This is my third Boston Terrier. He was a rescue, and I figured he already had a name but since he wouldn't tell me what it was I'd have to think up something else to call him. And what do you call a lone traveling man on the roadway? So that's how he came to be called Hobo. He is large for his breed, so we also call him Biggie Smalls, and we sing to him "Big-Biggie-Biggie, can'chu see?"
The kennel found him while we were in Germany and they were dog sitting our Gretchen and Ingrid. When we came back the owner was extraordinarily chatty about her events the day before, all while walking us back and ending in front of this fella's crate.
Now, I know a sales job when I hear one and I must say I never dreamed of this one. The 2 girls barely got along and I couldn't imagine adding a third to that near lethal mix, but I must admit it was a true blessing, because the trio gets along great.
Today Hobs was just not wanting to eat. He was looking sweetly as ever at me, and wagging the entire lower half of his body, but not wanting his kibble. I took it to the kitchen and made him special breakfast, only to have it come up (not on the tile of course but one of the few area rugs available to barf on) around lunch time. Poor guy! Send some love his way today.