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Posts Tagged ‘dog humour’

It’s certainly not The Sound of Music around our house. In fact, it’s more like a set for Frozen. We’ve had over five feet of snow since Jan.24. This is of great concern to both of us. For different reasons.

snow storm Feb. 2015

First, I have a four foot snow limit. After that, various parts of my body start to break down. Last week it was my shoulder and the muscles that run every so lovingly over to your neck and cause gigantic spasms of pain after you have been throwing snow over said shoulder for oh…hours. This of course, does not bother Grady a bit, as long as I have one good arm with which to dish up food and hold the leash when he needs to go.

Grady’s concerns are a bit different. His primary worry is whether there is enough snow left in which to make doggie snow angels. Over and over and over. Every time he goes out. Yes, Grady. There is enough for snow angels that if placed tail to nose would encircle the earth, 400 million times. This makes him very happy. So much so, that he pretends to have to go at 2:30am, right after I have gone to bed, forcing me to stand outside in -30F weather in my pajamas while he drops, rolls, and scratches his nose on the icy bits.

His other concern is slightly more serious. Being blind, Grady has mapped the yard in his little pea brain. Six steps this way and around the tree for a stoop and poop. Except there is now a six foot bank of snow there and the tree has been buried. So when he goes out, he runs his head into the snow banks and comes out white, which is mildly amusing. Add to the changed topography of his world, an urgent need to perform the S&P, and it gets even better.

After the last storm he charged out the door, frantically searching for his beloved stooping grounds. His anxiety level was so high that he spun around several times, then backed up the snow bank until he was at a 45 degree angle, head down, and cocked his leg. Then stooped and made his deposit with leg still extended.

No, I did not have a camera. Pity. But it would likely have gotten snow in the lens as I ricocheted off the snow banks, laughing hysterically. In its place I offer this much tamer pic of him in more standard operation. Please ignore the yellow squiggles. His writing is dreadful.

snowmageddon

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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…they hear them coming before the turn signal comes on 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

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valentines




Unfortunately for me, the proposal was that I go out in the kitchen and cook some more bacon, so he could keep up his strength for the Valentine Ball, and the long list of lithsome lovelies lining up to dance with him. But I did at least get a kiss. Likely because he wanted to make sure there were no bacon crumbs on my face.

Here he is, dressed to the nines for the Blogville Ball, with his dates, Sheba and Ashley.




stella grady ash




Ever the true gentleman (coughcoughcough), Grady gifted his sweets with a few sweets for the occasion. Ash received this toothsome bag of doggie safe chocolate dipped heart cookies from treatmeright.org, where a portion of every bag goes to benefit a pet charity. In January, that charity was the Blind Dog Alliance.

ash treats




The lucky Sheba received a fabulous bag of goodies baked fresh for her, right in the UK! You too can find these luscious treats at May’s Dog Bakes.

shebas treats




And the girl’s were generous in return. He received a beautiful card from Sheba in the UK that still has the post office talking.

sheba card The card has been/sampled approve by Precious, his Birman cat pal. Or perhaps she was jealous.




Ash sent him these scrumptious treats from Road ApplesLV on Etsy. They are fabulous, and the packaging impressed Grady, who loves the crinkling sound.




ash treats




The paparazzi who follow Ash everywhere, managed to get video of them doing a retro number at the ball!




So it appears that a good time was had by all, thanks to the hard work of Mollie and Ranger and their Blogville assistants.

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I remember one of the favourite family stories about my Aunt Myrt, and the first black & white tv in the family. My parents had it, and she and my uncle would come over to watch the shows sometimes. My aunt, bless her, got hooked on wrestling. And her a good church-going middle aged lady at the time. She apparently bounced up and down on the couch and hollered at the wrestlers. Me, I couldn’t understand the attraction. Even as a small child it screamed “phony” from a mile off. So I never appreciated the “art”, if it could be called that. Until now.

Sunday I decided to groom Grady. That was mistake #1. Saying I’m going to groom him is like saying “I think I’ll mow a football field. With a push mower.” It’s a big job, no doubt because he’s a big dog. Duh. But it was a necessity brought home to me when some of the golden dust bunnies rolling around the floor, started snapping at my heels and growling.

When I had purebred show dogs, they were all trained to the grooming table, which is a heck of a lot easier on the back. But of course, Grady didn’t grow up with a silver kibble scoop in his mouth, and being blind, a table would be far too dangerous. (If he ever fell on me, I’d not get up again.) So I sat down on the floor. Mistake #2.

