Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Grady’

Case 1990234 ½, the People vs. Grady
Charge: That one Grady the dog, with malicious intent and malice aforethought (possibly a fifththought too), did render limb from limb and totally lifeless, one stuffed Clifford the dog.
I.B. de Judge, presiding.
F. Lea Bailey, defense attorney
Court already in session. Evidence presentation.



Exhibit A
clifford 1
With all due respect Your Honour, that only shows that my client was at the scene of the crime. He was doing his best to sniff out the perpetrator.


Exhibit B
clifford 2
He was NOT attacking the victim! My client was giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation.


Exhibit C
clifford 3
He was calling for back up from the EMTs Your Honour. He was not chewing anything.


Exhibit D
clifford 4
We realize this looks suspicious Your Honour, but my client was deeply, deeply upset that the victim was DOA (destuffed on arrival).


May I approach the bench with my client and have him examine the body of the deceased, Your Honour? Thank you. Wait! Grady! Grady, come back here with that damn thing!

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

As hard as it is to believe, Grady and I have been an “item” for three years as of June 17, 2015. It’s been…well, an experience. I wouldn’t classify it as a roller coaster ride. More like a train wreck on an icy plateau over a 1,000 ft. chasm.

It did make me wonder though, what else I could have been doing for the last three years.

I could have walked ruffly 30% of the way around the world.
I could have learned several new languages.
I could have become a gourmet cook/chef.
I could have knitted approximately 50 bed size afghans.
I could have written a parallel universe version of 50 Shades of Grey
I could have gone to a big university and studied psychiatry.

So why didn’t I? Well, it’s like this.

Grady would have loved the walks but I’m not sure he can swim, and seriously doubt he would be willing to fetch me out of the Dead Sea when I reached the 30%.
Grady has heard several languages out of me, with an astounding list of sub-dialects. Every time he steals my lunch, my dinner, ingredients for a dish meant for company….
Grady likes my cooking just fine. I apparently make the best cheese sandwich known to man, and my rolls are totally worth stealing. Just ask the cat that steals them for him.
Grady sheds enough hair for 100 afghans. And I can’t knit.
Grady has already supplied a better story in 50 Shades of Grady.
Grady provides enough material to confuzzle Jung, Freud and Pavlov. And he doesn’t charge an arm and a leg for tuition.

Thanks to Grady I have home schooled myself in everything from psychology to finding inner pieces (and putting them all back together to form one. Ohmmm.) It wouldn’t have been half as entertaining without a cold nose down my shirt front or stuck in my ear at Tim Horton’s.





pose 1 B

Read Full Post »

Dear Scotts, purveyors of fine suet cakes that are being gobbled at the speed of light by flocks of mooching nuthatches, woodpeckers, chickadees and other assorted feathered friends:

I have a complaint.

red poll finches

I want to know just what is it you put in your bird food that creates more methane than a dozen herd of cows when it’s eaten by a collection of birds that would not match a cow’s hoof in size or weight. How do I know they fart? Well, I’m going to tell you. And I’m so glad you asked.

I’m sure you understand that a dog’s hearing is far superior to a human’s. Perhaps you are unaware though, that a blind dog’s hearing is…well, extraordinary. They, or Grady specifically, can hear trays of Timbits being taken out of the oven, 23 miles away. So hearing birds expel gas is child’s play to him. The hearing is not the problem. It is the barking.

Grady lays in front of the patio door, unaware of just why the cats are chirping and salivating all over his bed. He couldn’t care less, since his olfactory skills also tell him that it’s not food they are excited about. It’s the birds out on the patio, shovelling up the seed into their pointy little beaks. Grady of course, can’t see them. Out of sight, out of mind. And the barking is driving me out of mine.

It’s not like he barks at every little noise. He takes no notice at all of screaming Blue Jays, Chickadees and cats hitting the patio door (from opposite sides). Not a hair does he turn when I stub my toes on the treadmill at 4am on my way to the bathroom. But when all things are quiet, and even my pretty good hearing detects nothing that sounds like someone is using explosives to breach the door and steal our Dentastix, he goes ballistic. This of course sets off Stage 2 ballistics from Brandy, who possibly can’t hear birds breaking wind, but if Grady barks, by doG, she’ll bark until he stops. And then bark some more to make sure the birds know that they better stop that right now. The suddenness of said barking scares the living crap out of me.

Since Grady is usually right by the Seed Smorgasbord out on the deck, it has to be the birds. I would posit that it was the cracking of sunflower seed shells, but it happens when the only thing being consumed is bits of fruit or microscopic seeds. And given the speed at which these little feathered fiends ingest said material, they have got to have gas.

I would appreciate it if you could start coating your products in Gas-X or some other animal friendly fart-reducing substance. My nerves can’t stand much more.




cold canadian dogs



The bark brigade, defending hearth and home from farting feathered friends.

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

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.





Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Cupcake Speaks

Living with a children's author isn't as easy as it looks!

Jane Austen's World

This Jane Austen blog brings Jane Austen, her novels, and the Regency Period alive through food, dress, social customs, and other 19th C. historical details related to this topic.

Ben's Bitter Blog

"We make bitter better."

writetowag

All things Cairn...Snapshots of my Cairn Terrier, Trev & Caring For Your Senior Dog

Growl Tiger & Co.

A fuzzy lion and his shenanigans

The Blessing of Animal Companions

Reflections on living with and caring for animals

TWOspoiledcats

Angel Sammy and Teddy

thek9harperlee

Reflections of a Golden Retriever Named Harper Lee

Dream Big, Bark Loudly

Pet parenting, animal advocacy, and life with a ditzy dog.

Ruby the black labrador

Journal of a dog's life and other musings

JUMP FOR JOY! Photo Project

Capturing the beauty of the human spirit -- in mid-air -- around the world

the Misadventures of Misaki

The musings of an Alaskan Malamute living in the UK

Sheba's Life Story

Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever

dailyspro

I'm a glass half full kind of gal who thinks life is more enjoyable with pets !

rachelmankowitz

The Cricket Pages

Long Life Cats and Dogs

All about animals, and some other stuff

Kymmy and the Iggy

Things we love, things we do, things we see..

%d bloggers like this: