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The Night Before Christmas

(With apologies to Clement Clark Moore)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Snoring was heard from each eggnog souse.
The stockings were hung on nails way up high,
Far above furballs who think they can fly.

The cats had all snuggled down in my bed,
Where visions of ornaments danced in their heads.
Left with six inches of mattress, onto it I leap,
With the mistaken idea that I was going to sleep.

leandro under the tree

Ten seconds later a bellowing moose
Caused a scattering of cats as all Hell broke loose.
I dashed for the door, being somewhat bold,
Tripped over Grady and knocked myself cold.

It was like a convention, out there on the lawn,
Three rabbits, a racoon, two does and a fawn.
The volume of laughing, rose and then sunk
Santa and crew had run over the skunk.

Things had got ugly, and Santa he swore,
This would be his last trip to our house, he’d come back no more.
The wee creatures’ eyes grew with each new term they heard ,
Rudolph was texting his union steward.

The reindeer argued and pointed at Vixen,
Who blushed and admitted she was pregnant by Blitzen.
Santa snarled at the team and up they all flew
I think it might have been the threat of a stew.

With a mighty leap, through the sky they were rushing,
To toots that showed someone’s intestines need flushing.
The sled and the toys, and the fat gentleman too,
Arrived on the roof to applause from the zoo.

The cats were all clamoring, anticipating some nip,
As I limped back inside, thinking of a new hip.
“Wait just a minute!” Santa growled an aside,
“Who put the damn chimney on the outside?”

He slid down the bricks, filling the night,
With an odeur that said he might have worn black and white.
The aroma followed him in through the door,
Where he didn’t see the hairball on the floor.

He flew into the air, his feet kicking and wiggling,
I’d type what he said if I could only stop giggling.
His acrobatics were surely the high point of the day,
And seldom seen outside Cirque du Soleil.

He rose with a groan and dragged open the sack,
With a mutter about how he’d never come back.
Stockings were stuffed, and he was this close to done,
When Grady barrelled into him at a full run.

waiting for Santa

To say he went ass over tea kettle would be quite understated,
And the words that he said were certainly X-rated.
He was giving the poor dog an angry ‘what-for’
As Grady slid between his legs and began to explore.

Santa’s armpits were empty, his bellybutton likewise,
Ditto his ears, his butt and his thighs.
Up one down the other side of Santa he races,
Grady was looking for food in all the wrong places.

“Let me out of here!” Santa screamed, out the door in good time,
He whipped up the reindeer who turned on a dime.
And we heard him exclaim as he flew towards Dover,
“You’ll see me back here when this damn place freezes over!”

tree 2

On behalf of Grady, I would like to wish our wonderful friends and followers, a Merry Christmas, and a joyous New Year, and share with you some exciting news. Grady’s blog has been nominated in two categories of the Dog Writer’s Association Awards, one for dog blog, and one in the humour category, for the article “Revenge is Sweet”. No matter the outcome, we are honoured by the nominations and grateful to the two rescues without whom there would be no Grady and no blog. God Bless us all, every one.

The Conspiracy

Is there really life on Mars as evidenced by the 1976 photos showing a sphinx, a pyramid and a Neanderthal Kardashian? Did Shakespeare’s works actually pay for the eggs to go with Francis’ bacon? These mysteries are among the world’s great conspiracies, but none of them can hold a candle to the underworld undermining of authority that is going on right here.

It started with the Case of the Vanishing Kaiser Rolls. The ones that were carefully pushed to the back of the top of the microwave where even a long-bodied, long-legged dog can’t reach. Thanks to some top-notch detective work, and needing to tie my shoe, the lost were found. Kind of. It was more a case of the “remains”, which consisted of part of the plastic bag and copious crumbs underneath the dining room table.

The first thing armchair detectives should know, is that the table is up against the kitchen counter that divides these two miniscule areas of the house, and the microwave is against the wall on the end of the counter. Ergo, there is no way the bag could have fallen onto the floor. Fortunately, due to past transgressions, it was pretty clear who was responsible for the disappearance. What wasn’t clear was how he got hold of them. It was clear however, that a dietary change was in order, as plastic has very little nutritional value.

Skip forward several days, and the happenstance that my footsteps were relatively quiet, and another theft was in progress. Walla, as the French say. The thief is caught. Or at least identified, since his four feet are much faster than my two, and he vanished quicker than the rolls.

The evidence:




chewed roll





The perpetrator:




On guard





The package had been chewed through by none other than the new kid on the block, Leandro. But it still did not explain how Grady joined in the feast. That revelation came the next day when once more, I forgot to put the rolls inside the microwave, and they were pillaged again. I came around the corner just in time to find Leandro dragging the bag (which had already been chewed) across the counter and dropping it on the floor, right in front of Grady. The plundering continued amidst language not fit for a blog of this high calibre.

Now, the question was: how to put a stop to this? That turned out not to be as simple as putting the rolls away. Because first, I forget to do that. Frequently. And Leandro’s tastes are not limited to rolls. He also enjoys crackers, cake, dried fruit, and basically anything edible that is not inside a locked vault. Grady also enjoys these things. Quite often, thanks to Leandro.

