Monday, December 14, 2015

The Early Days—Part 2

By Sabrina Hudson

Just after my tail quit bleeding from Pogo’s bite, Dad closed the carrier door and we were off to see the vet again as he had instructed us on our first visit.

The vet was very impressed by how much better I looked after all the good food and rest. He lifted my tail and pronounced my anal gland was fine, but then he touched my rear end, and I let out a yowl and hit the ceiling. After peeling me off it, he told me I had developed an abscess and I would need a little nap again while he fixed it.

Afterwards, he brought me back to the examining room, where Mom and Dad had been waiting. He placed another big bag of medicine in front of us and explained that he had left the abscess open to drain and that I would bleed a little for a few days while it healed.

I fell back asleep at home, and when I woke up late in the afternoon, it was the same old story. I was in my carrier, and Pogo was sitting in front of the door glaring at me.

I was getting mighty tired of this nonsense, so I stood up, bowed my back and stalked out. To my surprise, Pogo turned and ran away. That was the last real trouble I had with her, although I did have to whack her a couple of times when she was eating when I wanted to eat.

My rear end quit bleeding after a few days, and Hobo told me it was now time to start getting acquainted with my new home because I would have to start working to earn my keep pretty soon.

As soon as I set paw inside the house, a handsome young red-furred kitty came running over to meet me. I thought it was a ploy and he would tell me off as Pogo had done, and I attacked him. Instead of fighting with me, he turned around and scurried away, but he returned a short while later and approached me again, and I attacked him again. I didn’t give up on my aggression and the other guy didn’t give up on his good will. At the end, he succeeded and he became my mentor.  


After touching noses and sniffing tails, he offered to show me around. Naturally, the first things he showed me were the food bowl, the water bowl and the bathroom facilities. As we walked about, he told me his name was Thomas and I told him I was Sabrina and confessed that I had never been a house kitty before. He just laughed and said I would love it as soon as I got used to it.

He suggested that I only stay inside the house for a little while then go to the porch door and meow and Mom or Dad would let me out. This worked great, and I was soon spending the whole day inside. At bedtime, I still had to go onto the porch until that magic evening when Hobo decreed that it was time to spend the night inside and start work. I had already been assigned one job, but I’ll tell you about it in my next blog.
Monday, November 9, 2015

The early days

By Sabrina Hudson

Yes, the early days in my new home were a bit rocky for various reasons. I was very weak from starvation and also found I had some other issues that needed urgent medical care.

After taking what seemed to be half my blood to be sent out for tests, the vet gave me a quick once over and found that my anal gland was rock hard and he would have to knock me out and then inject something directly into it to soften it up before he could express it. He talked it over with Mom and Dad and told them that I was so weak he didn’t want to do it because I might not wake up but there was no choice. I soon felt a pin prick and fell asleep, and when I woke up, my rear end felt much better.

The vet sent me home with a big supply of medicine and told me to come back in a few days for him to look at me again. When Dad carried me from the vet’s office to the car, he seemed to walk a lot faster, and I surmised it was because his wallet was so much lighter.

The vet also said he didn’t want me to associate with the other cats because he wanted me to stay quiet and get some of my strength back. This presented a problem. I ended up sharing the porch with Pogo, which was a nightmare. I’m sure you’ve all heard of someone called “Grumpy Cat.” I’d heard of her but always thought she was just a myth to frighten little kittens when they misbehaved. Well, I’m here to testify that she is real and her name is Pogo!

I was still very groggy when I came back home and onto the porch, so Mom just left me inside the carrier with the door open. When I became fully awake, Pogo was sitting in front of the door and explained that she did not appreciate uninvited company and every time I tried to get out, she would whack me on the nose.

She would only retreat when she saw Dad bringing me small servings of food. I would come out of the carrier, gobble down the food and seize the opportunity to drink water and use the litter box before rushing back into the carrier. A few days later, after I had regained some strength, I decided it was time to put an end to this nonsense and walked out to challenge Pogo, which turned out to be a big mistake.

