Monday, September 24, 2012

Dad is henpecked

By Hobo Hudson

I was playing “Bite the tail” with Blondie yesterday when she hid under Mom’s desk. When I finally found my kitty sister and started to attack, I happened to look up at the underside of Mom’s desk drawer and saw a very tattered and worn book taped there. I stretched my neck to read the title. It said, “Henpecking for Dummies.” A light came on in my brain, and I began to put two and two together and realized that Dad is definitely henpecked.

I remembered last Saturday morning when Dad and I came home and Mom was just walking out of the garage with a bag of garbage. She shoved it at Dad and said, “Oh good, you’re just in time to take the garbage out,” and she gave Dad a kiss on his cheek. I then remembered that Mom used to do all the cooking and that now, Dad goes out to buy takeout food on Tuesdays. He cooks a lot on Fridays and takes Mom out for supper on Saturdays.

When I confronted Dad with my suspicions, he just laughed and said he’s glad to help out around the house a little since he’s retired.

Now, I think Dad is both henpecked and brainwashed because I don’t think the men should be doing any of this. What do you think?

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Freeloading squirrels

By Hobo Hudson

I was sitting on the sun deck this morning watching Dad feed the squirrels and noticed something odd. Charlene’s clan from the old oak tree would come up onto the sun deck, run over to the screen door of the porch and perform some antics to entertain my cat employees. As soon as the entertainer squirrels took a break, Dad would throw each of them a small peanut, and they would scamper off to the old oak tree to eat their pickings and then bury the shells.

The squirrels from across the street, however, would simply walk under the gate into my backyard and onto my sun deck and sit at its very edge, and Dad would select the biggest and best peanuts to throw them. After catching the peanuts, the squirrels would jump onto the top rail of the sun deck, crouch down or stretch out to munch on the peanuts and then throw the shells onto the sun deck for Dad to clean up.

I asked Dad why he gave the squirrels who merely came for a feast and didn’t do any work the best peanuts, and Dad replied that he was trying to teach them to work. That didn’t seem right to me. I growled at Dad to start giving them the smallest peanuts and to give Charlene’s clan the biggest and best peanuts.

Then, I trotted over to the gate, stopping the freeloaders from leaving and explaining my new food supply system: While I wouldn’t allow them to starve, they wouldn’t be eating so high on the hog without working for their food.

Oh, they did a lot of squealing about that. They said they had a constitutional right to food without having to work. I just grinned and agreed but pointed out that the constitution didn’t say they had a right to the same food as the squirrels that are willing to work. I also told them I might cut out the peanut provision entirely and just let them eat corn and any acorns they can find on their own.

We’ll just have to wait and see if this tough love approach works. If not, my peanut bill is going way down real fast.

Dad is wondering if this same approach would work with the “Occupy Tampa” bunch. They just lie around a public park waiting for good-hearted citizens to bring them food to eat and don’t even bother to put their trash in the receptacles while city employees have to come to clean up.


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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