Thursday, February 25, 2016

My skin surgery

By Hobo Hudson

Early this week, I had surgery big time. The vet cut me open in six places. He removed two tumors on my chest—which I hope will be benign—one skin tag on my head, another one on my cheek and three on my back, two of which he could reach with only one incision. I thanked him for it. 

But that’s not all. While the vet had me on the operating table, he also cleaned my teeth and found out that he needed to pull three of them. Don’t think I’m toothless yet. I still have more than enough teeth left to devour a nice juicy steak without any problems, only I have to wait a few days for it to happen. I have to let the tooth extractions heal. My mom commented that I have now lost my fish breath, and I guess it should make me happy and let me forget about the pain.

But seriously, I feel pretty good, and considering that I will be 16 years old in less than a month, I went through the whole affair like a champ. While Mom and Dad had been worried sick about my surgery, I said to the vet’s nurse who called the next day asking how I was doing, “What surgery? I’m doing fine as usual.”

I didn’t tell her, though, how much I relish the special treatment I receive at home while I recuperate. Mom and Dad shower me with extra petting—hugs don’t work that well because of all the sutures I have—and extra praise, and they even bought me gourmet doggy food. Of course, my doggy brother and my kitty siblings are constantly on their paws to accommodate me in any way they can, although I have to be on my toes while eating or Wylie will try to steal my gourmet food.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

The Ruskin Doggy Band

By Wylie Hudson

I’ve decided to follow in my mom’s footsteps and become an artist. Not an author, though. I’m leaving the book writing to Mom and Hobo. I’m seeing myself more as a performer and thinking of becoming a musician.

Our neighbor Bongo, a huge black Labrador, and I are seriously considering to form the Ruskin Doggy Band. Every time we meet, we practice singing together, and it’s getting better and better. Bongo always sets the pitch and I tune in and from there on, lovely tones come pouring out of our mouths, all in perfect harmony. It sounds fantastic, and it just comes naturally to us.
Selling our music on the Internet will bring in a lot of kibbles, I’m sure about it, and I’ll finally be known for something besides being Hobo’s second paw. Our music might even become a bigger hit than Hobo’s books.
I don’t know how, when and where we’ll do our first recording, and I’m letting Hobo take care of it. He is more experienced in entrepreneur stuff than Bongo and I. But we’re already giving out free passes to the recording session. So, if you’re interested in seeing and hearing Bongo and me perform our musical duet, email for a free ticket.

My friend and singing partner Bongo


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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