Entertaining the Grandchildren

Since the WWTs won’t be walking together until January, I thought I’d keep you posted on my doings anyway. At least until my masters leave for--are you ready?--Ethiopia.

Much of my time has been spent entertaining my masters' grandchildren. Their father is definitely not a dog person, though at least he no longer totally ignores me and says I smell of dog (as if I’m supposed to smell of say, cat ). To their credit, the little ones adore me. Christina, who is now four, takes me on walks with her “Nana.” And Maxwell, one and a half, chases after me and calls me “tee-kee.” He’s very cute but I try to avoid him since he doesn’t know yet how to behave around a dog, especially one who's a princess. (Whenever I lick his face he makes a commotion, which is sooo wrong, given that a kiss from royalty like me is SUCH an honor honor.)

Last Saturday night, Christina spent the night at our house. Her only request was that I not sleep with her (which I wouldn’t do anyway since I have a regular spot under the covers of my mistress’ bed). Yesterday, she took me over to help entertain grandson Maxwell--who was sick with asthma-like symptoms --while his mother, Mariana, was at work. Now Mexican medical folklore says that Chihuahuas help asthma sufferers, but Maxwell’s mother, who is a family practice doctor, seemed unimpressed when told that by her mother-in-law. All I can say is Mary didn’t have to administer any medicine on her shift, as Mariana had feared.

On Mondays, Mary and Lewis usually abandon me for their weekly workout at a gym. This time, Jordan, their trainer, came to our house since the gym had been flooded. I spent the entire hour watching my mistress lifting weights and doing stretches. My master was busy dealing with the landscaper, so he came in only at the end. And that brings up another story, which I will relate another day.

Thanksgiving--not my Favorite Day

The WWTs didn’t walk the day before Thanksgiving. Speaking of Thanksgiving, it wasn’t my favorite day since my masters left me locked in the house with their son Maverick’s dog, Chigurh, and his buddy, Townes, while they went to lunch at Maverick's brother's house. They didn’t even bring us leftover turkey since that wasn’t on the menu. (Instead, the hosts served Cornish game hens they had won at a tennis tournament.)

Things got better the next day, however, when they took us up to the country place in Tarpley. Now the food wasn’t any better (just the usual dry dog stuff), but the scene--and scents--definitely were. We took an extended walk up and down Hondo creek, which is filled bank to bank, and I was lucky enough to find a bone of who-knows-what wild dead thing to gnaw on.

Back home, Townes, Chigurh and I lounged on the front porch, which is now completely screened in, and barked at passing dogs. I expect that’s why the white squirrel that’s been visiting the yard most mornings has been making itself scarce. My mistress thinks it only comes in the early morning because the light hurts its albino eyes when the sun comes out. Whatever. I’m really tired of hearing her rave about it. Aren’t I enough of a wonder to hold her attention?

Mansions, Trifecta, Tarpley and Number One Dog

The weather was perfect this morning and the ladies selected the perfect place to walk: downtown along the San Antonio River in the King William neighborhood. No sooner had we gotten started than Mary ran into a friend, Maria Pfeiffer, who lives in her historic family home, which backs up to the river. She was being pulled by her lab, Bruno (who had me on edge until I determined that he is an OK fellow if a bit rambunctious).

We walked briskly so as to get back to our ’hood—about a 15 minute drive—by 9:30. Leaving the river, we passed through the garden of the Steves Homestead, a house museum operated by the San Antonio Conservation Society. It is one of countless mansions built by prosperous German families before the turn of the century.

We passed numerous other stately homes along the shaded streets. But the ladies took the most interest in a small house. To it, architect Daryl Ohlenbusch has added a rustic two-story tall screen porch (which was the inspiration for my mistress's new screened porch) on one side and a two-story techno metal-clad apartment on the other. The effect is stunning.

Throughout the hour-long jaunt I saw no other dogs. Nor did I see any chickens, although a number of King Williamites raise them. (One of them, Mike Casey, even has a turkey). Which reminds me: Mary got an email from son Maverick this week that there was a trifecta. When he checked the rolling coop the other morning, all three ladies had laid him an egg in the same nest!

