Bo Hoefinger - Bad to the Bone: Memoirs Of A Doggie Blogger

Lets get this clear right away: Im a dog. Im one-foot-ten and weigh sixty-three pounds, and although Im a mutt on the outside, Im a purebred on the inside. My good nature comes from the golden retriever side of the family, while my stubbornness is clearly from my chowchow bloodlines. Ive got Rastafarian ears, a black tongue for licking, and paws that should be on a dog twice my size.

I type sixty words a minute.

My name is Bo.

Im a senior dog. In fact, Im in what God calls bonus time. As any experienced dog will tell you, the desire to leave our urine stain on the proverbial fire hydrant of life grows stronger the longer the bond between you and owner exists. For me, the yearning is strong (sometimes as much as eleven times a day).

Some dogs memorialize themselves by using their teeth to carve their stories into the family furniture. Others prefer barking out an oral history. But Ive always been a writer.

I usually do it in the snow, but for longevity sake, Ive put paw to paper this time.

The unauthorized biography you hold in your paws was written without the express written consent of the two humans involved in these adventures. Seeing as owners never seem to ask their canines for permission when writing about them I extend the same discourtesy, at least until someone leaves seven pounds of unmarked ground beef at a designated drop-off of my choosing.

I want to assure you, this book provides you with the unique opportunity to share episodes in my life as they unfolded, through the eyes of mans best friend. What youre getting is 100 percent genuine Mr. Bo Hoefinger and family. The characters in this book, the stories, and the thoughts are all real. The names may have been changed to protect the innocent.

So take pleasure in the world as I have seen it, experienced it, and lived it.

I welcome you to my mind and my story

On a snowy Christmas Eve, less than ten days after I was rescued from an upstate N.Y. prison, I sat in front of a crackling fire surrounded by the two doting humans who had saved me. The male human began to tell a story, specifically the tale of why I was adopted. I listened intently, for surely there was wisdom behind his words.

A long time ago, in the little town of Albany, lived a young woman. That woman, Bo, was your mother. She did her community work, was kind to others, and was always looking for a job. As you know, it took many years for her to find love, but she finally got her man and married him just eight months ago. That great man was me.

I saw him flash an adoring look at the woman in the room. I guess he hadnt yet realized hed already bought the cow. Making goo-goo eyes at her wasnt going to get him more milk. He wasnt a dog, after all.

He continued. As you can imagine there have been a lot of firsts over the past several months. The latest being the Christmas holiday. I was looking forward to it, but not as much as your mother. In fact she was so excited about decorating the Christmas tree, she could hardly contain herself.

I understood her excitement, for I enjoyed decorating trees, too. I suspect, though, my mother and I might have a difference of opinion on what one should use to decorate said Christmas tree.

My father carried on. Unfortunately, on the day your mother decided to trim the tree, I had already made other arrangements to go out. Although I knew this did not sit well with her, I foolishly left to attend to my plans anyway.

Your mother was so upset with this, it caused her to put in motion a most devious plan. A plan with long-term implications and one that would provide her companionship during the holiday season for years to come.

Thats right, Bo, her plan was to adopt a dog.

Well, at least now I knew who the smarter of the two is.

When I returned from my errand late that night

My mother finally spoke up. Tell him what the errand was, honey.

In a lowered, sheepish tone he indulged her request. When I returned from watching the football game with the guys, it was very cold in the house. Your mother didnt speak to me for two days.

Just when I was beginning to think shed never speak to me again, she called me at the office.

Do you have anything you want to say to me? she asked.

I didnt know what to say so I didnt say anything at all. Thats when I heard a dog bark in the background. So I asked your mother where she was.

Your mother replied, and I might add, rather abruptly, Im at the animal shelter. Im adopting a dog to keep me company. You know, to provide me a little companionship, to help me around the house, to have something that I can count on. Some of the things I have been missing in my life.

Then she laid down the law, Bo. She said, So, if you want any input into what kind of dog we get, I suggest you get your butt over here. Otherwise, youll just have to leave it up to me to pick out a good one.

Well the wheels of destiny had been set in motion. I raced to the shelter. Once I saw you, I knew you were the one.

He lowered his head, put it up against mine, and kissed me, as if to take credit for my release from canine prison.

I sat there, astounded by the story I had just heard.

There was no wise decision making behind adopting me. I wasnt chosen out of love, or to bring joy into someones heart, as so many of my former cage mates had been. No, I was adopted as a reminder to my father that my mother, and her feelings, must always come first.

Simply stated, I was a revenge adoption.