Our Grady is not one of those dogs.

On one of his first walks, I took him near this little pond complete with fountain that sits in the center of our apartment complex. Everything was still new to him, but he seemed to have an exceptional draw to the water, inching down the slight decline to water level. I pulled him closer on the leash and instructed him “No!” so he knew not to go down there.

Let’s just say he was undeterred. A few days later I was at work and I got a text message from Brittany saying simply, “Freaking water dog!” This is then followed by a picture of Grady sitting in the shallow end of the pond, happy as could be.

This meant poor Brittany had the task of cleaning him up (the water was pretty muddy) on her own while I was at work. It also confirmed that we had a dog who might be part fish.

When I shower in the morning, I generally keep him in the bathroom so he can’t pee on the carpet or chew up something he’s not supposed to chew. His primary objective while in there is to get in the shower so he can be with the water. Failing that, he sits outside and laps up the water that spills into the metal groove on the floor for the sliding doors to the full-length shower.

If we don’t keep the door closed, he will run into the spare bathroom and jump into the bathtub in the hopes that there might be a little bit of water in there. If not, he is undeterred and will remain in there because he knows water will appear there eventually.

Walking him after a rain shower? Forget about it. The dog will attempt to drink every puddle in the entire parking lot.

I’m dying to take him swimming one day.

We live in an apartment complex, and as such there are people constantly coming and going. If he’s out on a walk, it does not matter how far or how close they are to him — Grady wants to meet them, jump on them and presumably ask them for their family history.

Today we were at the tree with the rope (see previous posting about this) and a good 50 yards away Grady spotted a woman pushing a stroller with a baby. He froze and stared, neck pointed at a 90-degree angle in her direction.

She disappeared from view as she went to the trash compactor, but he knew she was still there. I jiggled the leash and tried to get him interested in the rope again, but he was transfixed. Seriously, he might as well have been a statue. This woman was the most interesting person he had ever seen, and he wanted to be friends with her.

Once she had headed back to her apartment, I tried to get Grady to play with the rope again. No luck. I eventually had to drag him across the street and up the stairs to our apartment. If I let off the leash for a second, he would look for this woman who had never been cloer than 50 yards to him in his entire life.

This happens every time I take him outside.

Sleeping through the night is still a work in progress for Grady. As you’ve no doubt read on previous posts, trying to get him to sleep through the night has not been a great success so far. However, I thought we were turning a corner.

For two straight nights, he slept all night long and didn’t wake up to go to the bathroom at some ungodly hour. Not only that, but he slept from when Brittany goes to bed (varies but always before me) until she wakes up (5:30). This was a huge development, and I even told everyone at work how proud I was of him.

Then came Tuesday night. Brittany went to bed around 10, and so did the dog. I was up working until 1:30 a.m. or so, and I was exhausted as I crawled into bed. Grady stirred a little like he often does, but I figured he’d fall right back asleep.

Wrong. He jumped off the bed and went to the door, a signal to go outside if there ever has been one. Grudgingly, I let him out and came back in a few moments later to fall back asleep. Grady had other plans and wanted to play.

So began a good hour and a half of trying to get him to sleep by all means necessary. I even resorted to his old Ohio State blanket and the couch with the TV on to no avail.

Finally, at 3:15 a.m., he went to his cage. Normally he barks and howls, but I was hoping this would be short-lived so our neighbors didn’t start firing randomly into our apartment. This time, however, he curled up and went right to sleep and mercifully so did Brittany and I.

Of course, she was up two hours later for work and so was he, but at least we got a little sleep.

Then Brittany showed me that he had peed a little on her jeans and on the carpet near her as well. Starting to wonder if he has a bladder problem, as this is the fifth time he’s peed in the last 45 minutes or so.

I took him outside and he peed a little bit. I’m sure he knows to go outside, but he does get jealous if Brittany and I are both doing something not involving him.

I got “Puppies For Dummies” from the library today. Here’s to hoping we pick up some good pointers.

I took Grady on a walk this evening like any other night, and we went across the street to some grass where there is also a tree he likes to sniff around. When we arrived, there was a new development: for some reason, a rope was firmly rooted in the dirt at the base of the tree. It was tied almost like a hangman’s noose, but it was buried deep.

This had to be the highlight of Grady’s week. He found this rope and immediately started going to town with it. But the best part was that he would grab on to the rope, try to tug at it for a minute and then, when it wouldn’t budge, he would take off at top speed. The dog was barrelling around at top speed while on the leash, which meant he measured out a semicircle with me and the tree as the radius. Seriously, it was like watching an episode of the Three Stooges. With one sound effect from that show, it would have been downright hilarious.

This went on for a few minutes. He’d tug at the rope, fail to unlodge it and then, now all fired up, shoot away from me as if from a cannon. It was unbelievable, watching him gallop with his tongue hanging out, eyes wide and long black ears flapping in the breeze.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him quite that fired up before.

