‘Hey, Babe!’
Jane Hobson was my favorite person.
Like many of us, I was cheerfully greeted by Jane with a “Hey, Babe!” every time I saw her. The sight of her signature sunhat under the ring tent always elicited a warm, welcoming feeling.
Jane was one of those rare people you could talk to about anything — from celebrating wins (“Great job, Babe!”) to agonizing over defeats (“What was thaaat, Babe?!”), to free training tips (“Show him the food, Babe!”), to commiserating about everyday life (“Oh, the husband, Babe …”) — and everything in between. And somewhere along the line, “Babe” somehow became synonymous with “Jane.” We were all “Babes” in Jane’s eyes.
Jane could often be found riding around showgrounds on her Trex bike (complete with plastic bag over the seat), sporting her sunhat, lollipop and long, colorful skirt – all while a Working dog trotted effortlessly by her side. I was never quite sure how she was able to pull this off. I’m certain I’d have been pulled by the dog, sent flying over the handlebars onto my rear end, skirt over my head with a sticky lollipop twisting my hair in a knot. Not Jane, though! She zoomed in and out of set-ups and ring tents like GI Jane, beaming that contagious smile of hers and greeting countless “Babes” in the process.
For many years, Tuesday and Thursday evenings in New Jersey became analogous with Jane’s training class. Like many of us, my sister and I brought countless pups to her class over the last 20-ish years. I’d like to think these classes were for the benefit of our pups, but who am I kidding? Jane always had tricks up her sleeve, even when we thought there were none left to try.
As anyone who attended these classes can tell you, your mere presence meant you’d have Jane’s unwavering support and friendship for life, not to mention the most boisterous cheerleader and support crew for groups! It didn’t matter if you were an old pro or a complete novice, Jane’s “WHOOOO!!!!! WHOOOO!!!!” echoed throughout the show grounds to cheer you on. Jane was your girl, Babe … but you’d better be sure to return the cheer favor, or you’d get a side eye from under the brim of that sunhat, Babe.
It will come as no surprise to learn that Jane had an incredible way with dogs. All dogs seemed to love Jane, and Jane seemed to love all dogs. Jane handled several of our Bernese over the years, presenting them beautifully and achieving big wins in the process. Jane could show any dog to effortless perfection with a blatant disregard for herself in the process. This was exemplified the time Jane’s long, colorful wrap-around skirt got caught on a ring fence; Jane Baby just kept right on truckin’ around the ring in her matching sunhat and what was left of her skirt — only the slip — perfectly in stride with her dog. She brought out the very best in every dog she showed, no matter what.
Our dear friend Andrew Green put it best when he noted that Jane could show any dog, whether a lion or a lamb. I gained a great appreciation for the lion end of the spectrum when Jane once asked me to cover a Bullmastiff puppy in the 9-12 class. “You’ll be fine, Babe,” she said. “Just show him the food, Babe,” she said. Okie dokie. If you say so, Babe …
I made it through the class relatively unscathed. “That was GREAT, Babe! He isn’t trained at all, Babe!” Somehow the gravity of her untrained comment sailed completely over my head as I walked in for Winners. Two steps into the go-around and this so-called “puppy,” who had every bit of 20 to 30 pounds on me, took off like a bat out of hell, galloping around the ring with reckless abandon. I just hung onto the lead and embarrassingly laughed my a*s off.
Needless to say, said “puppy” didn’t win the points. Surprise, surprise. The cool thing about Jane, though, was she was somehow able to pull positives out of the circus act I had just performed on her behalf … AND she somehow still believed in me, even after that complete and utter disaster. The whole experience gave me an even greater appreciation for the lion tamer that she was.
Not more than a month after my oh-so-stellar circus performance, we were at a show where Jane won two groups. She asked if I would show her beloved Merlin, a Bullmastiff owned by Mary Hellmers, in Best in Show. I came right out and addressed the elephant in the room. “Are you sure?! After what happened THE LAST TIME I showed a Bullmastiff for you?!”
She simply handed me a huge block of cheese and Merlin’s lead, and said, “You’ll be fine, Babe. You got this, Babe!”
If you say so, Babe, I thought to myself.
Merlin showed his heart out for that huge block of cheese, and he won that Best in Show. Merlin’s first, and mine as well. To say that Jane was ELATED would be the biggest understatement of the year. Her exuberance was palpable, her smile and energy radiating through the show grounds. It is a moment that will forever be engrained in my mind — not because of the win (although that was special, too!), but because of Jane; she had so much faith in me that day, even when I didn’t have it in myself.
Photography was another of Jane’s many talents. Many of her stunning photos made for beautiful ads of my dogs over the years. She was brilliant when it came to capturing natural lighting and backgrounds, as well as the true essence of the subject. She was particularly gifted when it came to action shots, consistently catching an airborne Rottweiler with slobber flying from its mouth and every muscle rip glistening in the sun. Her signature wild racoon call — which I couldn’t even attempt to duplicate — is behind the scenes of many intensely expressive photographs seen in magazines. When you heard the racoon call at a show, you knew Jane Baby was around.
Along with a natural tail, Jane believed a stable temperament was one of the most important facets of her Von Hobson Rottweiler breeding program. She enjoyed a range of activities with her dogs, from conformation all the way to Schutzhund. I do not profess to know anything about Schutzhund; all I know is that Jane was enamored by it. She once excitedly introduced me to a gentleman with a German Shepherd, saying she knew him from Schutzhund training. The two hadn’t seen each other in years, and yet they seemed to pick up right where they had left off. I walked away thinking what the heck is Schutz …. errr … Shoot.
As I later discovered, Schutzhund involves a combination of tracking, obedience and protection. Jane just loved it, and was one of very few people in the U.S. to show her Rottweilers in conformation and also train them to multiple Schutzhund titles. Not surprisingly, it was Jane’s involvement in Schutzhund that garnered her the nickname “GI Jane.”
Above all else, Jane was just Jane — a vibrant, steadfast, indiscriminate straight shooter who could get away with saying things the rest of us could only dream of. Jane ardently loved her dogs and her people. I feel so very honored to have called her my friend. We were her family; she was ours.
Jane and her husband Russ.
Jane left us entirely too soon, but she wouldn’t want anyone making a fuss. If she knew how we were gushing over her right now, I’m certain she would sheepishly quip, “YOUUU GUUUUUUYSSSSSS,” with her head tilted to the side, hand on hip, and eyes welling up under her sunhat.
I know that Heaven gained a beautiful new Angel last week, and I’m certain that all the Angels who greeted her have a new nickname – “BABE.”
Thank you for being you, Babe.
My sincere appreciation to Amy Green and Eugene Zaphiris for the opportunity to commemorate our dear friend. It has been my great honor to do so.