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.