Returning to the subject of walks, the one I enjoyed most this week was near Tarpley, Texas where Mary and Lewis have a country place. The scents there are not to be believed and the weather was perfect—clear and cool. Thankfully, Hondo Creek is running again and the sinkhole (used as a Saturday night bathtub by a neighbor in years past) is full again. When the water’s up in Texas, there's no room for complaints.

Breaking News! Mary just got a letter from her cousin Amelia, owner of Sadie, the nations's number one dog. (Her full name is Round Town Mercedes of Mary Scot—can you imagine?). Sadie just finished winning best in show in Philadelphia, taking the total up to 102. She can be seen on NBC winning that show on Thanksgiving Day at noon, right after the parade. All I can say is I knew (of) her when.

Bitches and the Bridge

Since two Wednesday Walkie Talkies had to be done early yesterday, the ladies moved briskly, starting at the University of the Incarnate Word's sky bridge. The aerial walkway connects two parts of the campus high above Highway 281 as it heads downtown. We looked way down to six lanes of traffic and way up to a cloudless autumn sky.

Our objective was the storied Blue Hole on the main campus, said to be the headwaters of the San Antonio River. As we neared it we passed a stone grotto and the historic home of early day entrepreneur George Brackenridge, who sold what is now the college campus to the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word.

It turned out that the Blue Hole was not what the ladies had in mind. Due to the prolonged drought, it is all but dry despite recent rains. Worse, it is littered with trash. So we left quickly and made our way back up to the sky bridge.

When my mistress paused to take photos (which makes me crazy), other ladies took turns taking my leash. Sometimes Mary gets so carried away talking that she forgets to take the leash back, leaving me at the mercy of another WWT. But hey, I’m just happy to be one of the girls.

Which brings me to a girlie question that’s been bothering me for a while now. Why is the word for a female dog perjorative when applied to women? Dog trainers are quite comfortable calling us female dogs "bitches" but most folks shy away from the word unless trying to cause insult. This "bitch" wants to know why.

Hanging with the Big Boys

I didn’t get to walk with the WWTs yesterday because Mary had to baby-sit her granddaughter, Christina, who had fever. So instead of the tantalizing smell of dog messages on fire hydrants, I had to put up with the stench of nail polish, when Mary painted Christina’s toenails (green) for the first time. Fortunately, they did take me on a short walk down the street after lunch, when Christina felt better.

I can’t complain too much though, since I got to go to Austin over the weekend. While Mary and Lewis spent time manning their Maverick Publishing booth at the Texas Book Festival, I got to hang out back at their son Maverick’s house with Chigurh, his dog.

Now Chigurh is ten times my weight, but unlike his assassin namesake in “No Country for Old Men,” he is the essence of kindness. His friend, Townes, a weekend guest, is a little scarier as he growls from time to time, but I felt pretty comfortable hanging around with the big boys—even if they did hover over me when I ate.

Now that Mary’s grandchickens are more comfortable, they want to come out of their pen and forage for bugs. Whenever Maverick let them out, he made us dogs stay indoors, which was a drag. But I must admit we did relish the leftover scrambled eggs after breakfast.

A Matter of Class

When my mistress uncovered me in our nice warm bed at the crack of dawn today, I was not a happy canine camper. In fact, as soon as she carried me to the kitchen and put on my halter I tried to run back to bed. Being fifteen times my size, she naturally prevailed and soon we were on our way to another Wednesday Walkie Talkie adventure.

This time there were only three walkers, who decided to “do” the Mahncke Park neighborhood, a five-minute drive away. Starting from the San Antonio Botanical Garden parking lot, we moved up and down streets of charming bungalows, many with snappy, sustainable landscapes.

One especially quirky house had a Moroccan style open-air gazebo on the flat roof, furnished for entertaining. Called La Mirage, it is owned by a flamboyant hair stylist named Karlos. Another house had a skinny Dr. Seuss-like two-story screen porch perched in front. Then there was the run-down place with a sign on the front door announcing “Beware of dog.” All we saw there was a bunch of cats lounging around the entrance, which is fine by me as I’ve never cared for guard dogs. (As far as I’m concerned, it’s a matter of class--they all lack good manners.)

