The Very Face of Evil

To this point I have resisted writing much about my dog other than to point out that he clearly has a penchant for socks. And swallowing them whole. The whole "Marley" thing makes me wary. Haha....naughty dog....funny. We have reached a point however, at which there is so much to be said that I simply can no longer fight the urge. This dog. Good Lord. Oh, he looks all sweet and innocent up there in that picture. Don't look at it for too long or you'll  turn to stone. That was taken months ago. When we still were still in control of the situation. Good times. To sum it up, we had to choose between the "blue" puppy and the "orange" puppy, referred to as such because of their identifying collars. We picked blue. BIG mistake. We often gaze north to Canada and say, "I wonder what Orange is doing right now.....". Orange went to the Great White North and is probably curled up in a cute little ball next to the Christmas tree, the picture of puppy perfection. My dog is IN my Christmas tree. Think "Stitch". That's Grady. I have had Labs all my life. I'm a no sudden movements, stick with the plan kinda gal. I like knowing what to expect. Or I did. There was no expecting Grady. He is 55 lbs of pure six-month old evil incarnate. He is not trainable because he has no desire to please. He desires destruction. He doesn't just jump on people, he launches himself at them. And he is built like a freakin' tank. He can knock over my son, who is a fairly sturdy chap himself. There is nothing he will not eat. Razors. Socks. Paper. Rocks. Throw in some scissors and you've got yourself some rochambeau. Oh, and he loves him some booze. Make the mistake of actually sitting to enjoy your cocktail? Expect company 'cause he's in your lap trying to get his drink on. Suffice to stay there's a lot of drinking standing up going on around here. "How you like me NOW, Grady.....can't reach THIS, can ya? HA, sucka!!!!" Part of the problem is that I have never met a more confident dog in my life. Grady is comfortable in Grady's skin. He's comfortable with skin in general, particularly when it's human skin in his gaping maw. And he is black, coiled energy. Like a python in puppy fur just waiting to strike. I've never seen a dog be airborne as much as Baby G. He can fly. And I think I've proven that I don't lie by actually producing the hamster car. Flying dog. Seriously. When he gets up to cocktail altitude we're going to have some serious issues. 'Cause I don't care who you are. You mess with my cocktail and I'm gonna put some hurt on you. It would be pretty funny if it was somebody else's drink though. Oh, and let's see....he's eaten the sweet, mod, Room and Board sofa, made the front door look like it was the only thing standing between a lion and a fresh kill, and rendered several lamps useless as they kinda need cords to function. I could go on. It's a long list. I'm pretty sure you get the picture. And please don't come at me with any of this "Oh, it's the owners fault" bullshit. You have not met Grady. This is not my first dog rodeo, cowpoke. It's not us. It's him. It's not that he doesn't have his moments. He really is cute. And when he's sleeping, I almost kinda like him. It's just the rest of the time. Jack summed it best when he said, "Mom, Grady is destroying everything". Touche, Jacksta, touche.