The accomplice/beneficiary of the crime:




fart 1
I’m innocent Your Honour, and I have witnesses!





One thing Leandro does not appear to appreciate, is hard dog biscuits. That doesn’t mean he leaves them where they are found. Far from it. To date, he has been caught on my desk with a paw on the shelf overhead, pushing treats off onto the floor. Then on the kitchen table, where he showed himself a dab hand/paw at shoving biscuits across the smooth surface and into the gaping jaws of Grady. It’s a shame there are no Cat Olympics. He’d have the curling gold medal in the bag.

The Fountain of Youth

Grady has discovered the fountain of youth. Which is really a Pioneer pet fountain. Big Max, to be exact.

How do I know this, you ask. Because Grady went to the vet last week. The vet, being a man of wisdom and not inconsiderable experience, looked at the white creeping up over the doggy noggin and said “How old is he now?” Well, we don’t know for sure because when the unknown scum tossed him out on the streets to starve, there was no note attached. You know, “This is my baby, I can’t keep him anymore. He’s 10 years old and will eat anything.” All Grady had when he was taken in by Animal Control, was a matted coat, ribs sticking out, and eyes that could no longer see. It was *thought* he might be ten. And that being two years ago, my superior math skills tell me that he *might* now be twelve. And might not. Ten at least, that’s what we settled on.

Grady was there because his right eye, still beautiful even without sight, has become more opaque of late. He also has cataracts, so it behooves Mama to keep a close eye on changes like this. The vet agreed. Then he tried to examine Grady. And that’s where it started.

On the first attempt, Grady dove under the vet’s arm and pretty much down the front of his V-neck surgical top. After we extracted and lectured him, he sat back calmly with that alert, “I’m on board with you” expression which can only mean disaster. Let’s just say the vet got a real good look in his ear, and could verify that no, Grady no longer had any testicles.

I’ve never played Twister with a dog before. It’s rather like doing yoga with an octopus hyped up on speed. Only I was never quite sure whether on the next WWF move, I would end up face to face with Grady or lying on the floor being told to “sit, stay!”

As the examination progressed, the vet’s assessment of Grady’s age started to drop. After Round 1, he posited that for an old dog, he was in pretty darn good shape. He didn’t have enough breath for any more comments until after Round 4 when I heard him mutter that he’d known young dogs that weren’t that flexible. By the time we were on the home stretch, he announced that ten week old puppies weren’t that lively. The muffled giggles and snorts coming from the other side of the examining room door where his wife sat at the desk went unremarked.

We left with the good news that there is nothing seriously wrong with his eye. And also that the vet could get an early appointment with his chiropractor.

I don't always

Master of the house

Happiness is Grady on a roll, to music that is amazingly appropriate.

Happy Gotcha Day

What is two years, besides 24 months, 730 days, and eight seasons? Well, in our case, it meant the following:

-Grady produced 4,821 gallons of pee. Never mind the alchemy of creating gold, I’d be rich if I could have converted all that to gas, given the price.

-He stole part of, if not the entire menu of at least 730 meals not meant for him. His diet consisted of cheese sandwiches, frozen pizza pockets, an entire loaf of Italian bread, all the dried bread to stuff a 16 lb. turkey, and half a large bowl of mashed potatoes, while wearing a Comfy Cone. You could also load at least two cargo ships full of the bananas he has eaten, skins and all. The grocery clerks are used to me buying twice what I really need, so I at least get some of them.

-The destruction of 127 squeaky toys, some in record time, like the mini football that lasted only two small town blocks from one parking lot to the next.

-Answering a thousand questions about why I would want a blind dog. Some of them were even intelligent.

-Convincing a thousand people that he really is blind.

-Trying not to vaporize people with “the look” after they suggested I either board him or give him away when I had knee replacement surgery.

-Watching Grady mistake cats for live squeaky toys, then watching them play. And play and play and play.

-Waiting in the drive-thru line at Tim Horton’s for two plain timbits, and trying to convince him there was only one in the bag. Then buying a whole box to freeze in the winter when we couldn’t get to town.

-Learning how to adjust my heart rate downwards when he leaps up to bark at nothing. At 2am. Granted, his hearing is more acute because he is blind, but he takes it as a personal affront every time a mosquito farts. Ten miles away.

-Learning that expression is not just in the eyes, but in the heart and soul. Even for a dog.

-Discovering that security for an abandoned, hungry dog can be something as simple as a cold nose in the face at 4am, so he can lie down again and know that you haven’t left.

-Endless laughter. Every day, no matter how bleak, how busy, or what stresses it brought, he has made me laugh. Whether it’s his goofy expressions, his apocalyptic attacks on squeaky toys, or the oh so smooth and subtle attempts to purloin my dinner, you can’t help but smile. And he knows it.

So Happy Gotcha Day, Grady. And thank you Sally Lennox of GRR-CNY and Betsy Sommers of Peppertree.org for taking a chance on Grady. And on me.





gotcha day

naptime


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.





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