We began the battle by bowing our backs and making our fur stand on end, and then we tore into each other, rolling all over the porch, biting and scratching at each other. I received the short end of the stick because Pogo bit my tail and hit an artery. I was spurting blood for a couple of hours and got it all over the porch. When it finally stopped bleeding, Mom cleaned the porch and washed all the blood off my tail then cautioned me to not provoke Pogo because she is old and a bit grumpy. A bit? I thought. She’s the original Grumpy Cat I had heard about.

Well, this blog is getting kind of long and Hobo wants the blogs kept short, so I’ll be quiet for now. My next blog will cover more medical problems and my early days after I moved into the house with the rest of the family.
Saturday, October 31, 2015

The ghost squirrel

By Hobo Hudson

This is a true story—well, partly true—just in time for Halloween.

Dad had finished hanging a new wooden door one Halloween morning and noticed a few dents and gouges in the wood and decided to fill them in with DAP putty. After the putty had dried, he sanded the putty with one of those sanding sponges.

When he finished, he banged the sponge against his ladder to get the dust off and heard a hacking and coughing. Looking down, he saw a squirrel sitting on the bottom rung of his ladder all covered with white putty dust. Dad started laughing and said, “Fellow, you look like a ghost.”

The little squirrel turned, gazed at himself and said, “I do, don’t I? This would be a great Halloween costume if I could figure out a way to keep the dust from falling off until evening.”

Dad thought about it for a couple of minutes. Then, he ran inside the house and returned with a can of Mom’s hair spray and started spraying the little guy and told him not to move until the hair spray dried.

Ten minutes later, Dad figured the spray would be dry, and he asked the squirrel to walk around to see how it felt, but the little guy couldn’t move a muscle. Dad decided he must have overdone the spraying a tad, so he wet a rag with water and dish detergent and started scrubbing the little guy’s jaws. After much scrubbing, he finally got the jaws loosened but had run out of detergent.

Dad picked up the little guy and set him at the side of the front door and took off to buy more detergent but thought of a few other things he should buy while at the store. By the time he got home, he had forgotten why he went to the store in the first place and simply put the bag on the countertop for Mom to put away.

By evening, the little squirrel was becoming desperate, and as each trick or treater arrived at the front door, he would chitter, “HELP,” but the kids all laughed because they all thought he was a novelty decoration. 

The next day at dawn, Dad went outside to get the newspaper and saw the little fellow still at the same spot where he had put him. Realizing what he had done, he scooped him up and put him into some warm water to soak a bit. Then he gave him a good washing with the replenished detergent and dried him off thoroughly. The squirrel, now able to move and open his mouth again, drank some water and ate a few peanuts before scampering off, yelling over his shoulder, “This is the last time I fall for one of your hair brained ideas.”

We never saw the little guy again, but it must have been very traumatic because every Halloween since that time, we see a ghostly squirrel sitting on our door step chittering, “HELP.”
Sunday, October 25, 2015

I am Sabrina

By Sabrina Hudson

It’s been two months since Hobo and Wylie offered me a permanent place in their home. A few days ago, Hobo told me it’s time for me to introduce myself to his blog readers, now that I have become adapted to my new family after a rather bumpy start. 
Here, I sit gloating out of harm's way on the windowsill, looking through the window toward whence I came, the streets. But I wasn’t born a street cat. I’m much too fearless, daring and reckless, and I love people and dogs. Not so much other cats, which almost got me into deep trouble with my new mom who abhors fights among siblings. No doubt about it, I was the aggressor. Luckily, my kitty brother Thomas had a serious talk with me one night when nobody was listening, and he set me on the right path. I must say that guy is sooo patient, determined and laid-back, and he never gives up. Now, I even play with him once in a while. I still have some hang-ups about making friends with Tiger, my other kitty brother with whom I share the living quarters. But don’t let me get started on Pogo, my cat sister, who resides on the porch. I’d better leave that gripe for another post.