Although he checked out fine and healthy the first time when we took him the day after we bought him, he had a follow-up scheduled for two weeks later so he could get two shots. I was curious to see how he would handle it, because I’ve never actually been in a room with a dog receiving a shot before but I’ve heard horror stories.

Poor Brittany got held up at work, so it was just the pooch and I when the vet and her handler arrived in the room. Ever the people-pleaser, his tail was flapping all over the place to greet them. It was clear he had no idea what was to come.

After a little inspection that proved difficult because he kept trying to lick everyone, the moment of reckoning had arrived. The handler held him firmly while he received the shots, one on each side.

As Grady received the first injection, I was amazed: Not even a whimper! Maybe this dog was tougher than I thought! I was pretty proud of the little guy … until the second shot came.

This one was on his other side, and it was clear that he knew what was coming. As soon as the needle punctured the skin, the quiet whining escalated immediately into a loud YELP! that grew louder as the doctor injected the vaccine. We tried to soothe him until it was over, but he was not having it.

Once the injection was done, the handler put him on the floor and he was off like he had been shot out of a cannon, pinballing around the small room at top speed and whining at the top of his lungs. It was hard not to feel awful for the little guy. He couldn’t tell if it itched or hurt or how it felt.

After about a minute of frantic activity, he calmed down and sat at my feet. I reached down to pet him and he dropped his head on my foot, confident that everything would be OK. Not a moment later, Brittany arrived and helped console him as well.

I’m not sure he’ll be so excited to go to the vet next time.

Anyway, he woke up this morning around 4:45, which was unfortunate because Brittany has to get up at 5:30ish for work. We hoped he would just fall back asleep, but he kept rolling around and yawning loudly. Finally, he jumped off the bed and headed for the door, so I fumbled for my glasses and left the room to go let him out.

As I grabbed a bag in case he pooped, he sat by the door and started peeing. I quickly yelled “No!” and he stopped and walked the final foot to the door. At this point, I wasn’t even mad — I just figured he really had to go.

By the time we made it the 10 feet or so to the stairs, Grady was standing at the top of them peeing like he was in the grass. Since the stairs are outside, I figured I’d just let him go rather than stopping him again like I did inside.

When he stopped, we didn’t even bother walking down to the grass because it was clear he was done. As I turned around, I noticed a line of what looked like water reaching all the way from our door to the steps — a good 12 feet or so. The poor dog had to go so badly, he literally started peeing as soon as he was outside and didn’t stop to walk.

I felt so bad!

The other day I was letting him meander by the water and he was nosing through the grass like he normally does. I sat there on the ground, enjoying the sunshine and happy to be letting him have a little fun that we might not typically have the time for.

After a moment, I wanted to pet him so I called for him and he came running, ears flapping as he bounded along. When he got to me, he had a new delicacy he had discovered.

I had to pull two pieces of hardened, dried-out goose poop from his clenched teeth and then remind myself not to let him lick my face for some time.

Amy had the great idea of meeting at a dog park between here and there and we readily agreed. My parents even came down for the day as well.

We got there and let Grady off his leash, letting the two run around and chase each other. I’m not too familiar with how dogs act around each other because we only had one growing up, but I think it’s safe to say that Grady and Duke did not hit it off. There was some chasing and barking at each other, but there was also chewing of each others’ ears, Duke attempting to hump Grady’s face on multiple occasions and a few snarls that had us dragging our respective dogs to time out so we could try to calm them down.

Grady loved digging in the dirt — a previously unknown fact about him. He didn’t chase the ball much, but he was pretty happy to chase the other dogs that were there. After a while, though, we had to keep him on the leash so he wouldn’t attack Duke anymore. Not quite the introduction we were hoping for!

After about an hour of running and playing, we decided to grab some dinner. This meant leaving Grady in the car alone for the first time ever, a situation I was nervous about. We hid everything he could destroy and headed into the restaurant — although I sat by the window so I could keep an eye on him. He seemed pretty calm, and all I could see of him was one glimpse of his white-tipped tail shipping around in the air as he went from the backseat to the front.

Finally, I had to know what he was doing, so I excused myself from the table and headed to the car — quietly, so he wouldn’t hear me and stop whatever he was doing. When I got close enough to peer in, I saw him sitting on the driver’s seat, sleeping peacefully. He had to lay where I had seen sitting! I think my heart melted just a little bit more when I saw that.

He was great in the car, sleeping for the entirety of the two-hour trip each way. Grady is starting to calm down a little bit and is starting to act like he is comfortable here.

As I was typing this while sitting on the couch, he jumped up, curled up next to me and fell asleep with his head on my thigh. Physical comfort soothes him, it seems.