Hobo's blog

Hobo Hudson, business dog, author and farmer, shares his latest news and stories about his life and gives prudent advice to his fellow dogs, cats and other animals—humans included.


Sunday, April 29, 2012

A disastrous new venture

By Hobo Hudson

Mom told me yesterday she wanted to go to Camp Bow Wow, the doggy camp I love to stay at when Mom and Dad go out of town, to take some photos during the camp’s adoption event Find Love on a Leash. Whoa, I thought, what a great idea to bring together dogs looking for a forever home and people looking for a mate without faults. 

Pondering the idea a little bit longer, I thought if I would trot over there myself and take the photos before Mom does, I might meet a sweet little girl, and I also could try my luck at a new profession. I’m always ready for a new challenge and becoming a professional photographer sounds kind of cool.

Early Saturday morning, before anyone in the family woke up, I loaded my little red wagon with the camera I sneaked out of Mom’s office, a jug of water and a bag of kibbles, and off I went. I arrived just in time for the opening ceremony and clicked my first photo. Then, I went from booth to booth and told each dog waiting for a forever home to pose for me so that I could catch him or her from the best possible angle. The right appearance is all important in catching people’s attention. Besides, I also wanted to attract viewers to admire my artistically perfect photographs.

With a thumb hurting from the constant clicking of the camera button, I headed back home after I gave up finding one of the beautiful female doggies willing to accept my invitation for a date. Quickly, I went into Mom’s office to load the photos onto the computer. BOL, I couldn’t find them. There were no photos on the camera. I checked the connection of the cable from the camera to the computer, and then I saw it, the memory card. I had snapped away to capture all those adorable doggies on pictures without having a memory card in the camera. I don’t think photography is my forte.

Sorry, guys no photos from me, but maybe Mom took some photos later and will publish them on examiner.com. It’s worth checking out.




Proverbs fit for a dog

By Hobo Hudson

I was always wondering why I become aggressive whenever I encounter a big fellow dog, someone the size of a German shepherd. Even big dogs who start out greeting me with a friendly attitude are taken aback by my rude if not violent response.

Since I mostly act this way toward big dogs when my mom is close by, I thought I did it to protect her and let my dad fight for himself. Last week, while searching for another proverb to lift my spirits in the morning, I suddenly remembered something from my past that would explain my out-of-character behavior. Years ago, long before Mom and Dad adopted me, I lived in a home where nobody in the family wanted me but gave me temporary shelter anyway. Two of the family members were big dogs. They bullied me around, day in day out, and I put up with it without saying a word because I needed the home.

The proverb, by William Blake, that kindled my memory goes as follows:
“I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.”


Monday, April 23, 2012

Proverbs fit for a dog

By Hobo Hudson

I’m making progress with my attempt to be more ambitious in the morning. Instead of growling and telling everyone who wakes me up to shut up so I can snooze a little bit longer, I now grab my dossier of inspiring proverbs. Leafing through it at an ungodly early time of 4:30 a.m. this morning when my kitty sister Blondie meandered through the house meowing she needed something to meow about, I stumbled upon the following quotation: “Some folks can look so busy doing nothin’ that they seem indispensable” by Kin Hubbard (1868–1930), an American humorist and writer.

I don’t even have to alter this quote to adjust it to my life. Cats just have the propensity of doing stuff day in day out that is useless and fails to produce revenue but manage to hold a job. May it be sleeping, eating, grooming, sniffing catnip or meowing like Blondie did before daylight this morning, my cat sisters are totally emerged in their activity which contributes nothing to my profits, but I still consider them key employees.


Monday, April 16, 2012

Proverbs fit for a dog

By Hobo Hudson

I had the idea to start out the day pondering a motivating proverb and ran across the following proverb by James Matthew Barrie: “Every man who is high up loves to think that he has done it all himself; and the wife smiles, and lets it go at that.”

Remembering the story I had published below, I barked at myself, “Hey, I can apply the saying to me if I rewrite it as following: Every dog who is high up thinks that he has done it all himself; and the squirrel employees smile, and let it go at that.”

Just call me Tom

By Hobo Hudson

As you know, I’ve been having an awful problem with something called “root knot,” and Dad and I have been working furiously to try to cure or at least curb the nematode infestation.

We’ve pulled all the plants that indicated an infestation and carefully dug up all the roots. We’ve dispersed a biological control agent, hauled and spread a layer of compost over the entire garden and then dragged bag after bag of rotted oak leaves from my pal Josie’s yard to our garden beds and scattered the leaves over the whole lot. After wetting everything down, there was nothing left to do except watch everything decay and wait for the moment to plant a spring crop.

To while away the time, I sniffed through Dad’s bookcase and pulled out a book to read. It was about a hooman boy named Tom Sawyer. I was rolling on the floor laughing when I read about the time he tricked his friends into painting his fence for him, and I thought there was no way he could have pulled a trick like that  even on a six month old puppy as he had done on the hooman youngsters.

Anyway, my pal Max barked at me the next day that he and his dad were raking oak leaves and wondered if they could put them on my garden beds. He said it would save them the work of bagging the leaves up and dragging the bags to the curb for pickup.

His request sounded like a win-win situation to me. I would get free leaves and Max would get out of a lot of work. However, when I barked at Dad about my deal, Dad told me we needed to dig the old rotted leaves and compost into the top couple of inches of soil first. He said since he had done most of the work so far, he expected me to do the digging.

I stayed awake most of the night worrying about Dad’s instruction. Pictures of me digging into and shoving around mounds and mounds of soil swirled through my head. I felt exhausted merely thinking about all that work waiting for me in the morning, and then it hit me. I wondered if I could trick Charlene, my squirrel entertainer, into doing the work for me.

As soon as it began to get daylight, I jumped out of bed, grabbed a pawful of peanuts and hurried outside to the garden. I buried one peanut here and one peanut there all over the garden beds and then went back inside the house for my morning treats.

About the time Charlene usually appeared, I trotted back outside and, following Dad’s order, began slowly digging. Charlene saw me and scurried over, asking me what I was doing digging so early in the morning. Keeping my cool, I told her that Dad had planted peanuts without asking my permission, and I was going to dig them all up and throw them away. Charlene immediately volunteered to summon her crew of relatives and friends to do the work for me if she could have the peanuts. I quickly agreed, provided she dug up every inch of the garden. She accepted the stipulation.

Turning away from me, Charlene gave out a series of shrieks, and a bunch or squirrels came sprinting from all directions and stood in formation in front of Charlene. She told them to start digging for peanuts. I sat back and watched. Just about the time the squirrels were ready to give up the hunt, one would squeal, “I found one. I found one,” and the rest of the crew would start digging with renewed vigor.

Yep. That Tom Sawyer was one smart cookie.






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About

My name is Hobo Hudson. I’ve always considered myself a terrier mix, and I’m going to leave it at that. I used to share my mom’s website writing about my life, but Mom’s stories somehow got in my way. So, I deemed it more appropriate to open my own blog, which also allows me to engage my siblings in writing posts if I’m running short on time. After all, I’m a busy dog. My mom helps me with my blog now and then, but I think it’s only to safeguard my good reputation. Her website, newsandtales.com, contains some great stories.
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Bruny Hudson
Bruny Hudson, manager and editor of Newsandtales.com, assists as a consultant with Hobo’s blog.
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