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!”