Friday, January 29, 2016

Settling in

By Sabrina Hudson

As soon as Hobo invited me inside the house the first time, he explained that my future duties would include, in addition to being a part-time lap warmer, to stay awake all night to keep the mice from nibbling on Dad’s toes and also to awaken Dad promptly at 2 o’clock in the morning.

When the magic night arrived and Hobo told me it was time to stay inside and assume my duties, I was all prepared. Dad picked me up and put me on the bed beside him, but I knew this wasn’t the best way to keep the mice away, so I jumped down and made a thorough inspection of the entire bedroom and then lay down across the open bedroom door to prevent any mice from entering the room.

This proved to be a long night as I alternated my vision from the hallway to Dad sleeping and from Thomas peacefully sleeping at Dad’s feet to the clock’s hands ever so slowly turning to mark the passage of time until the hands finally showed 2 a.m.  

The bedroom was dark, but I could discern a black mass where Dad was lying on his side. I launched myself at what I thought would be the edge of the bed but misjudged the distance and landed right on top of Dad’s side. Feeling myself start to slip off, I instinctively extended my front claws and dug in. However, I continued to slip, leaving ten neat tracks of red across Dad’s chest. Dad screamed and bolted upright, jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. I, of course, ran for safety.

Thomas sauntered out into the living room a few minutes later and coaxed me out of my hiding place behind the sofa. He marveled at the unique way I had of waking Dad but explained to me it might be better if I just jumped up on the bed beside Dad and gently poked him with my paw or tickled his nose with the tip of my tail.

After a long while, Dad came stumbling through the living room covered with so many bandages he looked like a mummy and told us that he had been attacked by a wildcat while he was sleeping and he might have to hire a pit bull to protect himself. Luckily, Thomas didn’t give me away.

Dad went into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee and arranged his breakfast on the breakfast bar with Thomas observing closely. When all was ready and Dad sat down to eat, Thomas jumped onto the nearest dining room chair so he could reach Dad’s fingers for a handout. He then called me to come over and whispered into my ear to rub against Dad’s leg and Dad would give me some tasty tidbits also. I did as instructed and received what I thought was a wonderful breakfast.

After we ate everything Dad offered, Thomas hopped down and explained to me this had been just an appetizer and Mom would give us breakfast later when she ate.

True to Thomas’ prediction, Mom soon came out of the bedroom, and I walked with her into the kitchen and jumped into the chair Thomas had occupied. Mom told me she would give me breakfast in just a minute and took out a bowl and poured some dry stuff into it and then filled the bowl with milk. However, instead of giving it to me, she turned and walked away.

I was naturally curious about what my breakfast was to be, so I jumped onto the breakfast bar to check it out. A quick bite told me the dry stuff wasn’t very good but the milk was delicious, and I was happily lapping it up when lightning started to flash and thunder filled the room. The ceiling started to vibrate, and I was afraid it would crash down at any moment, and so I dove under the kitchen table and closed my eyes. When the thunder finally began to abate, I cautiously opened an eye and saw the lightning was coming from Mom’s eyes and the thunder from her lips.

“SABRINA!” she screamed. “BAD CAT! That was MY breakfast! Yours will be on the floor in a few minutes.”

I guess I stepped on my tail that time but things went pretty smoothly after that, although it took a little while to become accustomed to being a lap warmer, but now I really enjoy it and hop into Mom’s or Dad’s lap as soon as they sit down.


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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