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Archive for November, 2012

Dear Grady:

I know you’re blind, and I cut you a lot of slack for that, even when you have convinced the pet store manager that you can see. But you seem to have a little case of species confusion.

I mean, I can understand if something squeaks like a duck, you therefore assume it is your duck and go about your usual routine of throwing it up in the air, wigging it back and forth and running around in circles with it flapping from your jaws.

The problem though, is the duck you grabbed this morning, was not a duck. It was Precious. She is not a duck. Precious is a kitten.

This is your dilapidated duck.

duck




This is your kitten/Precious
precious silly


Do you see the difference? Alright, so you can’t see it, and I know they likely smell the same since they both spend most of the time on your bed with you, but really…one has wings and the other has claws. How hard can it be to tell them apart?

So you see, (yes, I know you can’t, it’s just an expression) the next time you run up the stairs in an excessive display of joie de vivre, and grab the nearest soft, fat thing (sorry Precious), you need to stop just for a nano second and think. I know this is likely difficult for you, but it doesn’t take very long to figure out whether what is in your mouth is a stuffed toy or a live, and annoyed kitten, even if she also squeaks.

You can do it, I know you can! Why? Because I saw the vaguely confused look on your face this morning when you spit her out.

(It should be noted that no kittens were harmed in the making of this blog post. He did drop her as soon as he realized his duck was more vocal than usual. )

Count your lucky stars that all is forgiven

Grady and Precious

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Photo ops come along so seldom. It all depends on whether my son is visiting, Grady is willing to cooperate, and I honestly think the phase of the moon has something to do with it. So when Michael came down for dinner on Sunday and sat down on the couch, I grabbed the camera, ready to capture the perfect photo.

But first they had to get into position

And Grady tried out at least 129 positions.

But he couldn’t quite get Michael posed the way he wanted him. Nor could I keep my fingers out of the way.

Then miracle of miracles, somewhere between the head stands and the whirlidog spins, we got this.

Then you have the boys will be boys moments, whether they have two legs or four.

Which quickly becomes another wriggling match.

During which we get one more prize picture

Before the whole session turns into “Twilight – Breaking Bones, Part 1”

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Happy Thanksgiving!

May all our U.S. friends have a fabulous day full of fun, family and food, and may our friends in other lands enjoy the same. Grady was very disappointed there was no turkey here. I explained that he’s a Canadian now, and not an American,but he tried to claim dual citizenship.

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Fashion faux paw?

Or cross dressing?

Grady is an amazingly patient animal, given that he can’t see what is being done to him, or what is going on. But there are times I almost agree with my son’s smart aleck remark about the Halloween costume. (“It’s a good thing he’s blind and can’t see himself”.)

Since the nightmare of his tumour removal and the subsequent hysteria from itching, things have not been too bad. Then he developed a hot spot last week and we were off and running again. What to do? Well, the cone was not our first choice. So I decided to try what had worked…somewhat, the last time. Panties.

Yes, he wore two pairs of my panties. Sorry, no pictures. I just couldn’t bring myself to embarrass him in front of his doggie blogger friends. But you’d be surprised what two pairs of panties with a slit in the seat for his tail, could do. With a diaper pin to keep the waistband tight around him, they covered his buttock where the surgery was. So surely it would work for a hotspot on his back, just above and to the left of his tail.

For a day or two, with liberal doses of prednisone, he minced his way around the house in white cotton, full cut panties. Then as his prednisone was being tapered off and the spot was drying out…he broke out in another spot. Either this one was more serious or someone had pointed out what a dog in panties looked like. He began shoving them down and getting at the spot anyway.
That’s when I had my second not-so-brilliant idea. Spanx.

An old pair of spanx, with the legs cut off and a slit in the seat for his tail. Put them on over the panties and we should be homefree. Right? Wrong. He now minced around the house with a sort of springy gate, likely due to the elastic properties of the spanx. And he licked. And licked and licked and licked. So much, that the spanx and panties got wet, and the movement of the material rubbed the scab off the hot spot.

And so we had to resort to the device from hell – the plastic cone. Once more I am treated to him bouncing off the walls, knocking things over, and using the cone as a canteen, in which to carry water from his fountain into other rooms.

But he no longer minces. As for me, I’m looking at trying one of the Comfy Collars for his little problem. Then we’ll look into a doggy psychiatrist for his bigger problem. I caught him looking at the Victoria’s Secrets web site. Yes, he is blind. Go figure.

At least his BFF still loves him, even if he is a conehead.

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Seven Things About Me!

Grady would like to thank the academy of two (Wally&Sammy) who gave him the Seven Things About Me award for the record of how he torments me on a daily basis, otherwise known as The Grady Report. He was thrilled, even after he learned awards are not edible. So we will carry on their wisdom and pass it on to one blog, who in turn can send it to up to 7 other deserving blogs.
And that blog is Finn! Because you can never know too much about the fabulous and fun Finn!

Now, for the seven things you don’t know about us…

1.Grady has a sense of humour. Yes, he does. Find out just how twisted it is here.

2.He can count! Never try to do him out of a second timbit.

3. He has the largest bladder in dogdom. (Perhaps TMI, but true.)

4. Grady knows the difference between me going outside to garden and going out in the car.

5. Bananas are likely the only edible thing he won’t eat.

6. His BFF is a cat. Actually, several cats.

7. His personal slave is a social media consultant, and author of the Purrlock Holmes, middle grade mystery novels.

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