One more thing: word comes from Austin that another of Maverick’s chickens is about to start laying. His champion layer produces almost every day. Now a second of his red hens is starting to crouch, which is a sign they she is about to lay. I can’t wait to see them when we go to Austin for the Texas Book Festival. This time I’ll have the class to leave them be.

In Rain or Shine

It was threatening rain on Wednesday so the Wednesday Walkie Talkies almost didn’t walk. (In fact, later in the day it did rain cats and well, dogs.) Umbrellas in hand, Five WWTs and I struck out from Olmos Park in a westerly direction, passing through a couple of gentrifying neighborhoods.

My mistress was elated with the number of chain link fences with dog statues on top. (She collects those, though unfortunately the chain link manufacturers never had the sense to make a statue of a Chihuahua.) My favorite thing was a yard filled with skeletons emerging from the ground. Mary is crazy for Halloween decorations and went gaga over that one. If those had been real bones I’d have been set for life.

When the ladies got back to Carol’s house--where they always begin their adventures--she gave Mary a rural mailbox. The architect for Mary’s screen porch had suggested using one out front and lo! Carol (who has a keen eye for the retro) produced one that had belonged to an uncle in Nebraska.

As construction continues on the porch (Will it EVER end?) I am compelled to bark at a succession of workmen. Earlier it was carpenters and painters. Now it’s electricians. On that subject, Mary and Lewis met this week with an architect, Graham Martin, who has started a full time business designing decorative light fixtures. They selected a copper sconce with a cut-out design that resembles tile patterns they saw on mosques in Iran last year. Yes, Iran.

And guess where I was while they were admiring the Shah Mosque in Isfahan? The vet’s of course. Well, they do say it’s a dog’s life.

Sadie, my Amazing Canine Cousin

I usually only scribble on the day the Wednesday Walkie Talkies do their thing. But some breaking doggie news has just arrived from Mary’s first cousin, owner of Champion Roundtown Mercedes of Maryscot.

Now that’s an awfully long name for a rather small dog. But this isn’t just ANY dog. Sadie, as she is also known, just swept the prestigious Montgomery County Kennel Club show in Maryland. “It’s the one you want to win,” notes her mistress, Amelia. “People come from all over the world. It’s the big one for terriers.”

The four-year-old Scottie is not only the nation’s number one terrier. With more than 80,000 points accumulated at competitions around the U.S., she is also the number one dog in the country. Sadly, I didn’t get to meet her when she competed (and won) in San Antonio this summer. But my mistress Mary raved on and on about her after seeing her here. (OK I’m a mutt but tell my why I couldn’t have gone to the show, too? After all I AM a princess).

I had to hear all about her glossy coat (so what?--they brush it all the time), her amazing eyebrows (enhanced with Mexican moustache wax—big deal), her poise (as a princess I’m all about regal bearing too). Really it was too much. But I have to admit, this is pretty amazing. So I think I’m just going to claim this canine cousin and hope she takes the Garden (as in Madison Square). Last year she competed there in the Westminster dog show, where she was in the finals as top terrier. This year she could ace it. Viva Sadie!!!

Forgotten but Forgiving

Well it had to happen. Remember when I told you my mistress almost forgot to take me one week? Well this time she REALLY forgot. My master, Lewis, noticed that I was especially agitated about Mary’s departure. Well duh. Don’t humans understand that dogs know everything they know and then some?

Anyway while I whiled the time away in my nice soft bed, Mary traipsed around with two WWT buddies in the sticky humidity, discussing things ranging from how to recolor an oriental rug on the cheap (use ripe prickly pear cactus fruit called tunas) to whom they knew in the obituaries today.

Though I don’t regret the conversation, I’m sorry not to have seen the latest seasonal decoration at Bumper’s house. That’s the doggie I memorialized awhile back whose mistress dresses up a pair of dog statues in front of the house from time to time. For Halloween they are duded up as an alien and a witch. Scaaa-ry.

As they walked through Olmos Park Terrace, a neighborhood literally across the railroad tracks from Olmos Park, the ladies took note of the number of sustainable landscapes. My mistress--who is planning a low-water-tolerant yard once the porch is finished. (Will it ever be?)--gleaned several ideas.

