Hobo Hudson's Pet Finder Machine Brings His Parents A New Dog

Hobo Hudson has always been an extraordinary dog.  Author, investor, business owner, adventurer, he is a trailblazer and a true renaissance dog.

I missed my long chats with Hobo when we became separated after I arrived at the Bridge.  Now that he is with me again I drop by his home every morning for coffee.  This morning I found him in his backyard, sitting in a lawn chair, looking over his pool, deep in thought.

“What is wrong, old friend?” I asked.

“I went to visit my dad in his dreams last night,” Hobo said.  “He said Wyley is missing me and needs a sibling.  Of course, I recognized the fib.  While Wyley does miss me, so do my parents, and they are the ones  longing for the sound of four more paws on the floor in the morning.”

There’s a standard procedure we angels follow to find our parents’ next pup.  We zip from shelters to rescues searching for candidates, then interview each one until we find the most suitable unrescued pup.  From there we whittle the applicants down until we find the perfect dog. We then enter our parents’ dreams where we plant the idea that they need to go to where the dog is currently inhabiting.  Inevitably dog and humans are united, and the angel’s work is done.  I asked Hobo if he was going to follow the traditional route on his quest to locate his parents’ next companion.

I asked Hobo if he would be taking the traditional route to get his parents a new dog, but of course, our friends had other ideas. He asked me to follow him to his laboratory.  He had put together a massive contraption with tubes, a soup spoon, a bootie, eyeglasses, a scale, a fan, various weights and a dog bowl.  “This is my perfect pet finding machine,” Hobo boasted.  “I lick the soup spoon to send my taste, look in the eyeglasses to copy my pupils, step in the bootie to measure my paws, get on the scale for a body scan and lick the bowl for my texture.  The machine does the rest and, when we go to the printer the perfect dog for my parents will be revealed.”

Hobo went to the printer.  “And here it is.  Hond, an Icelandic Sheepdog in Akureyri Iceland, a perfect match.”

“Hobo, old chum,” I said delicately.  “Do you think your dad is going to go all the way to Iceland to get a dog?”

“He always takes my advice.  I am sure he will be more than willing to go a little out of his way for the perfect dog.”

I told Hobo I had to go and promised to check in the next morning.  When I did, he told me, “Bad news. You were right; dad doesn’t want to go to Iceland.”

I said I was sorry and suggested he limit his search.  “Already done,” Hobo said.  “You won’t believe this, but there was a match at the pound by my dad’s house.  A little Chihuahua mix.  She was almost as good a match as the sheepdog.”

“Excellent, Hudson you have done it again,” I said.  “I suppose you told your dad the right pound to visit and told the lucky little pup to act excited when he arrived?

Hobo shook his head.  “It has to occur naturally for my dad.  I convinced him to go to a pound, but he doesn’t know which one, and I told the pup to be aloof when he first arrives.”

I was sure this was a recipe for disaster.  Hobo invited me to watch his dad meet the new dog on Hobo’s Tunes TV.  We saw his dad go to the wrong pound.  “Hobo, what if he gets the wrong dog?” I asked anxiously.

Hobo shook his head.  “It won’t happen, Foley.  Dad will know the perfect match when he sees it.”
At the next pound, I immediately spotted the chihuahua and waited for her to react with excitement when Hobo’s dad beckoned her.  But the dog just stared at the wall ignoring Hobo’s dad as he tried to get her attention. He turned away. 

“Hobo, he’s leaving!” I cried.

“She knows what to do,” Hobo said.  That is when the chihuahua got down and began barking frantically.  Hobo’s dad stopped.  “Dad prefers to be chosen,” Hobo said with a smile.

We watched as Hobo’s dad made the arrangements to adopt the pup.  I was back at Hobo’s house on Friday to see his dad bring the rescued dog, now named Zoe, home. All the members of the Hudson pack, except for Thomas, the cat, were enthralled with Zoe.  I got up and told Hobo I was relieved everything worked out.

Hobo took a sip of coffee.  “Not yet,” he said. “I gave Zoe a case of kennel cough.”

“What did you do that for?” I asked shocked.

“Zoe and Dad have to bond over a stressful situation, once that is done Zoe is truly home.”
Hobo’s dad and Zoe spent the night secluded in a room together as the little dog coughed.  The next morning Zoe got the medicine she needed, and her dad began taking care of her and bonding.

Hobo looked at his dad snuggled with Zoe and turned off the Tunes’ TV.  “Now my job is done,” he said and drank the rest of is coffee with a self-satisfied look on his face.

