My Dog is Possibly Cooler Than Your Dog.

It would seem that this blog is called Graceful Grandma for a reason and that I most likely should, would, could blog about grandmotherly things.
But my grandson is fabulous most all of the time and it has been a good day when I can send him home happy and alive regardless of the laws of nature we shunned, the dangerous places on earth we naively explored and the junk food we consumed.
So what I'm saying is that while my grandmotherly escapades are delightful, they aren't always exciting enough to be shared with other humans or written about in a blog post.
Well, my life in general should rarely be shared with other humans or written about in a blog post, but here we are.
We don't always get what we want, but sometimes we get more than we figured on.
This post is about Baxter, my rescued Boxer dog.
Sweetest most loyal dog ever to be loved but dumb as a rock, any rock.
He is a dog that is fluent in excitement which translates into: fast running, full body snuggling, complete suction sniffing, jumping randomly like a gazelle, vigorous bum wiggling and especially....consuming mass quantities of food.
Wherever and whenever he can find it.
Take 2 days ago for example.
On the daily walk that I take with my dogs we found a ham bone.
Well, there was no 'we'.
It was all Baxter.
In the woods.
No where near a home... or garbage can.
I am pretty sure it was a store bought hambone and not remnants of a roadkill cause it appeared to have the blade marks from where it was spirally sliced and unless I'm completely out of the wilderness loop, coyotes have not yet learned to hold a knife let alone slice pork.
But you be the judge.


Mystical Hambone of the Forest.

Baxter would not let loose of the bone.
He carried it for the entire walk.
Taunted the other dog Eva with it, but would not let it go.
...Until it was time to go home...
He dropped the coveted bone only because I 'ewwwwwwed' loudly, said "No Baxter" and told him 'he could not take it home where it would get ham grease all over the rug'.
Well, that was what I told him, but what he understood was, and this is a rough translation " My mama hates this bone right now so I will leave it here in the woods till later so she will snuggle with me and feed me mass quantities of food"
Thinking that the bone would disappear overnight in the mouth of some other carnivore, we came home.
...And the next day...
We go walking again.
Dadgummit.
The bone is still here!
I then pick up the icky bone and throw it in the creek so the smell will go down stream and the crawdads can nibble it.
It is now down under moving water about 16-18 inches.
Perfect.
Baxter will never find it or be able to get it.
The walk begins.
Barely 1/10th of a mile into the walk here comes wet Baxter, ham bone in his mouth, running, jumping, laughing and singing in dog language because he rescued his beloved bone and can now add 'mer-dog' to his list of accomplishments.
He apparently sniffed out the location of the bone, held his dog breath and submerged his dog head completely to get that dadgum bone which is no less remarkable than if he had put on a doggy scuba suit and retrieved his treasure all Jacque Cousteau style.
That is totally amazing, awesome and weird to me.
The awful yet tantalizing bone was happily carried once more through out the entire walk.
I did not mind a bit.
I was actually kind of proud.
I let him keep the nasty thing, since it had been 'washed' and all and even let him bring it home where he chewed on it till it broke and splintered and I threw it away...into double bags and then put the bags in the BIG trashcan out in the garage.
The bone is now out of Baxters reach......Maybe....I have underestimated him before....
He was still noticeably pleased with himself and his day.
I was still proud.
Thats my fish dog.


Happy Baxter with his Hambone.



Thanks for being here.