When she got back Mary immediately took me on a walk. She also gave me part of a hot dog she’d bought at Costco as a peace offering. Since hot dogs are my thing I immediately forgave her. BUT SHE HAD BETTER NOT FORGET ME EVER AGAIN. Dog’s honor.

Porch-to-be

This week the ladies took a bye for a variety of reasons, one of which was that my mistress had a sore throat. It was just as well since with rain predicted, the atmosphere was quite close. So instead of nattering about where the WWTs went and what they said, today I’ll talk about matters closer to home.

For the last couple of months, Mary and Lewis’ (and my) house has been quite chaotic due to construction. Imagine this: they have decided to go retro with a screened-in front porch. But this is not your grandmother’s screen porch. It is high up from the ground and has a pitched roof that makes our little house look--as the architect puts it in a soaring superlative--“heroic.” Another of architect John Grable’s favorite ways of describing the addition is “transformative.” (Do they offer courses in architect speak?).

The porch is constructed with huge cedar beams and features a cement floor and bronze screen wire. I love to sit on it and watch my doggy friends pass by on the street. Since the front door and front steps haven’t been completed, I can jump down to the ground—a risky endeavor that I’ve only tried twice. ( The last thing a princess needs is a broken leg.)

As soon as it’s finished Mary intends to have the Wednesday Walkie Talkies and their spouses over for a covered dish dinner. My question is, will she invite J.D. and Cooper and Maddie and Bella and Max? I'd love to show off my porch to those WWT doggies.

Queen for a Day (Almost)

Another week, another walk. Today four WWTs and I hoofed it to the Trinity University campus. Just as we got back to our starting point in Olmos Park, we spied Martha, who had run late. So as not to disappoint her (and I suspect because they wanted to keep on talking) Mary and Ann walked with Martha to a nearby bakery.

Now the Bistro Bakery as it is called is some kind of place. They have mouth watering French- style treats, but what takes them over the top is that they welcome dogs to their outdoor tables. The owner, Lucile Watel, even came out to greet me. Of course as a princess I’ve come to expect such courtesies but in today’s world one doesn’t always receive her due.

Yesterday, I received another courtesy befitting my status. Mary and her friend, Karen Condit, have a harmonica class on Tuesday nights. Karen-- an artist--brought to class a pastel of my profile. I have to admit it is a beautiful rendering, one that does full justice to my remarkably well shaped snout. Mary plans to hang it near a line drawing Karen did of me earlier.

This afternoon I had another recognition of my princess status: I got to ride in a parade. Because she has written the centennial history of the Alamo Heights Independent School District, Mary was asked to ride in the Howdy Night Parade. And guess who got to go with her? From the window of a red Toyota Tundra with her name on the side we surveyed our “subjects.” I must admit I felt more like queen for a day than a mere princess. That is until the parade was over and we had no ride home. We hitched up our coronation gowns (just kidding) and hiked home.

One more thing: There was exciting news from Austin on Friday when Maverick emailed a photo of a pinky brown egg. At last his chickens have started laying and he’s eggs-static.

San Pedro Springs Park Birthday Bash

Yesterday the Wednesday Walkie Talkies tossed a surprise birthday party for my mistress. But I’ll get to that later.

First, they walked to the second oldest park in the country. San Pedro Park was once lush and green, due to springs. The day we went, they were dry. But near them was an intriguing fern-covered grotto built in the late 19^th century. WWT member Merribell, who directed the Columbus, Ohio Art Museum, explained to everyone that grottos used to be popular outdoor features, adding a romantic touch.

While the ladies paused to take in the grotto I sniffed around a bit. Since the grass was wet due to yesterday’s downpour, I didn’t really care that Mary didn’t release me from my leash. Princess that I am, I really don’t like traipsing in mud, even if it is the first time we’ve had anything but cracked earth in I-don’t-know-when.

Did I remember to say that it was chilly? That was another novelty today, given that the temperature’s been in the three digits for the last couple of months.

After a walk in the park the ladies headed back to Monte Vista, where Mary had arranged for them to take tea at the home of her daughter-in-law. It turned out there was a surprise when they got there. Ann and Carol, two WWTs known for their quirky decorator sense, had collaborated on a greeter in the dining room: a piñata in the shape of a buzzard with a crown that spelled out Happy Birthday. Mary was overcome.

