Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Brackenridge Park's the Place
On Monday the Walkie Talkies did Brackenridge Park again. Four ladies and two dogs struck out for what my mistress calls the “frog bridge.” What could have been a boring concrete span over a drainage ditch is instead an eye catcher, thanks to a series of ceramic plaques. Created by artist Diana Kersey, they depict the life cycle of frogs, starting with courtship. Chica and I liked that one set of plaques is for people above and another is for the frogs below.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Bad Habits
Though there have been no more hawk sightings in our yard, Mary continues to dress us dogs in sundresses as a deterrent. Jimmie McMullan, a vet with a wicked sense of humor, has written in: "I hope the dresses aren't the sexy, skimpy types. I think they should wear habits. Even Chickenhawks will be afraid of accosting God's bitches."
Monday, September 12, 2011
Walking on the Wild Side
Now that fall is (barely) in the air, my mistress’ walking group has started up again. Because several members had Wednesday conflicts, they have moved the day to Monday. Four ladies trekked through Brackenridge Park today, logging 1.83 miles and working off 125 calories in an hour’s time. The stats are thanks to Mary Lil Chappell, who whose odometer clocked our steps through the Sunken Garden and back to the zoo via the skyline walk above the Gardens.
I must say it was a far more civilized walk than one my doggie friends Chigurh and Sir Walter took at our country place last weekend. In fact, had Chica and I joined them and their master, Maverick, on that walk I probably wouldn’t be writing this entry.
It seems that a coyote followed them early one morning along the rocky Hondo Creek bed. Maverick, who is Mary’s younger son, said it stayed about 10 feet behind them all the way, barking in a high-pitched voice. Fortunately, Chigurh and Sir Walter-- Maverick’s newly adopted rescue lab--are large enough that the coyote never ventured closer. But, desperate as it was due to the drought, I have no doubt it would have nabbed one or both of us little dogs straightaway.
In the course of the walk, Maverick found the skeleton of what might be a ring tailed cat and Sir Walter found a canine skull of some sort. Both animals probably starved, which may be the fate of the barking coyote.
Perhaps it was the scent of coyotes that put me on edge, but for some reason I became really snappy that night. And when Mary reached for me to take off my harness at bedtime I lunged at her, giving her a black eye. She was so concerned about my behavior that she called the vet when they got back to town. Dr. Kothmann suggested it could be that my night vision is not good, that the sudden movement from above alarmed me, or, perhaps it was a form of PTSD, stemming from the time when I was mauled by a neighborhood stray.
Who knows why dogs do things? People go to shrinks to find out why they do the things they do and still don’t always know why. So I’m not going to try to guess what happened to me that night. Mary is more careful with me now and I’m hoping never to go Cujo again. If I do, I fear she might take me for a walk with the coyotes in the country.
I must say it was a far more civilized walk than one my doggie friends Chigurh and Sir Walter took at our country place last weekend. In fact, had Chica and I joined them and their master, Maverick, on that walk I probably wouldn’t be writing this entry.
It seems that a coyote followed them early one morning along the rocky Hondo Creek bed. Maverick, who is Mary’s younger son, said it stayed about 10 feet behind them all the way, barking in a high-pitched voice. Fortunately, Chigurh and Sir Walter-- Maverick’s newly adopted rescue lab--are large enough that the coyote never ventured closer. But, desperate as it was due to the drought, I have no doubt it would have nabbed one or both of us little dogs straightaway.
In the course of the walk, Maverick found the skeleton of what might be a ring tailed cat and Sir Walter found a canine skull of some sort. Both animals probably starved, which may be the fate of the barking coyote.
Perhaps it was the scent of coyotes that put me on edge, but for some reason I became really snappy that night. And when Mary reached for me to take off my harness at bedtime I lunged at her, giving her a black eye. She was so concerned about my behavior that she called the vet when they got back to town. Dr. Kothmann suggested it could be that my night vision is not good, that the sudden movement from above alarmed me, or, perhaps it was a form of PTSD, stemming from the time when I was mauled by a neighborhood stray.
Who knows why dogs do things? People go to shrinks to find out why they do the things they do and still don’t always know why. So I’m not going to try to guess what happened to me that night. Mary is more careful with me now and I’m hoping never to go Cujo again. If I do, I fear she might take me for a walk with the coyotes in the country.
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