Grady is blind. But he’s by no means unaware of things. If I am sitting on his level, I am therefore accessible and yippee, he threw himself in my lap. As soon as I determined that my pelvis had not been fractured, I rummaged around in the bag of grooming tools and came up with rakes and combs. The touch of the first comb, set Grady off on a long, protracted session of wriggling in absolute ecstasy, punctuated with enthusiastic and very powerful kicks from his back legs.

That’s when I realized that doing this in shorts was perhaps not wise. Mistake #3. Grady’s nails don’t grow very fast or long, but they develop unholy sharp points, one of which left a 3” cut in my calf. Mind you, I hadn’t even gotten so much as a comb full of hair off his big, empty head yet, and already I wanted to quit. Pain, blood and a heavy dog in your lap are not conducive to forging onward and upward with any enthusiasm.

This is where I gained a new respect for wrestlers, especially the old timers who didn’t have all the glitz and social media hype to make them look good. Yes, what they did was faked. But at times, I’m quite sure it was faked with more than a modicum of pain. This empathic moment came to me while Grady was trying a combination of a double tuck dive and a triple axel while trying to get his head under my armpit, and his leg out of my shirt.

At the end of two sweaty hours, I conceded and Grady leapt up in great surprise that I was not interested in prolonging the fun. Actually, all I was interested in was a bath, and crawling into my recliner to whimper for a while, and admire my now glistening, neatly combed dog. From a distance.

Please don’t forget to vote for Grady in the Fido Casting Call contest. There are only a couple of days left to help him make a difference. Fido will donate one dollar for every vote he gets, until Sept.10. Help him show people that even a blind, cast-off dog has something to give.
Vote here.

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Okay, so that was a poor imitation of the Sesame Street Count, but it’s what I thought of when Grady’s latest talent surfaced.

I knew when Grady had mapped out the house in less than two hours that he was smart. And the fact that he can tell the difference between me going outside to garden, and going out to the car to drive somewhere, really floored me. Especially when he showed that he can find the car without any help whatsoever. But I never suspected he could count.

If it’s not too hot, Grady accompanies me on trips to town. He loves to ride in the car, and is very good, laying down in the backseat and never acting out. I think this stems in part from the fact that he has been so deprived of companionship, that he will do almost anything to get it, including trying to climb into the lap of unsuspecting phone repairmen.

Part of our summer routine, has been to go through a Tim Horton’s drive-thru line at the end of our excursion, during which I get an iced capp and Grady gets two plain Timbits. (Little doughnut balls.) He used to only get one, but he was such a good boy, and looked so hopeful, that now he gets two. (What can I say, I’m a pushover.)

Last week I had to head back to the vet’s to pick up some medication for his ears, so when we hit the drive-thru, I picked up his Timbits (the girls like to rattle the bag at him, to see his head perk up) but I only gave him one. There was traffic behind me and I figured I could give him the other one at the vet’s.

It was hot and humid, so we went into the office to wait, and I weighed Grady while we were there. When we finished, it was back out to the car. Grady has a very good sense of where things are and never forgets. Getting into the car is no problem at all, even though he can’t see where the door is. He touches the edge of the car, then leaps up ever so…well, almost gracefully.

Only this time, he made one fluid motion out of the jump, and then a dive between the front seats and grabbed the bag with the other Timbit. He knew there were two, and by George, he was going to have that second one! Being the strict disciplinarian that I am, I forced him to give up the bag, and snapped his seat belt harness in the lock. Then I got in, did up my own seat belt, and turned around and gave him the Timbit.

He doesn’t inhale them so much as they vanish into the black hole of his jaws. Then he smacks his lips, lays down and is perfectly happy. He never asks for more, even though he knows I have something, and may even rattle the bag. Because he knows there are only two of them. But they are HIS! And I better not forget it. Like he’d ever let me.

Beware: Timbit trap, open and ready.

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Hello our loyal friends, fellow bloggers and followers from all over the world! Please remember to vote for Grady in the Fido Casting Call contest. Every vote means a dollar to the Lions’ Guide Dog Canada program, providing seeing eye assistance for the blind. Grady himself is blind and it is fitting that he support this most worthwhile organization. In entering Grady we also hope to raise the profile of all the beautiful, but handicapped dogs who also need a home, and are not as lucky as Grady. Won’t you please add your support? You can vote once a day until Sept.10. Please share this link through your social media and friends’ networks.

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Why not? Why shouldn’t dogs leap to the heights of glory along with other athletes? Are they not physically adept? Graceful on their feet? Determined enough to focus on a single goal for their entire life? Of course they are. Although in most cases those goals are to chase the neighbour’s cat or steal anything edible they find, these minor deviations from the path of a true champion can be turned back in the right direction with a little work.