The tea party turned more festive yet when Carol brought out a bottle of Two-Buck Chuck wine and Ann shared a Sister Schubert breakfast cake. The ladies cut loose and had a fine time hearing stories about Turkey from WWT Mary Lil, who had just returned from there.

Everything was perfect but for one little detail: I hate to sound whiny but where was MY treat?

Niagara Falls, Captivity

Last Wednesday, right after the Wednesday Walkie Talkies walk, Mary dropped me off at the vet’s so she and Lewis could attend his 50^th high school reunion in upstate New York. WITHOUT ME. So while my mistress and master went to Niagara Falls and celebrated with his classmates, I was cooped up in a cage at Dr. Kothman’s. (At least Mary thought to bring my bed and favorite blanket with pictures of princesses on it.)

During five days of confinement, I mulled over several matters. One was an article that Mary read in the New York Times just before she left, about the reason for domestication of dogs. According to some scientists, it was not for companionship, protection, work or warmth. In fact, it was for food. At least, I thought, when my master and mistress come back for me, I won’t be on the dinner menu.

Another thing I pondered while in captivity was something Mary’s former co-worker, Anita, wrote in an email after reading my last blog entry. She had the temerity to suggest that I hid the old harness because I “really just wanted some new ‘bling.’” Needless to say, I take umbrage at this baseless accusation. (Even if it wasn’t a half bad idea.)

Now on to today’s WWT adventure. There were four ladies today, including a new member, the mistress of Bumper-- the friendly dog I memorialized a couple of weeks ago. Susan is a bit younger than the other ladies and walks briskly with what looks like ski poles. We didn’t stop as much this time (which I didn’t like) and I attribute it to their keeping pace with Susan. Since she and another WWT, Ann, are in training for a walkathon I fear this is going to be the drill from now on.

The only thing of note on the walk through Olmos Park and Monte Vista today was when we came upon a fledgling golden-fronted woodpecker in the middle of the street. My mistress, Mary, picked it up and put it on a bush, where it started squawking. Thanks goodness she didn’t decide to rescue it as I really value my beauty sleep, me being a princess and all.

New harness, Hondo Creek

Today when the Wednesday Walkie Talkies did their thing I felt like the grandest tiger in the jungle. That’s because my mistress, Mary, got me a new harness.

She lost the old one over the weekend while we were at Mary and Lewis’ country place near Tarpley, Texas. I love to go there and bark at the longhorn cattle and chase jackrabbits. But I’m wary of foxes, feral hogs, coyotes and large owls.

So when Mary and Lewis walked down to see Hondo Creek--which is completely dry due to the prolonged drought--given that is was dusk, I was afraid. As is so often the case, the thing I worried about—scary night predators—did not materialize. Instead, I they lost my harness somewhere along the way.

After we got home, Mary took me to the neighborhood pet store to get a replacement. Thank goodness she spied a snazzier version, which is much more comfortable. Since red is my best color, she bought one to match my fancy red collar with silver conchos. I know they say “What price beauty,” but in this case comfort and beauty converged.

Today I sported my new halter as the WWTs walked from Olmos Park to Monte Vista, a historic neighborhood dating back to the late 19th century. We paused to take a photo of two of the WWTs in front of the house where Mary and Lewis’ older son, William, and his wife, Mariana, used to live. I remember when their daughter, Christina, was little, she used to hector me no end at that house (which is now for sale). Now it’s Christina’s younger brother, Maxwell, who’s bothering me at their new, larger home in Monte Vista.

There are a number of interesting people who live in Monte Vista, ranging from a former mayor of San Antonio to the star of “Criminal Minds." (I sit next to Mary every week when she watches that show on TV). We passed both their houses before turning back to our point of origin in Olmos Park. In all, it was a good outing. And the best news of all: it started raining right afterwards.

Checking out the Chickens

Today only three of the WWTs walked. One of them offered to take J.D., since his mistress couldn’t come. Now J.D. had a personal trainer when he was a puppy, so he knows what humans like. He stays on the left side of the street and never stops to sniff things. Although he's my friend, I was jealous when Carol—who walked him—asked, “Doesn’t he have good manners?” right in front of me. (I thought the implied comparison was REALLY rude, but let it pass.)

