Hobo's Photos

A Little Bit About Hobo

Breed: Mixed

Gender: Male

Favorite Toy: Tennis ball

Favorite Treat: Chew-Eez

Favorite Game: Get the ball, Hobie!

Favorite Pastime: Garbage picking

Special Skill: Deflating tennis balls

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Hobo slept only outside at first, in spite of our attempts to lure him into the warmth of our home. Time... and extremely cold temps... won him over. Despite his "street-loner" attitude and obvious battle scars, he adapted well to home-life. (Except that he hated our first dog, Roxie... and she, him. There were many skirmishes during those first weeks!)

Initially, because of his "busted truster", we had to watch him around visitors. My brother Dave... in typical fashion... noted Hobie's many physical flaws at their first meeting. I took Hobie's face in my hands and cooed, "Poor Hobie, God didn't give you any gifts."

"Yes, he did," my brother piped-up, "He gave him you." (Part of the reason he wants to come back as one of my dogs.)

Hobo was deathly afraid of fireworks. (The details in the following tale were provided by our wheelchair-bound next door neighbor, who witnessed the two-minute mania.) While we were both at work, a neighborhood boy, knowing of Hobie's fear, came to our front yard to set-off some firecrackers. We lived on the 2nd floor. Within seconds, Hobie crashed through the windowpane onto the ground in front of him. He (the boy) didn't try that again. Hobie was gimpy for a couple of days and had a cut on his leg, but healed-up just fine.

In time, Hobie came to know that strangers were friends he hadn't met yet.

He learned to play ball, and came a-runnin' to the sound of tennis ball cans opening. (But he would NOT share his toys with Roxie!)

In his Alzheimer-y old age, he'd often wander off to "hunt for food" in the manner perfected in his early "street-dog" years. He'd cruise the "Garbage Day Curbside Buffet" for leftovers and scraps.