Since I moved into my new home, I’ve gained quite a bit of weight and look more and more like a little princess. Before, I was so skinny and scrawny looking that everybody thought I was a young kitten, but the vet Mom and Dad took me to right away said I was almost 2 years old. Mom and Dad would have found out by themselves that I was at least a teenager the moment they tried to give me medicine the vet had prescribed for an infection I had. I refused to take it, and despite having been frail, I growled and fought like a lion.    

After I stopped wasting my energy attacking my kitty siblings, I discovered a new passion: playing. I like to play with tennis balls, toys, teasers, scratching boxes and scratching pads and my doggy brothers’ tails. Hobo and Wylie are good sports about it, and Hobo jumps so nicely in the air when I catch his tail, only to wag it again and have me bat at it. Wylie just lets me play with his tail and then walks away when he has enough of my antics. 

I’m sure happy and grateful that Hobo and Wylie found me on their daily evening walks. But who wouldn’t have heard me talking and talking about meeting a guardian angel and wanting to have a safe home as I was running along the fence? Humans. They thought I was just a big talker, and while they provided me with some food and water outside the house I used to hang out at, they didn’t understand that I desperately needed help and shelter and wouldn’t survive much longer on the streets. Hobo and Wylie caught on to my pleadings right away, and they convinced their parents to adopt me.

I’d better close now. Hobo just told me to wind it up. For quite some time, he had planned writing about me himself, but he’s just too busy dictating his third book to Mom and supervising Dad with repairs around the house. He said my story is getting far too long and that blog posts have to be short. But this is all new to me, and I’m still learning, learning a lot of things. So, I’ll try to be more concise with my next story. That is if Hobo allows me to post again, and I’m sure he will.
Monday, May 11, 2015

My first time at the dog park

By Wylie Hudson

I had a special treat for Mom on Mother’s Day. I took her to the dog park. It was the first time for me to visit our local dog park, if not the first time ever to visit any dog park. I can’t remember ever having been to such a big place where I could freely run around and around and sniff at everything that catches my nose. And there were so many interesting smells, especially from other dogs.


Before we arrived, I’d told Mom I wanted to go with her to the section of the dog park where the small dogs play. Earlier, I had asked my friends about it because I’m a medium size dog and wasn’t sure which part I should choose. I prefer smaller dogs and am a little shy around big ones, but I didn’t want to get booed out of the park by the small guys or frighten them with my weight. All of my friends encouraged me, though, to select the part for the small dogs. 

All my worries about it were for naught, because I had the part I chose all to myself, but I was glad I didn’t enter the part for the big dogs. There were some giants walking around, not the huge bulky ones, but nevertheless, they were too tall for me to play with.  One guy, about my size, came to the fence that separates the two dog park parts, and we had a good talk with each other.


It surely was a lot of fun galloping around the whole place, all around the circumference—it’s a large section of the dog park—and I think I made Mom happy because Mom was constantly on my heels, huffing and puffing. At the end, she had to chase me down when it was time to go home. Yeah, I had picked out the perfect Mother’s Day treat.   

Thursday, April 30, 2015

One year in my new home

By Wylie Hudson

I celebrated my first year in my new home last Sunday. For breakfast, I had a gourmet cookie—of course Hobo demanded one, too, one that I could have eaten—and Mom cooked a steak with french fries for supper—that was Hobo’s idea. As a present, I received a stuffed lamb. Even though I played with it quite a while, and Mom and I had a good tug of war with it, it held up and did not need surgery afterward. Of course, Dad was very generous with treats all day long.

The last year has been a great year for me, with lots of new experiences and adventures, and Hobo has taught me many things. Barking was one of them. I’m still not a hundred percent there, but once in a while, when it’s important, I’m able to emit a really loud bark.

