Trixie says Merry Christmas to the WWTs

With the big day coming near, I wanted to send my thanks to Mary Ann Franzke for my fabulous Christmas sweater. It's a perfect fit. How did she know my size?

I send her my Merry Christmas wishes, as well as to other members of the Wednesday Walkie Talkies: Ann McMullan, Pat Semmes, Carol McMorris, Lyn Belisle, Martha Siv, Mary Lil Chappell, Susan Gragg and, of course, my mistress, Mary Fisher. I've missed them this month, but look forward to when the ladies reconvene after the first of the year. See you then!

Trenchmanship saves the day

A week ago Saturday we went to our country place, which the family has just named "Los Piquines" in honor of the many native pepper bushes that grow there. We traveled not to pick peppers, but to meet with the men who will be building a fireplace for the ranch house.

Since we want to use native river rock for the hearth and mantel, my master and the mason drove to Williams Creek to scout stones. Mary and Maverick walked down with me and my big dog buddies, Townes and Chigurh. We especially looked forward to visiting a large fish that lives in a long trench on one side of the creek.

The trip to the creek was uneventful. Us dogs splashed about while the humans looked at rocks. Satisfied with what they found, Lewis and the mason got in their vehicles. But much to my horror, Lewis, who doesn't know the creek as well as we do, drove straight into the trench that is home to the big fish of Williams Creek! Though he desperately sought traction, it was too late: the right side of his car had sunk in.

With dark approaching, I had a dreadful vision of no dinner while we waited for AAA to arrive. But we had failed to take into account the resourcefulness of our mason and the kindliness of a neighbor who Mary flagged down. The neighbor had nylon cords, which the mason attached to his pickup and to the stuck car. After much spinning of tires, the neighbor suggested that if he and Maverick jumped into the truck bed, the pickup might get some traction. To my astonishment, it worked, and the car emerged from the ditch unscathed.

Throughout our ordeal, the big fish sat tight, unperturbed. (I must say he's a cool customer. But I guess when you live as long as he has you’ve seen it all.) Back at the house as I crunched on luscious leftover lamb bones from Mac and Ernie's, a nearby gourmet eatery, I dreamed of lying in front of a nice wood fire, happy as a fish in a trench.

(A special thank-you to Maverick for transcribing my thoughts this week—Trixie.)

Colombian and Panama...without me

Well they’ve done it again. Mary and Lewis have gone on another of their trips, leaving me to languish in a cramped cage at the vet’s. When she finally came to pick me up, one of the workers told her that I cried whenever they left. Of course I cried. What lonely girlie dog wouldn’t? But thank goodness I’m home again, moving from bed to bed as I listen to my master and mistress talk about their trip.

Feeling uncertain about the safety of Mexico, my masters chose of all places Colombia. From what I’ve heard since they got back, the choice was pretty sound, since Colombia has pretty much put its narcotraffic days behind it. A high point, maybe THE high point in Bogota according to them is the magnificent Gold Museum. (Anyone who thinks the Spanish got all the New World’s gold would be way wrong).

Another highlight is in the small town of Zipaquira outside Bogota, home of the so-called Salt Cathedral, where large crosses have been carved in the walls of a historic salt mine to represent the Stations of the Cross. Deep in the salt-walled -ceilinged and -floored mine is a cavernous “cathedral” with a towering cross.

After touring the mine and taking a turn at playing salt miner, my masters ascended and had lunch at a little outdoor café playfully called La Catedral de la Gallina (the cathedral of the chicken). Soup of the day every day there is sancocho de gallina, a thickish chicken broth with chicken, corn, plantain and yucca--a root vegetable.

Another native dish my masters enjoyed in Colombia was arepa, a thick corn-based patty that can be filled with cheese or meat. They also met a couple of new fruits including grenadilla, a round persimmon colored fruit with yukky looking gelatinous seeds inside that resemble frogs eggs. Though it looks disgusting, they said the seed stuff was not bad (though not good enough to suggest to the exotic fruit vendor at our gourmet grocery store).

After flying to the coastal town of Cartagena, where they stayed in the colorful old walled city, my masters flew to Panama City. There, they were bowled over by the canal. On a boat tour of Gatun Lake, which is part of the waterway that crosses the isthmus, they saw not only huge ocean going vessels but, along the banks, alligators, monkeys and sloths, which the Panamanians call osos perezosos (lazy bears).

My masters spoke of the large number of perros callejeros (street dogs) in both countries, as well as dogs on leashes, primarily poodles and labs. They didn’t see any Chihuahuas but they saw a number huge mastiff type dogs with muzzles, used by the Colombian police. My guess is those big guys worked shoulder to shoulder with the police to help win the drug war there.