Dog Gone
What did the indian say when his dog fell off a cliff?
Dog gone.
However politically incorrect this joke is, I am using it to share a few observations about life without Hobo. The first week was emotionally tough. I thought about him a lot and just felt bad. This last weekend, I did some yard work. As is my tradition, upon completion of my chores, I sat in the yard to enjoy a brewski. Usually I do this with Hobo sitting by me, but in light of his recent death, I sat by his grave. It was a little sad, but it was also very similar to the real thing. I felt his presence there and it was comfortable.
The fleas miss Hobo too. Without him, they are biting us - so I am spraying the little devils.
The other day I dropped an ice cube. I started to reach around the refrigerator and throw it in Hobo's bowl, but I remembered the bowl was not there.
Barbara says she has to pick up dropped food from the floor when she is cooking. In the past, she just called Hobo if he was not already on it. The dog was a good vacuum cleaner.
John's allergies have much improved now that a dog is not in the house.
When I cut the grass now, I do not have to move his rope.
I can walk through the yard and give no thought to stepping in dog doo.
The house is much cleaner. No dog poop or pee on the floor any more.
I don't have to tell him to stop licking the plates when the dishwasher is open.
There won't be any pile of shoes on the floor after a thunderstorm from Hobo taking refuge in the corner of the closet.
The house has lost some sounds like his nails clicking on the tile floor and his dog tag clanking when he flops his ears. No sound now of breathing in the night or deep sighs from the floor at the foot of my bed. No lap lap lap sound from the toilet as he quenches his thirst.
It is safe to lay your plate down while you go to the kitchen for some water. Hobo will not help himself to your meal.
I can leave the door open and not worry about Hobo going outside.
We don't have to hurry home to let him out.
When I leave the house, I don't have to say, "See ya Hobes, we'll be back."
When I come home, I don't have to look for him to see what he is doing.
Each day is a new discovery about life without Hobo. Some discoveries are pleasant surprises, while other realizations are little pins in my heart.
Things are improving I suppose, but dog gone I miss that dog.
Until the next time
John Strain