Hugo Says

Hugo is my not-quite-three-year-old Boxer. He is a very complex dog: he can be playful, but then suddenly cranky and sullen. He'll want to eat whatever you're eating, but when you finally give him a little bit of what he's been literally drooling for, he'll roll it around his palate a few seconds, spit it out, then stare at you in disgust, as if you've just pranked him.

I think he may be an old soul; while he does have typical Boxer traits (jumps, plays, kinda dumb, wiggles his butt a lot), he does appear to get lost in thought. After a few minutes of Deep Thoughts, he'll come over to me, whine a little, and want an ear scratch or belly rub. He'll thank me with a hearty lick to the face, then settle down for one of several daily naps, usually right next to me on the couch.

Sometimes I'll talk to him about my day, or things that bother me. I know he listens because if I raise my voice, he'll appear quite concerned. Sometimes he'll "talk" back, a sort of Scooby Doo sounding retort, and if I don't let him get air time, he'll get frustrated and speak louder and louder until he starts barking at me in utter exasperation.

So to honor him, I am calling this blog "Hugo Howls". I want a place where I can talk a bit about the very real issues of having an autoimmune disease that literally saps my life energy, or what it can be like being an old-school visual artist, or the pitfalls of dealing with chronic pain. Sometimes I want to talk about my dogs (I also have a Boxer named Duke), weird things about my hometown, or the art of fishkeeping. Really though, I just like talking a lot.