In the beginning, though, I missed sleeping in bed with my mom, but my new mom made it clear from day one that I have to sleep in my own bed. It really isn’t that bad. I have a soft, big bed where I can stretch out in all directions, and to be frank, jumping up on Mom’s bed would give me a little bit of trouble, now that I’ve gained some weight.

Something else I missed during the first year in my new home was the monthly visit to the beauty parlor. Mom does my bathing, and she does it in the backyard with a water hose. It was quite a demotion, but I found out it’s fun having Mom do the work, soaping me up, rubbing me down and drying me off with a hairdryer. Once in a while, I roll around in some good-smelling stuff in the yard just to make Mom give me a bath.

So, everything is working out OK. I’m a very happy dog, and I’m sure glad Hobo came to C.A.R.E., our local animal shelter, to hire me as his right paw.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Request for maid service

By Hobo Hudson
My kitty sister Blondie asked me to post this on behalf of the cats in the family. She, her sister, Pogo, and her brothers, Thomas and Tiger, are looking for a new servant. She said Mom has recently slackened off and isn’t cleaning their bathrooms until late in the morning, often it’s already lunch time, and they all cannot live with such a delay. They are wondering if someone could spare a personal maid who comes in early in the morning, preferably around 7 a.m., to do the cats’ bathroom service.

I told Blondie that her request is more or less futile. I explained to her that she needs to find someone willing to work for her and her kitty siblings who lives close by which is improbable since most of my blog readers and friends live in different states, if not outside the country, or far away from our home in Florida.

Refusing to listen to me, Blondie said she read all about Internet travel in the book “Small Tales: The Big Adventures of Two Tiny Terriers,” my former attorney Ms. Foley Monster wrote, so the distance shouldn’t be a problem. She said she also knows about my own Internet traveling from my latest book, “Bioterrorism Seized The Sea,” but hasn’t read it yet.

I told her she had better read my book to find out what’s involved in Internet travel and why it wouldn’t work for anyone she wants to hire. She said the only reason she hasn’t read the book is because everybody mentions how adventurous and exciting it is and she’s afraid it might be too frightening for her.
Saturday, April 11, 2015

Spy experts at work

By Hobo Hudson

Here are more photos, incriminating cats as spy experts.


This is my other kitty brother. His name is Thomas. He innocently sits on the sofa and acts as if he’s getting ready to give himself a good bath. But look at that ear, how he has it pricked up. He’s listening to everything that’s going on inside the house.

In the next photo, you can see Thomas hiding on the windowsill behind the curtain. This is not only a ploy to spy on everyone and everything inside the house but also to keep track of the outside. 

Oops, Thomas caught me. I’d better run.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Cats are spying

By Hobo Hudson

Here are my first photos, illustrating that cats are experts at spying:


This is my kitty brother Tiger. He’s hiding behind the sofa, listening to everything that’s going on inside the house and peeking around the corner to stalk an innocent passerby.

This next photo shows the most scheming technique cats use for spying.  


Tiger is taking a nap. If you look closely, though, you see that his eyes are partly open, observing everything around him. Also, his ears are upright, catching every sound he hears.
Sunday, April 5, 2015

A favorite holiday recipe

By Hobo Hudson

My dear friends and readers: In honor of our holy holiday, I would like to share with you my favorite holiday recipe. I call it Peanut Stuffed Squirrel. It’s quick and easy to prepare.

Simply fill a large paper grocery bag about half full with large raw peanuts then walk outside and give the bag a few vigorous shakes.

You will soon see squirrels appearing from all the oak trees from blocks around, and they will come scurrying toward the sound of the peanuts being shaken. Just begin throwing peanuts to them until they are so stuffed they can’t move.

At this point, you should pick them up by their tails and place them in a shady place until they recover enough to walk off. This will prevent them becoming sunburned or dehydrated.

