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  • Writer's pictureLuke Robinson

Hudson's Story. Part One

Hudson Robinson August 4 2006 – September 4 2021


Hudson’s death was so shockingly sudden and unexpected my immediate and instinctive response was to wall up ten feet thick like and packed full of titanium metal. The problem, or one of them anyway, is when you choke off sensation for too long, feeling fades off into forever and lost too quickly and that’s something I cannot permit with Hudson.

But I still hurt pretty damn bad and if I don’t pull back quickly enough, the sadness can become crippling - a place I've been lost before. And a darkness I can't permit myelf to return to again. But I can’t lose his love either, not even a little. So, my solution is to write to about Hudson the extent I can tolerate, in hopefully purposeful vignettes and save the rest for later as there will be many from his 15 long, rich and adventurous years.

But it’s also a story about myself and the journey I’ve been on since losing my first Great Pyrenees, Malcolm, to cancer. Before then actually but for now it's relevant in that Hudson’s name is an homage to the woman who blessed my life with Malcolm some time ago.




Lindsey moved up to New York City from Texas where we met and Hudson was named for the stunning River that meanders down from the Adirondacks, grows, then cuts a great watercourse down through the splendid valley, before splitting New Jersey from the west side of the city and ultimately nourishing the Atlantic Ocean with its life.

Some 15 years after I named him, and recently up there filming and reflecting, I cannot imagine a more perfect name for Hudson now. And just like the raging River it grows into, here come the tears again.

I knew I’d love Hudson from the moment I rescued him from Waco, TX and he was the size of a peaunt but giant and undaunted in spirit. Murphy, Malcolm’s brother and Fuzzybutt #2, was totally uncertain what to make of his new lil bro because of his wee size but as the photo nearby depicts, they became mates almost immediately.

The pic was taken Thanksgiving 2004 at South Padre Isle, TX, where Hudson was introduced to sand for the first time and as you can see in this video playing in and eating it like a kid!


And just like one, a few days later, he was puking and pooping everywhere. Apparently he got Girardia, a particularly nasty GI bug that produces fulminating shits, and well the first few weeks of life with Hudsy were special. The great starts always are. Even through it all, he was imminently happy in his new home and my father almost immediately gave him his Nom de Amore 'Lick and Wiggles'...

.... No matter how hard it is, never let your beloved memories be lost like tears in rain...

I think this is enough for now. All warm and loving memories this time. And as we prepare for Walk 3 and work on this groundbreaking docuseries we’re producing over the next year, I’ll always be coming back to Hudson. As the River is the thing in this last and third chapter in our story.

Puppy Up and Talk Soon


Indiana Grayson and Luke


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Postscript: The holidays are hard for those who have recently lost companions and I've been reading of so many losses on social media. Suffering is the topic of one of my next blogs as it is in so many ways fundamental to this story and particularly relevant very soon. Try not to suffer alone and know that love is all around you even when reaching out for it seems damnably impossible.

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