Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Doggy humor: The new employee

By Hobo Hudson

I had been toying with the idea of hiring a new employee because my four cat sisters who are also my employees had been complaining that they were getting too old to work full time anymore. I wasn’t really paying much attention to finding additional help since my sisters’ working “full time” meant being on the job 10 minutes per hour while spending the other 50 minutes lolling in the sun, taking baths or just watching the squirrels and birds outside.

Things changed last Tuesday when I received an excellent job application and resume from a male cat by e-mail, and I barked at Mom and Dad that I wanted to go interview the young fellow. We all piled into Dad’s car and off we went. After we arrived at the young fellow’s motel room and I met the fellow, I could tell in an instant that he would make a great employee. Dragging my paws because I was still a little hesitant about hiring due to the state of our economy, I told him to keep looking for work and job offers until Wednesday evening and, if he hadn’t found anything, I would hire him.

He called late Wednesday afternoon and meowed that he hadn’t even had a return call from all the resumes he had sent out. I reassured him about our agreement and told him to consider himself hired and that we would pick him up Thursday morning for a little pre-employment physical.

Bright and early Thursday morning, Dad, Mom and I drove back to the motel where the young fellow had been staying. With our help, he checked out of his room and accompanied us to my doctor’s office for a quick blood test to make sure he didn’t have HIV or leukemia, which he didn’t have, of course. We then took him with us to our home where I led him onto the porch and explained his duties. He would have to catch bugs, mice and any other critters that might dare to venture onto the porch and also to keep Mom and Dad amused by chasing toys and performing other antics to make them smile. He was also to keep his eyes on our sundeck to make sure none of the birds or squirrels did anything they weren’t supposed to do.

My new employee’s name is Thomas, and I’m going to let him take it from here:



“I was born about a year ago into a very poor family, and as soon as I was able to walk and talk, my mother told me that I would have to leave and support myself because there just wasn’t enough income in her household to support me and my brothers and sisters, and so I sadly left my humble home.

After days of scratching and meowing at every door I saw, I finally found a low paying job at a nice home. The lady of the house said they didn’t have much but would gladly share what they did have with me. Gratefully, I went to work for her family keeping the mice away and lying in the lady’s lap so she could pat me and reduce her blood pressure.

I stayed there for a while until, about a month ago, the lady called me into the office and told me that her husband had lost his job, and they would no longer be able to afford to keep me on the payroll. She suggested I check around a neighborhood farther away that seemed more prosperous where I shouldn’t have any problem finding a new job, and she offered to give me a ride to the area.

I sadly packed the few bits of Meow Mix I had managed to save and hopped into the lady’s car. She dropped me off in a community of nice homes, adorned by manicured lawns and flower beds. However, it was the same old story. Every time I scratched at a door and talked to people, they told me they couldn’t afford to hire anyone because of the economy.

After a few days, I had exhausted my supply of Meow Mix and was becoming desperate when I discovered a soup kitchen operated by a nice lady from a group called “Feline Folks.” I was the last cat in line of a crowd of maybe 10 cats she served, and after I had eaten the meal, she sat down to talk to all of us and assured everyone that she would keep coming to take care of us.

I saw my opportunity. I snuggled close to her and allowed her to pat me and then, I jumped into her lap and chattered away. She immediately realized that I was an unemployed housecat and not a tramp like the rest of the soup kitchen customers, and she promised me to give me some help in finding a new job.

The first item on the agenda was a trip to a place in Tampa called “ACT,” where I took a nap and woke to find I had been relieved of some surplus equipment. After that, I accompanied the nice lady to her home in Sun City Center where she allowed me to access her computer to send resumes to everyone she knew. It paid off immediately with a bark from Hobo, and I now have a permanent job with a very nice employer and good humans to help him take care of me.”




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About Hobo


This was Hobo Hudson, my doggy brother, a little terrier mix with black fur. He became famous after his first attempt at writing stories, which was an article published in the newsletter of our local animal shelter, the same shelter in which I ended up years later before Hobo and his parents adopted me. Hobo’s fame quickly spread as he made a name for himself as a business dog and an adventurer. To keep his memory alive, my doggy sister, my three kitty siblings and I, Wylie Hudson, are continuing his blog. Our mom is the blog’s editor.

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