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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
To order
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.
Favorite sites
Powered by Blogger.