Monday, September 3, 2012

A Shaggy Dog Tale


by Hobo of Sketch A Falling Star by Sharon Pape

Hello there.  Hobo's the name, loving's my game. I'm a hundred pounds of fur, fun and devotion. You might say I've had a stock market sort of life with lots of ups and downs. I come from a long line of mixed breeds. Pedigreed snobs may turn their noses up at the likes of me, but I just have myself a good, old chuckle,  'cause the joke's on them. Those blue bloods come with a hefty price tag, but my heritage has made me a lot stronger and healthier than they'll ever be.

When I was old enough to be weaned, I was given to a young couple who showered me with love. What a puppyhood I had -- frolicking, rollicking good times! But then I grew into my full size, and my humans had a baby. It was good-bye, so long, and nice knowing you. I wound up at the local pound where I spent six months with a constant headache from the noise all my brethren were making. I was nearly at my wit's end when Brenda Hartley walked in and saved me.  She came looking for a dog, and lucky me, I won her heart. Big as I am,  I have to admit that I'm really quite irresistible. Think  bearded collie, English sheepdog, golden retriever and throw in a bit of great Pyrenee for good measure.

My years with Brenda were wonderful in spite of her other dog, a Maltese by the name of Tootsie. For the life of me I couldn't understand what she saw in that furry excuse for a dog. One decent hug, one misstep in the dark and it would have been bye-bye Toostie. But hey, my motto has always been "live and let live." So we were one big, happy family until someone murdered Brenda. With visions of the pound swirling in my head, I once again waited for the humans to decide my fate. You have no idea how frustrating it is not to have any say in your own destiny. But I must have a guardian angel, because just in the nick of time Rory McCain rescued me. It seemed like everything would be fine until I met her housemate. Now I'm a pretty adaptable fellow, but I have to admit it took me a while to adjust to living with a ghost. Marshal Zeke Drummond had his own issues about living with me. But since neither one of us was willing to leave Rory and strike out on our own, we learned to make the best of it. In fact, it wasn't too long before I grew quite fond of the marshal. It's not hard to appreciate someone who saves your life. And then when I saved Rory's life the bond between the three of us became unbreakable.

Days around here are never dull what with Rory and Zeke investigating murders and the old lady down the street who's been communicating with spirits ever since her stroke. She's the only one outside our little household who knows about Zeke, and I sure didn't tell her. Mark my word, that weirdo knows a lot more than she's been letting on and that's just fine with me. For as long as it lasts, I'm holding onto that old theory that ignorance is bliss.

Well it's been fun chatting with you, but there are squirrels that need chasing and balls that need retrieving. Sure it's a lot of work, but somebody has to do it.

2 comments:

  1. We know all about losing all your loved ones and ending up in a place with lots of other dogs until the people there become your pack, and then being taken home with a new person to love--in our case, Willow, and we're now very happy! And if ghosts are around, they're very quiet.

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  2. Wow, Hobo. You lost a lot of good homes. Well, I don't know about that first one. I'm glad they were kind to you as a puppy, though. I wasn't so lucky. The mere thought of being caged throws me into a state of terror. I hope things work out for you this time. I've heard people say third time is the charm. Hope that's true for you!

    ~ Trixie

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