Sunday, March 31, 2013

Happy Easter to all my friends

By Hobo Hudson

I hope you all had a happy Easter weekend. Mine turned out pretty good. First, Mom and Dad spent all day Saturday at home, Dad doing a repair job at the house and Mom doing writing jobs at her computer. In other words, they didn’t leave me alone during the day. I hate it if I have to stay home alone, that is, taking care of my kiddy sister Blondie. Usually, she just snoozes without even realizing that our parents took off, but it’s still always a bother to keep an eye on her. You never know what these cats have on their minds.

Anyway, it was even better than just having both my parents at home. Dad had to replace the window he broke on the porch, and since my other kitty siblings made a big fuss about the porch, their living quarters, becoming an ice box with the missing window pane, Dad had to go to Home Depot to buy the necessary parts to repair the window. Of course, I went with him, or he never would have found the aisle where Home Depot stocks the glass panes.  

Back home, I supervised Dad replacing the broken window pane so he would set it in correctly and it would last, and then, Mom and Dad took off to go out to eat dinner. That was a letdown. I’m always hoping they would go to one of the restaurants that allow dogs to eat on the patio and take me with them, but unfortunately, we only have bars but no restaurants around our neighborhood that welcome us pups. That says a lot, doesn’t it?

Luckily, Dad thought about me and brought me some left-over fried chicken he said he couldn’t eat. I know better, though. He had ordered an extra serving of chicken for me so I would let him back into the house. I even don’t bother to tell Mom what to do because she still believes she can train me, and she would just have entered the house through one of the back doors. At the end, I had a delicious pre-Easter supper of chicken and french fries and also a delicious Easter breakfast of chicken and french fries. 

To round the perfect Easter Sunday up, my best friend, Max, came over after lunch—I had just finished my ham Easter dinner and didn’t have to share a bite with him—and we spent the rest of the day playing together and snacking around on cookies and crackers.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Designer jeans—revealing the secret

By Hobo Hudson

I guess people often ask themselves how clothing manufacturers put those fabulous holes in designer jeans that teenagers and young adults rave about and pay a fortune for. Well, I know the secret because not long ago, I was one of those manufacturers and also a jeans fashion designer.

Although I sold my business to a British company a while back, the new company owners are still producing the same line of jeans which made me a millionaire. My book, The Richest Dog in Town, available at, reveals the secret of those designer jeans—and the lurking danger of eschewing them.

If you decide to buy my book, please leave a review of the book at after you finished reading it and also, tell your friends about it.

Monday, March 18, 2013

The rabbit chasing club

By Hobo Hudson

I was busily dictating another story to Mom for my next book when Dad came bursting in the office waving a bill. “Hobo,” he yelled, “what’s this bill from something called The Rabbit Chasing Club entitled monthly dues for 500 bones?” “Oh yes, Dad. I’ve been meaning to mention it to you. I joined it last month but had enough bones on hand to pay the initiation fee, and they will be billing me monthly from now on.”

Licking his mouth, Dad asked, “When’s your next meeting? It’s been years since I had a good rabbit supper.” My hair began to bristle, and in horror, I screamed, “Eat a rabbit? Dad! We don’t catch them and eat them. We just chase them. The rabbits are members of the club too.”

Dad was a little non-plussed at this, so I went on to explain to him how our club works. We meet at 4 p.m. the first full moon of each month in the grassland close to the Little Manatee River. We always choose a different spot for each meeting, and one of the members brings two jars with colored balls. All of us dogs draw a ball, and then all the rabbits draw a ball from the other jar, and the dog and rabbit holding the same color ball will form a pair for the chase.

This past month, a jack rabbit named Pete and I made up a pair. Pete had really long legs and, dog, could that guy run. I finally caught up with him and plucked a hair out of his tail just before the knock-off horn blew at 5:30 p.m., and we both collapsed and rested for a while. When we recovered our breath, we walked back to our camp site, and he slunk away to join his chums while I joined my pals and proudly displayed the hair I captured.

All of us dogs who were holding a rabbit hair in their paws took turns recounting the chase and received loud bays of approval while the dogs without a secured  hair just sat with a hang dog look on their faces. When it was my turn, I modestly downplayed my achievement, saying that I had used a 10-second delay by watching Pete’s actions which showed me that he was relying on speed rather than tactics to elude me. I further told my doggy club members that I saw small rocks, knotted roots and deep potholes obstructing Pete’s path in front of him. Knowing Pete would turn to avoid them, all I had to do was to not follow his trail but instead head for the end of the bumpy stone path, and I would be in position to nail him.

Our club president interrupted me at that point and barked that no matter how I had accomplished the feat, I was still the only dog that had ever defeated Pete. Then, he took my rabbit hair and mounted it on a plaque for permanent display. At the same time, chortles erupted, coming from the rabbits’ meeting corner as the winning rabbits described how they had outwitted the “stupid dogs” by dodging and weaving and constantly changing directions. For some reason, Pete was noticeably silent.

While the sun had set and a full moon had arisen shortly before, we dogs took a moment to admire its reflection in the waters of the Little Manatee River, and our choir leader led us in a spirited rendition of “Baying at the Moon.” When we had finished howling our song, the rabbits joined our group and together, we lit a small bon fire for a cookout. Our guest chef this month was a little puggle named Kolchak, who arrived in his chef’s toque and carried trays filled with freshly cubed steak, sliced carrots and other covered-up goodies.  

Kolchak was a master in hosting the perfect cookout. After he placed the trays of food next to the fire, he jumped toward a palmetto plant and quickly chewed of the stems. Offering each of us one of the stems, he told us to spit a bit of steak or carrot onto it and hold it over the bon fire to roast the food. We had a lot of fun, and Kolchak kept an eye on everyone’s skewer to make sure nobody burnt the steak or the carrots.  

By the time we had eaten our fill, a wind had blown up, grabbing Kochak’s toque and hurling it toward the river. We all jumped up to chase it, and Pete redeemed himself by pouncing on it and holding it until Kolchak could scamper over and collect it. When Kolchak had firmly fastened the toque on his head, he unwrapped the other trays, revealing mouthwatering selections of dessert, and passed them around. There were “truffles” for us dogs and carrot cakes for the rabbits. The truffles were sooo delicious, and in just a few minutes, not a crumb was left. If you’d like to try them, just go to Kolchak’s recipe page and make your own.

After hearing about my great evening, Dad allowed as to it being a great investment and boxed up the bones to mail out right away.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Midair collision over Ruskin

By Hobo Hudson


A midair collision occurred over Ruskin a few moments ago. Hobo Hudson, reporter, is on the spot to bark a first paw report.

“First, let me reassure everyone there were no fatalities, although one pilot suffered a chipped tooth and the other severely ruffled fur.

“As best I can determine from witness’ accounts, two squirrels, identified as Peter O. Squirrel and Patricia A. Squirrel, were on adjacent fence posts doing their preflight checks when a human appeared on a nearby sun deck and threw a peanut which landed midway between the two posts. Both squirrels took off without checking to see if the airspace was clear and collided midair.

“Peter A. Squirrel, who had taken off from the right fence post, sputtered through a chipped tooth that he had the right of way and the last time he looked just before takeoff, the woman squirrel to his left was busy putting on her makeup. Patricia A. Squirrel immediately clasped her paw over her mouth and replied indignantly that she was doing no such thing. She further said that she often flies with only half her lipstick and finishes when she lands.

“James O. Squirrel, airport manager, issued an official statement saying the entire accident is due to the authorities having removed the controllers due to the sequester.”

More to follow as soon as details are available.


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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