That’s all there is to it. You didn’t think I was going to cook them, did you? Heck, I’d never hurt a squirrel friend and they deserve a delicious holiday lunch too.
Saturday, April 4, 2015

Cats file complaints

By Hobo Hudson

Since the publication of my new book “Bioterrorism Seized The Sea,” cats are bombarding me again with complaints about how I portrayed them in my story. Doesn’t this bring back memories of the strike they instigated against my jeans business years ago?

This time, the cats are especially perturbed by my calling them sneaky and cunning. They are all up in arms about it and are even threatening to bring charges against me. On what grounds, I don’t know. I have to consult with River, my new attorney who took over Ms. Foley Monster’s law office.

In the meantime, I’m going to take photos of my cat siblings lurking around the corners or feigning a snooze ready to spy on me and my doggy brother, Wylie, and everybody else in the house. Then, I’m going to post the photos on my blog. This way, there is proof of the inappropriate behavior of cats, and it will support my stance about them the way I wrote in my book.   
Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Bioterrorism seized the sea: Hobo’s second book

By Wylie Hudson

I’m in charge of writing about Hobo’s second book “Bioterrorism Seized The Sea: A Hobo Hudson Adventure” so as to keep up the suspense about what has happened to Hobo.

The book is full of action and adventure and shows Hobo at his best performance. It all started out with a boat cruise through the Caribbean, compromised by terrorists, and ended up with …

Well, whatever the outcome is, I’m mighty proud that Hobo is my brother and he’s a true hero in my eyes. But I don’t want to give away too much. So, click here to order the book at and read about Hobo’s odyssey and its aftermath.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Book review

By Hobo Hudson

I finally had a chance to read the book “Small Tales: THE BIG ADVENTURES OF TWO TINY TERRIERS” my friends Foley and Pocket published recently. It’s fantastic, and I now understand why my mom was laughing so loud the whole time she hogged it.

I tell you, I had a hard time getting my paws on the book. First, Mom intercepted it as soon as it arrived, and then, Dad took it over. He promised me to give me the book when he was done reading it, but the cat had other plans. Blondie, one of my kitty sisters, hearing that cats and squirrels play an important role in the book, grabbed it just as Dad handed it to me and took off with it. I would have easily pulled Blondie back by her tail since she is slowing down in her old age, but I stumbled over Wylie, my doggy brother, with my kitty brother Thomas on his heels, both trying to join the chase.  

To make what had turned out to be a long chase short, I was the one hunting down Blondie. I ripped the book out of her claws and locked myself up in my office with it. I poured myself a Folitini, jumped on the chair in the corner and started reading, and I didn’t leave the office until I’d finished the book. It is funny and exciting and contains some awesome ideas only my fellow dogs could come up with.

Something makes me wonder, though. I’m not sure if human readers will get the underlying message of the book that we dogs—and I hate to admit it but also cats and some other critters—are far more advanced in reasoning and thus a much better fit to run the world than humans are. But you’ll have to find out for yourself. Read the book and see what you think. It’s available at To order it, click here.


Saturday, January 10, 2015

House exchange offer

By Hobo Hudson

Dear friends:

I’m at my wit’s end and desperately need a change of pace and some rest for a couple of days and am offering to exchange houses with any of you that can offer me peace and quiet and a soft bed for Saturday and Sunday night.

This is an opportunity for you to escape the ravages of winter and enjoy the warm Florida weather on a trial basis. For example, the outside temperature is currently 42 degrees and is forecast to rise to a balmy 70 degrees this afternoon. Tomorrow, it should reach 80 degrees in the afternoon.

My house will come complete with a freezer well stocked with steaks and an outside grill so that you can cook your lunch to your liking. There is also a pool for you water lovers, which is normally off limits because Mom doesn’t like wet dogs in the house.

Disclosure: The reason for this offer is that my house is very noisy right now because Mom is reading Foley’s new book and every time I try to snooze, I am awakened by Mom’s laughter. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh this much in years. This shouldn’t be a drawback to you northern pups because you’ll want to spend all your time snoozing outside in what you think is the warm sun.

If any of you would like to see what I’m complaining about, you can preview the book at


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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