River is On the Chain Gang

I have become a member of a chain gang, and I have not been convicted of any crime.

Before my sentence, when Pocket and I were taken out together, Daddy held our four-foot purple Kong leashes in his right hand.  If Mommy is with us she holds Daddy’s left hand while we walk. (Even our older neighbors, who have been married 700 years, find this behavior schmoopie).  Pocket and I walk ahead of our parents two feet apart. This gives my sister and I a chance to do our own thing. We can sniff what we want to sniff. We can give each other a wide berth during bodily functions.  And we can both suddenly, while walking in front of our parents stop, almost getting rear-ended and causing a two person and two dog crash.

I had no idea there was any problem with this arrangement.  Sure, Pocket and I, during our walks, would continually dip behind one another so that we could be the one closest to our parents.  We continued to do so until our leashes became twisted 10,000 times like a big, long pretzel which caused there to be no room between the two of us and Pocket to end up riding home on my back.  

On Sunday Daddy came home with this tiny, peculiar red lead.  It had a circle, then a minuscule leash, which split into two different strands, and, at the end of them were two clasps.  I figured the old man had gone bonkers and was planning on leashing two squirrels together and then sell tickets to see the little varments fought it out in a pit.

Daddy took one of our purple leashes and hooked it to the circle on the little red lead.  He then called us to come on to the porch, and he stealthy hooked me to one end and Pocket to the other.   We looked at one another and tried to walk in the opposite direction. I slowly was able to move forward, but it was like I was dragging a five pound stone.  I turned around to see that stone was Pocket, desperately trying to hold her position, as her paws dug into the porch carpet.

First, they took us outside.  It was so embarrassing. The leash was purple and the stupid thing connecting us was red.  How garish! Pocket was a foot away from me, and no matter how much I tried to pull away from her the distance did not lessen.  When she stopped to poop I had to stand within smelling distance, and even worse, when I pooped, she was right there looking at me with those penetrating brown eyes.  It was very disconcerting. Also, Pocket is a pavement urineater, and I can’t scoot away from her puddle, so my paws get wet.

We still managed to twist up the stupid little leads connecting us.  I thought we had defeated it, but Daddy was able to untwist it easily.  Drats! I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of this thing. We are destined to be on the chain gang for the rest of our lives.


If anyone has a file send it to us, I would appreciate it.  I love my sister, but I hate sharing the bathroom facilities with her.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

I don't think you know how this game is played.  Once again I am going to count to ten and you need to go hide.

Monday Question

How many times do you eat each day?  Do you have any "human" food in your meal?  Are there any supplements you add to your food?  Are you a free feeder?  Do you have a bowl?   Does your mom cook for you?  If you eat kibble do you have the same type of food with the same protein each time?

Wow, you ask a lot of questions.  We eat twice a day but I have a little plate of food at night while River has her treat bone.  We have pumpkin and a few slivers of turkey with our food.  We don't have any supplements but we have started taking something to help my anal gland.  We don't free feed.  We eat off a plate and we make a mess.  No, mom doesn't cook for us.  We have the same food all the time because of my IBS. - Pocket 

Bailey is our August 26, 2018 Pup of the Week

I hate when two friends come to the Bridge during the same week.  I prefer to write about one angel a week. A Pup of the Week blog is one of a dog’s last big shout-outs on social media, and each dog should be the star of their own blog.  Bailey, whose pack is celebrated on the Portuguese Water Blog arrived at the Bridge ten days ago but, since poor Sully arrived first, I wrote about him last week. Thankfully we did not have any friends’ passing over this week so I can give Bailey the tribute she deserves.

I first saw Bailey’s silhouette as the big, black dog quickly crossed the Bridge while giving the water a wary look.  She ran up the stairs. Cancer, in the form of a large mass in her chest that had attacked Bailey’s body and kept her in pain her later years was gone  She kept running faster, enjoying her newfound body until she stopped on the landing in front of me.

“Welcome Bailey,” I said. “I couldn’t help but admire your running.  Were you anxious to come here?”

“No,” Bailey replied.  “I hate the water.”

“Isn’t it odd to be a water dog and not like the water?”

“No more off than to be a Yorkshire Terrier and not like pudding,” Bailey said.  I knew I was going to like her immediately.

Bailey never knew a mom but her mom.  She was the first person to hold Bailey when she entered the world, the fifth of her litter.  She was a social climber from the first. She was trying to crawl out of the birth litter box before her eyes opened, at four weeks she was climbing a three-foot enclosure, at six months a ladder to see what was beyond the yard.

She was the runt of the litter, and her sisters bullied her a bit, but she still loved them fiercely.  She adored her stuffies too and first thing in the morning she would choose one to accompany her wherever she went.

Two of Bailey’s siblings who had gone to the Bridge before she did pushed a box towards her.  Bailey ran over and gave them a big hug she reserved for her parents. She opened the box and found three of her favorite toys, her best friend, the Big Red Monkey, and two others, Chris Moose and Rottie Pup. 

Bailey was thrilled to have her babies back. She asked me how that was possible and I told her they existed at her house too. At Rainbow Bridge, you can take it with you and leave it behind simultaneously.

Bailey turned to me.  “I have to thank my parents, for everything they did for me.  They helped me come into the world when I was a sightless little pup, and they aided me out when I was an old suffering dog.  There is nothing I had that I do not owe to them including mortal and immortal life. I must thank them.”

Bailey’s angel family and I assured her that her parents knew how thankful she was every time she looked up at them with love in her deep brown eyes, and now she could visit them in their dreams to keep assuring them.  They may not remember the visits in their head but they would in their hearts. I told her she was now part of a big pack of Portuguese Water Dog Angels who would watch over their parents and pack.

The WaterDogs had a huge villa built on the edge of our space.  Bailey picked up his three toys in his mouth and ran after her siblings to start her life as an angel.

And she promises to spend every day to make her parents know how thankful she is for the beautiful beginning of her mortal life and a peaceful end to it.

Summer Brings Music Into her Mom's LIfe

When Summer came to Rainbow Bridge, we knew we would not be seeing her much because she was going to be spending her days at her lake watching over her momma and her house as an angel.   Little did we know she wasn’t at the pond but working overtime to find her parents a new dog to love.

Summer knew she not only needed a dog which her mom would cherish but one who deserved it.  Summer was searching for an unrescued dog who would appreciate the attention, the toys, the love, and most of all Lake Lutgen that sits on the family property.

Summer decided to start her search in nearby St. Louis.  After interviewing several dogs, she saw one who was not on her list, a pittie dutifully looking after the other dogs.

Summer approached the dog and said she was interviewing pups to be her new mom’s heart baby. The pittie smiled and said thank you, but she had been in the shelter for a year and had given up on ever finding a forever home.  Her job was to comfort the new dogs who arrived at the shelter and ease their transition until they found their forever home.

“I have seen many dogs come and go and I am so happy for all of them,” the pittie said.  “If I can’t be one then I am thrilled to help the other dogs become one.”
Summer knew this was the dog for her mom.

“Would you like to have a forever home with the best mom in the world?” Summer asked.  

The pittie demurred.  “It has been so long since I have been in a home I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”  Summer told the pittie that she would be there to help her, but Summer was sure the dog would have no problem adjusting to living in a house, especially with her mom.

That night Summer went into her mom’s dreams and whispered to her about the pittie in the St. Louis shelter.  That morning Momma Debra knew she needed to go to the shelter to see this dog.

The next morning Summer was back with the pittie as her mom was traveling to the rescue.  Summer told the that all she needed to do was be herself.  The pittie said being herself had never gotten her adopted before, but she would try.  Then Momma Debra walked in.  “She is beautiful,” the pittie said, and Momma Debra said the same about the pittie.  Summer knew her work was done.  She faded to the back of the enclosure and watched when Mama Debra took her new baby, now named Music, for her freedom ride to her forever home.

It was a bittersweet moment for Summer.  She had never seen her mom love another dog before.  She was so happy for both of them.  She had done an Angel’s duty and found a dog who would love her mom, and her mom would love back.  But a part of Summer wished it was her sitting next to her mom in the car, and part of her mom wished the same.

But those thoughts quickly washed away.  The new had begun, and, while Summer would never be forgotten for a single second, it was time for Momma Debra to give Music a fantastic life and for Music to find more love in one glimpse from her mom than she had ever felt in her lifetime. 

Soon Music was at her forever home, playing with toys, getting love, looking over Lake Lutgen, while Summer was at the Bridge, looking in the water, seeing Music and her mom playing, and, with a tear in her eye, Summer felt a beautiful sense of accomplishment as both Music and Momma Debra smiled and laughed.


And then Summer smiled and began laughing a deep rich laugh. She put her paw on the water where Music and Momma Debra were shown; then Summer ran off into the hills to have an awesome adventure of her own.