Hobbes
February 12, 2010 – April 22, 2024
We never intended to be a two dog family. Daisy, our Westie, kept our house in a state of perpetual chaos, but as I’ve written about my beloved friend and arch nemesis, she wasn’t affectionate. My eight year old daughter, who had done all of the work in convincing us to get a dog, sobbed uncontrollably when she realized that the puppy that she had so desperately begged for wanted absolutely nothing to do with cuddling.
Truth be told, we were all a little disappointed. We loved her, but she was not having any of that nonsense. Daisy also needed more activity than I could provide to keep her happy, so secretly, I started searching for a second dog. I looked for a rescue dog that would meet our allergist’s requirement for a non-shedding breed and who would get along well with Daisy. When I found a Cairn Terrier in need of a good home, I brought her along to meet him. It did not go well. As I crawled under a bench to retrieve my traumatized Westie, I realized that she needed any second dog to be a puppy.
Searching for a small, non-shedding dog with a more lovable disposition led me to the Havanese, and we were extremely lucky to find a breeder who only had one litter a year and lived nearby. Hobbes was born on February 12th, 2010, exactly 2 years to the day after Daisy’s birthday.
My husband picked him out of the litter. He had been born first and the breeder nicknamed him Neil Diamond for the little diamond-shaped patch of white fur on his chest. We planned on calling him Hobbes. My son had already shown himself to be as naughty as Bill Watterson’s Calvin, so I felt like we needed a Hobbes to complete our family. We could not wait until we could bring him home.
A few days before we were supposed to pick him up, I got a call from his breeder letting me know that the entire litter had Parvovirus and that they were being treated at a veterinary hospital and that she wasn’t sure that he would live. It was a scary wait, but with round the clock care, all of the puppies survived.
When we brought him home, Hobbes looked like a small ball of black fur. We introduced him to Daisy in the backyard, and it was love at first sight for her. It was fascinating to watch all of her maternal instincts kick in and to see her gentle side. Their first run down the hill in the backyard is etched in my memory as Hobbes tumbled as much as he ran trying gamely to keep up with her.
Hobbes was incredibly easy to potty train. It helped considerably that he had Daisy to show him the ropes. He obligingly did whatever she did. When he was old enough to learn the limits of his invisible fence, I had the trainer come out to help me. It was a waste of time. Hobbes had absolutely no desire to leave our yard. The trainer laughed and laughed when nothing she tried even remotely tempted him to get anywhere near the perimeter. He had never experienced a correction from the collar before, so that wasn’t the reason. He just wanted to be near me and our house and that’s how he felt until the very end.
Hobbes was a really cute name, but as we came to know him, we realized he was actually more like the muppet Grover: cute, lovable, and a bit ridiculous. He loved toys with all of his heart. We’re not sure how old he was when we first realized that Hobbes knew what Christmas meant. I always put a brand new stuffed hedgehog or chipmunk in his Teddy Bear Christmas Stocking. We were shocked when we realized that even though a whole year had passed, he knew exactly what to expect when he saw the Christmas stockings hung on the mantle. From that point on, we had to wait to put the stockings up until right before we opened presents on Christmas morning because once he saw them, he immediately started crying and begging like a little kid. Even in the last weeks of his life, he still wanted me to hand him each of his chipmunks every morning so that he could squeak them and hide them carefully in his bed.
Even though Hobbes never had a single bad experience with a man, he didn’t really like them much, but he loved my husband and the extra gentle, mostly pretend rough house game that he played with Hobbes. We have videos of Hobbes waiting in excited anticipation for my husband to “get him” as he lay with his tummy completely exposed in his bed. To express his glee, Hobbes would talk in a voice that sounded very much like Chewbacca.
I’ve had a hard time putting into words how I felt about Hobbes until my Dad got me Tommy Tomlinson’s book “Dogland” for my birthday. In the book, Tomlinson describes that one special dog of a lifetime that you connect with in a way so deep that there’s a word for it: your heart dog. Hobbes was my heart dog, and I was his heart person. When he was younger, we joked about how much he loved me. He was Golllum, and I was his “precious.”
Comparing him to Gollum makes him sound sinister and dark, and he did have a jealous side. He would let out a low growl when I hugged my adult son, but there was never any bite to his bark. In fact, our vet’s very serious demeanor had a tendency to melt when she treated him. The groomer thought that he was a joy. The only problem that she had was that he was too relaxed and wanted to lay down for his haircut. From the moment that we first got him, I always thought of him as a beloved Teddy Bear come to life. He didn’t even smell like a dog. He had a gentle baby powder scent.
My adult daughter got a puppy when Hobbes was 11, and when she visited, Luna both renewed his interest in life and made him grouchy. At first I worried when I heard his surprisingly Cujo-like growls directed her way and worked hard to maintain the peace. Eventually, I realized that they both loved the chase game that they had invented. Hobbes, staying comfortably in one spot, would growl ferociously, and Luna would zoom around the couch in mock fear of him. After she completed a lap, she would prance and wag and literally beg him to “do it again Hobbes!”
Hobbes was such a springy, happy, stretchy dog that it was hard for us to even imagine him getting older. One of his nicknames was Jellodog because when he didn’t want to move he could transform his small 22 pound body into an gelatinous blob that was nearly impossible to lift. Even as he began to have health problems, it was hard to avoid denial. I thought that he would live forever.
For a long time, we were able to manage his failing liver and malfunctioning gallbladder in such a way that he was comfortable, but toward the end it was becoming clear that his bad times were outweighing the good. The thought that a creature so sweet and gentle might suffer was overwhelming. As he declined, he made it clear that the one thing that he wanted was for me to be near him. Truth be told, that was all that I wanted too.
Hobbes loved when I crocheted and sat in my spot on the couch with him in his bed at my feet, and so that’s what I did. In our last month together, I designed the Beloved Black Dog Blanket pattern for him. It made me feel like I could maintain our connection.
In the end, I made sure that he didn’t suffer. In our last moments alone together, he gently rested his head against my chest, something that he had never done before. I told him that I loved him and that I hoped that I would see him on the other side. The unconditional love of such a trusting and gentle creature filled a little hole in my heart, and I hope that I did as well as his person as he did as my dog.
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