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.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Doggy humor: I’m being waterboarded

By Hobo Hudson

Yesterday started innocently enough when I went out back to make my morning rounds and inspect my farm. I found everything in order and decided to check my latest batch of dead-fish perfume. After giving it a careful sniff, I thought it was just about right and put a tiny drop behind my right ear so that I could check that it didn’t evaporate too quickly.

As I entered the back door, Mom caught a whiff of it and started gagging. “Hobo,” she cried, “what have you gotten into?”

She left me standing on the back porch and scurried inside. Watching her through the sliding glass windows, I saw her picking up the phone and briefly talking on it. Soon after she had put down the phone, I heard a car in the driveway and saw a man entering the house through the front door. He was wearing a mask on his face to resemble Dad.

The man came onto the porch and took a sniff at me and declared that whatever body mist I was wearing fit the classification of a weapon of mass destruction. He snapped a heavy leash to my collar, led me out the back door and through the side gate and into a room I’ve never seen before. It just had bare concrete block walls and plain concrete flooring with one tiny window inset into the door.

After donning a gas mask, the man put me into a large tub of water and began demanding to know where I had the weapon stored. I naturally wouldn’t reveal the location of the perfume because I had left my secret recipe on the laboratory bench. When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my head and dunked me under water. Then, he asked me again. When I still refused to answer, he poured some awful smelling stuff all over my body and rubbed it in until it began foaming and emitting a smell, a smell like roses…yuck!

He continued dunking me under water a few more times and then yanked me out of the tub while wrapping a straitjacket around me. After he finally released me from it, he pointed something looking like a gun at me and blasted me with hot air until I thought my skin would cook and my fur would fall out.

A few minutes later, he left me all alone in the dark cell, threatening that he would be returning later and might repeat the treatment if I will not bark the information he wants. I don’t know how long I can hold out but desperately need help. 

I’m smuggling this note out through a small crack in the door hoping that a friendly squirrel may find it and deliver it to one of my friends. Please help me before my jailor comes back. I’m sure I’ve fallen into the hands of Homeland Security and they have spirited me to Guantanamo. Please contact my attorney, Ms. Foley Monster, and have her file a writ of canine corpus in federal court. I’m a U.S. dog, and they don’t have the authority to do this to me.




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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