Hobo Visits

Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Psalm 100:3

Normally a two basset hound family, we currently have a third hound visiting for the week. His name is Hobo and his people are visiting Disney World this week. While they visit Mickey Mouse he is getting to spend the week with Sam and Tilly.

The first time I saw Hobo he was half-starved and scavenging for food out in the country. We were visiting my mother-in-law who is not a fan of dogs. Ignoring her raised eyebrows, I slipped Hobo some of the leftovers from our Thanksgiving meal. When I mentioned that he obviously needed a forever home with someone who would take care of him, there was no ignoring my husband's raised eyebrows.

As indulgent as Jerry is with me, he does have his limits. Two basset hounds seems to be one of them.

But alas, basset rule number one: don't touch the puppy and basset rule number two: don't name the dog had already both been violated. So, I snapped a couple of pictures of him with the camera on my cell phone, and began to contemplate how to find Hobo a home. Waiting for a meeting to begin at work one day, a conversation on dogs came up and offered the opportunity for Hobo's story to be told.

A friend of mine was hooked at the first glimpse of his cute little face. She agreed to give him a home if we could still find him. Jerry was all too willing to transport the dog to Austin to go home with anybody else but me. He was just delighted that Hobo had found a home before he had to do more than raise his eyebrows to keep the basset census at two.

Hobo loves his forever home. And, well he should. He has his own crate, his own food bowl, and his own dog bed. He also is given doggie door privileges and gets to sleep with his new owner. What's not to love? He knows that he has been saved and is one of the most loyal and affectionate dogs I have ever seen.

So this week I am delighting in looking out in the yard and seeing my thundering herd of bassets race to the back steps when I call. Each of them obviously a basset and yet uniquely different, just watching them brings me great joy until they actually reach me - the smell somewhat sooner than the slobber on my feet . But, they are mine (except for the visiting Hobo), and somehow I overlook those frivolous flaws just because I can.

And, every so often, I reflect on how like a basset hound we are in our relationship with the Lord. It is He who made us and we are His. Aren't you delighted He overlooks your smell and slobber?