I was pondering this very thing the other day when I had Grady outside for a pee. He has style, grace and finesse, never shown more eloquently than when he’s watering the wisteria or urinating in the undergrowth. And voila, an idea was born. The Pee-Tathalon. Distance, speed, quantity, accuracy, and the artistic component: designs in snow.

In anticipation of the inaugural games, I have been putting Grady through his paces for the gruelling five component event. Since his bladder is only slightly smaller than a medieval vat of malmsey (approx. 1,000 gallons), the quantity win is a given. His ability to achieve any noteworthy distance depends on the locale of the contest, since tree branches tend to deflect his aim. We have no worry about accuracy because he can douse a mosquito in flight without even trying. The one possible bump on our road to fame and fortune is the speed portion of the competition. Grady has been known to stand in place, with stream in full flow long enough to run a marathon. Backwards. With his legs duct taped together.

When it comes to the artistic component, we’re going to wipe up the grounds with the competition. The very arch of his neck is enough to inspire rapturous tens from the judges. The majestic sweep of his tail and feathers along with a delicately poised paw, the appropriate distance off the ground and at the correct angle, pretty much has it in the bag already. We are keeping an excel spreadsheet of his progress, as I mark his efforts with each trip outside.

I really think this would fly. First, we’d have to get the AKC, CKC, IOC and other affiliated organizations on board. And they’ll want clearly defined rules and criteria as well as photos and videos. These may take me a while to supply. Grady has been somewhat uncooperative ever since I deducted half a point from his artistic score for expelling gas while he posed. I somehow doubt that tooting to “Pomp and Circumstance” will go down well with the judges.

You gotta be kidding! You took points off for what?

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Vote For Grady!!!!

Don’t forget to keep voting for Grady in the Fido Casting Call, folks! We are so grateful to our blogger, Facebook, Golden Retriever and personal friends who have put Grady into the top 100 dogs as of today. Remember that every vote means a dollar for the Lions’ Guide Dog Canada program. We are raising awareness of blindness in dogs with Grady’s campaign, and hoping that our efforts will pay dividends when someone else sees that an abandoned, handicapped dog is a treasure not to be passed up. Voting continues until Sept.10, and you can vote once a day. Share the voting site with your friends: Fido Casting Call

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Adopting Grady has turned out to be an expensive experience, replacing the many things that…disappear. So I have turned my thoughts to devising some way in which he can earn his keep.

The first and most obvious thing that came to mind was renting him out for forest fire control, due to his mega sized bladder, and his endless capacity for water as noted in The Fifty Gallon Golden. But a dog can’t stand around with his leg lifted all the time.

Then it struck me. There is a theatre group putting on a performance of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. And if there’s one thing Grady knows, it’s how to steal. Not only will he perform magnificently, they will save a fortune on the rest of the cast because they can lay off the other 39 bit players. Believe me, all they need is Grady.

Of course, this will only work with a few changes to the script. The treasure hidden in the cave for instance. They’ll need to substitute food for gold. Grady has no interest in jewels, (his own family ones having been lost recently), but if it’s edible, he can find it.

But it will have to be valuable food to make it worthy of being called treasure. Perhaps some truffles, although they wouldn’t withstand storage very long and would have to be disposed of. Grady would be glad to oblige. Maybe some Yubari melons, which might detract him from his interest in my melons, recounted in The 50 Shades of Grady. They’re a mere $26,000 a pair. (Mine were free, they came with the basic girl kit.) And to wash it down, some Kopi Luwak coffee, made from beans that have passed through the digestive tract of civet cats before washing and roasting. Given dogs’ propensity for raiding litter boxes, this should be the pinnacle of gustatory treasure for him. The only problems I foresee, is first, the cost of such delights might be more than the production could carry (although they *are* saving on 39 other actors), and second, they would be hard put to keep Grady from consuming the treasure before the curtain comes down.

We could of course use Grady’s personal treasures, but they would hardly impress an audience. The cheese sandwich he stole off the counter the first week he came to live with me. The half a banana bread that followed the sandwich a week later. And his most recent prize, a loaf of fresh, warm, just out of the oven French bread that was destined for my supper. All of which impressed Grady with their mouth watering aroma. I was less impressed when my lunch, supper and even my tea time snack vanished into the bottomless pit known as his stomach.

Maybe he could get a gig with a magician. If the tools of the trade were toothsome treats. Or how about in a remake of “It Takes a Thief”…..

The picture of innocence. Hah!

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