better is if you die or quit, they will come to where you’re sitting in your office chair, eating everything not nailed down, and tuck their head into your chest.
CONS: The warm fuzzy moment only lasts until they realize that you did not drop anything on your shirtfront, at which time they will give you a very cold, calculating stare, despite being blind. So you go and get them a cookie.

PROS: They can’t see you naked.
CONS: But they can make you feel like they can. So you toss a cookie into another room to make them leave.

PROS: They aren’t constantly barking at things the car passes by as you drive.
CONS: You can’t get within 5 miles of Tim Horton’s because they can smell the doughnuts. That’s why you carry cookies in the ash tray – to toss one in the back so they’ll let you keep driving.

PROS: Quite often, people will not believe they are disabled.
CONS: Quite often, they won’t believe those people don’t have cookies hidden in their bodily orifices.

PROS: As a handicapped dog, your vet clinic always has time for them.
CONS: And the first thing they say when you arrive is that it’s time to cut back on the cookies.

yes me

One Direction

As pretty much everyone under, oh…90 knows, One Direction is a pop boy group, with five members. But who needs imports when I have my own one direction phenomenon right here at home, and boy, would I like to pop him one!

For a blind dog, Grady has amazing abilities to locate things. Like turkey stuffing. Or his favourite ball. No doubt his hearing skills have been honed by his disability and his sniffing prowess increased when he was abandoned on the streets and had to find his own food.
But his ability to understand directions is roughly on a par with a turnip. And a stubborn one at that.

Okay, I take that back. It’s not so much he can’t understand, because I expect he does. All too well. It’s his unwillingness to comply that is so….annoying. He basically follows one direction: his own.

A snarl of “Move!” which would send the cats streaking across the room might at best make him turn his head to see if perhaps I said “Moo” and was about to take a roast out of the oven. “Off!” he apparently interprets as a request to lavish even more love on visitors because gosh, their laps are empty and just calling his name. So you can understand why I attribute tonight’s little incident to Grady’s twisted sense of humour.

Grady has been taught when we come back in the house that he will “Turn!” and “Sit!” Well…yes, he turned. So that he faced away from me. Then he sat down while I called him several names and questioned his parentage and the legality of their union. Upon which he would tilt his head up, look over his shoulder, and laugh. I know he was. His tongue was stuck out.

He did, albeit begrudgingly, turn and face the *right* direction after I suggested that Dentastix and other treats might soon be in short supply. Then unleashed, he dashed up the stairs and threw himself on the couch for an ecstatic rolling session. I didn’t even bother with “Down!”

back 1

Thanks for nothing!

Thanks for nothing, Grady.

Do you know what this is? It is a bowl. Moreover it is the bowl in which I *always* make my holiday turkey stuffing.


Do you see any stuffing? No. Why is that, one might wonder. Because on Friday, Grady ate almost an entire loaf of gently aged bread, torn into little shreds the way my father always did it.

close face
Who me?

I had too much in my hands to carry downstairs to the laundry room where it might be safe from thieving animals, but I forgot it. And while stowing away everything else I heard the tiniest disturbance upstairs. I dashed up the stairs as fast as one natural and one artificial knee will take you, to find the bowl on the floor, and my stuffing, nowhere to be seen.

I hear some of you worrying. Did it make him sick? Not a bit. Even though he had a large drink of water afterwards. I took away the fountain for several hours, during which Grady lay on the floor in a food coma. He didn’t even get up when I got Brandy food for supper, which he had already had. Along with his other meals for the next week.

As a consequence of this unspeakable act, I had to go to the store and buy another loaf of dog food.

Today we dined on this.


Grady did not.

The War of the Noses

In English history one of the great battles for power lasted for over a hundred years, with two great houses fighting for the right to sit upon the throne. In my house, it just seems like the fight has lasted that long, because Brandy has only been here four months. And they’re not exactly fighting, nor is their goal a throne. It’s me. And their noses are in a permanent state of out-of-jointness.

Apparently I must not be allowed to pet, kiss, fondle, feed, sneeze or even look at the other one, without the second being present. Preferably under my feet, or with their nose up my butt. Okay, so that is only Grady. Brandy’s nose is in my shoe.

There is no galloping down the field of honour in armour, pennants waving. It’s more of a charge down the stairs and fall over yourself because she might be taking the other one outside, and no doubt they are getting all kinds of gourmet treats and goodies.

I am not allowed to go down the stairs alone, they must both come. And even though I hitch up one to a leash and tell the other to go upstairs (which they do), they come right back down the second the door opens. And until we return, there is either a large golden behind pressing against the door, or a black nose making periodic appearances above the bottom of the door as Brandy tries to see what he’s getting that she isn’t.

Thus goeth my days. Even in my office chair, I have Brandy under my feet and Grady’s nose in my armpit. He apparently finds Lady Schick Baby Powder formula deodorant, very heady. In the kitchen it’s a nose above the countertop with one eye on my lunch and the other on me, which is quite a trick for a blind dog, I can tell you. Brandy stares at my ankle, but she’s sure Grady is going to get the lunch. And I thought I was getting claustrophobic because the cats won’t let me go to the bathroom alone.


See? All I had to do was *think* about getting up out of my chair and they’re already on the move. I’m beginning to wonder if I have a tracking device in my clothes. Next time I want to take them out, I’ll strip first. I figure that way they won’t want to be seen with me.

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