All three ladies had mid-morning plans so we stayed in Olmos Park. Other than noticing that even the native trees are looking stressed from the brutal heat and drought, there's nothing else worth mentioning.

Thank goodness it’s gotten a little cooler and hopefully, we’re past what is on record as the hottest, driest summer ever in San Antonio. (My mistress was really worried about my not jumping up to take walks lately. When she reported it to the vet he cited the heat, pointing out, “Trixie’s Momma didn’t raise a dumb dog.”) So true.

While this week’s walk wasn’t exciting, a trip over the weekend was. That’s when I went to Austin to see my master and mistress’ younger son, Maverick. I’d heard his parents talking about the chicken coop Maverick was having built. It’s on wheels with a detachable “run” for the birds to exercise. As the coop is moved about the yard, the chickens fertilize it.

Mary, my mistress, immediately identified the aroma produced by the chickens as “barnyard.” Since I’d never been around that particular scent, I was fascinated and sniffed all around, above and below the coop. It seemed to spook the chickens (there are three) but after a while they ventured out of the coop.

They are half Americauna, a South American breed, and half Rhode Island Red. August is the month chickens molt, so their tails are pretty sketchy, but they are a nice reddish brown color (kind of like me). According to an FFA booklet Maverick has read, they will lay green eggs. They haven't produced yet. (Chickens don't lay when molting). But I'll keep you posted when they do.

Remembering Bumper

This week Mary couldn't walk with the ladies when they explored the Trinity University campus. Naturally I'm disappointed as I've heard they have scads of squirrels there. Instead, she and my master, Lewis, went to the inauguration of a new exhibit at Mission San Juan Capistrano.

While there, Mary heard of another Olmos Park oddity. It's a house owned by Cynthia, a board member of Los Compadres, a support group for San Antonio's missions. Cynthia lives in a storybook house, based on Hansel and Gretel, and she's invited the WWTs to stop by for tea. (I wonder if she has cats. Not MY cup of tea).

I'm going to dedicate the rest of my column to a canine I never had the pleasure of sniffing. Last week, I mentioned an outgoing pug that greeted passersby as he sat in front of an Olmos Park home, sitting between two dressed-up stone statues of dogs.

He wasn't there the day we passed and sadly, my friend J.D. (for "Just Dog") explained why. He emailed (with the technical help of his mistress, who has a PhD in computer science), "the pug, named Bumper, went to doggie heaven a week or so ago. All the neighborhood pups miss seeing him in the front yard." Upon hearing the news, Ann--another WWT--wrote in to say, "so sorry about Bumper...it won't be the same walking by."

With the help of J.D's mistress, Pat, I got in touch with Bumper's mistress, Susan (who serves on the Olmos Park City Council with Pat). It's so sad when your dog dies," Susan told Mary. "Bumper was a member of our family." A second-generation pug owner, she recalled her pet as "a social animal" who loved to greet passersby from the front yard.

It became "kind of a ritual" for Bumper to run to the door in the morning, waiting to be tethered in front, she recalled. "More people seemed to know him"-- even the garbage collectors, who greeted him by name. When she ran for city council, Susan included Bumper in her campaign photo, noting "Bumper wants your vote, too." Born on New Year's Day in 1998, Bumper was eleven and a half when he died.

In doggie heaven, he's no doubt sitting between the pearly gates, greeting all who enter.

Spooky Woods of Olmos Park

Today's WWT adventure didn't start well: my mistress almost forgot to take me. I started barking as soon as I heard her pulling out of the driveway and fortunately, she came back for me. What she never forgets, thank goodness, is her can of pepper spray.

That is because a few months ago a big stray dog (well to ME almost every dog is big) attacked me in front of our house. As Mary tried to wrestle it off, it bit her and then went back to me. Fortunately my master, Lewis, heard me shrieking, rushed out and kicked the dog off. The vet said I was lucky the dog hadn't punctured my lungs, but for about a week I just lay in the back of the closet with my head to the wall. It freaked my owners out but I just couldn't deal with anyone or anything until I got my head together. Since then Mary seems more wary of unleashed dogs than I am. I've moved on and am always ready for an outing.

