The Brackenridge Belles didn’t walk in the park the Monday of Thanksgiving week. Which is A.O.K., given that Chica and I had the walk of our lives that Friday.
We spent the holiday in the country with our master and mistress and their two sons. William and his wife, Mariana, have two small children; Maverick has two big dogs. All of us savored the organic, never-frozen bird that Maverick bought, brined and baked for family and friends. Among them was one of the Belles, Pat Semmes, whose husband was in Europe. I really liked her dog, J. D., but for some reason Chica took an instant dislike to him and drove us crazy barking.
The next morning we drove up to Utopia, about half an hour from Tarpley, to see the maples in full color at Lost Maples State Natural Area. The nice thing is that us dogs are welcome there, as long as we are on leashes. And believe me that is a comfort when a matched pair of Dobermans like the ones we saw comes your way.
At first, we strolled along the short path in the canyon where most of the maples stand. Then, Maverick, his dogs, and Lewis and Mary decided to take what they believed to be a slightly longer loop. Six miles later, we staggered back down from the top of the mountain in a rising wind. Amazingly none of us slipped on the treacherous trail. But make no mistake: we were pooped.
In fact, we were barely in better shape than the dead fox Mary picked up by the side of the road to show everyone. Unfortunately she learned from a taxidermist that since it’s not winter coat time, the hide isn’t worth tanning. It was a beautiful animal nonetheless, roughly my size and coloration but with a far fuzzier tail.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment