Ruby Rose and the Hobo Code

 

I stay inside when it is hot out. My resting bitch face makes breathing thick air like trying to suck a hearty milkshake through a recycled paper straw.

By the end of the week the weather was comfortable and I emerged like a bear who hit the snooze alarm from May to August. The flowers were worse for wear. Flowers that sprout in April in the northwest are not supposed to survive a hundred degree heat.

I noticed some strange scratchings on the side of the house. My parents didn’t notice. They don’t have a dog’s memory. We memorize all we see, and if we see something different, we bark.

The scratches seemed to mean something, so when I returned back inside after a hearty five minutes enjoying the summer day I went on my I Paw and investigated.

I learned the scratches were based on the Hobo code, which was used by vagrants in the thirties to communicate which towns were safe, and not what Angel Hobo’s dad posts with lots of typos.

The code was written by dirty kitty, or most frequent under the porch resident,

The first scratchings symbolized that it was a safe place to sleep.Next to that was a fork, signalling that my house was a place you could get fed upon demand. Next to that was a man in a dress meaning if you asked the man who lives here for food he will give it to you right away. The drawing meant a man bitch lives here.

Next to that was a small drawing of a bed meaning there was a blanket under the porch for warmth and comfort.

Finally there was a picture of a dog’s face with a discoloration under the nose. It took me a lot of investigating to understand what this meant: The Little Dog who lives here thinks she is Hitler.

Damn Hobo cats. You open the space under the porch for them and they turn on you.