Am I talking too much about me? My former owner, who rescued me from the streets in Austin, just emailed my mistress that any Trixie-centric blog I wrote "would have to rely heavily on two words: 'I' and 'Me.'" He went on to say he thinks of me as "the Little Queen of everything," just because I wanted more attention than his dogs. It's a REALLY tacky thing for him to say but since he's Mary's son's boss I won't say so to his face. He SO needs to get over those Jack Russells. They are the ones with a royalty complex.

But back to this morning: once my mistress came back for me, we headed over for a walk through a wooded area on the periphery of her friends' neighborhood. Not much of anyone from that fancy little suburb goes in there, including the WWTs. But one member, Carol, led the way in. She and Mary had explored it awhile back--before I was invited into the group--and discovered a mysterious old rock ruin. If you use your imagination you can picture Indiana Jones in this jungle, since there are so many greenbrier and Virginia creeper vines all over the place.

We made our way through the spooky woods for more than a half hour, the high point for me being the sight--really the scent--of a skeletal paw with claws. The ladies discussed whether it was of a possum, raccoon or ring tailed cat but couldn't decide. Neither could I.

Finally we emerged onto the streets and walked around Olmos Park, a small incorporated city inside of San Antonio where most of the Wednesday Walkie Talkies live. Soon we encountered something as interesting to me as the paw. (There I go again with "Me.") Someone had dressed up two stone statues of pug dogs as if they were going to school. And I don't mean obedience school. They had backpacks and lunch boxes and canteens. Carol said the homeowner has an old pug that sometimes comes out and sits in front of the house in between the statues.

Well kids, that's all for today. After a baby-sitting stint with Mary's grandkids at their house--a command performance for me--I plan to sit around home like a princess. Oops, should I have said queen?

River Road Outing with the WWTs

My name's Trixie and FINALLY I've been invited to join the Wednesday Walkie Talkies. Who are they and why would I care? Let me explain. For the past several months, Mary has been sneaking out on Wednesday mornings to walk with some lady friends in their neighborhood. Then they branched out one day and walked along the new northern stretch of San Antonio's River Walk. What was SO unfair was that my friend J.D got to go on that one.

By then the ladies had selected a name for themselves, which now that I've walked with them I see is perfect, because they certainly do talk as much as they walk. Maybe more. A couple of weeks ago Mary started bringing me. And once the WWTs saw how adorable I am they wanted to be with me as much as with Mary. Which brings me to this Wednesday.

We met at the miniature train's station in Brackenridge Park at 8:00 a.m. (It's too hot here to walk much past 9:30) and meandered through the park along the river to explore the River Road neighborhood. This part of the river hasn't been "beautified" so it has wilder vegetation and better scents for a dog along its banks. Oh--did I forget to tell you I'm a dog? A part chihuahua part God-knows-what with a fox face? Anyway I checked out smells of leftover picnics and possums and such while the ladies chatted.

When we got to a low water crossing I had to walk along the edge so as not to get my feet wet. Now my friend J.D.--short for "Just Dog"--would probably have just jumped right in the river, since he's part lab. But his mistress, Pat, couldn't come this week. Me, the only water I like is in my drinking bowl. Which reminds me, Mistress Mary sometimes forgets to give me water when we're walking until I hit her on the calf with my cold, wet nose.

The River Road neighborhood is a small enclave bounded by the river, a golf course, Brackenridge Park and an expressway. It's quirky and fun with lots of shady trees and little cottages. We ended up stopping at one, because Mary knew the owner--who invited us in. The ladies were fascinated to hear how it was built in the mid 1700s with rammed earth mixed with goat's milk. While the Walkie Talkies talked I searched for the resident cat with no success.

Afterwards we walked back to our cars past the Sunken Gardens, which we went through twice last week. There are really too many ups and down in that place for a dog with short legs, but the ladies love the shallow pools populated with koi. And the flowers. Fortunately they had had enough walking already so we didn't go into it this time.

Well that's my story for now. I'll fill you in next week's adventure with the WWT's now that I'm a bona fido member.