Who's for Dinner?

There’s been a lot of water under the bridge, as the saying goes, since I last blogged.

Would you believe that Mary and Lewis left us twice last month, first to gallivant in Virginia, where he went of a book tour of his newly written Civil War book, and then in Rochester, N.Y., where he gave a talk on the history of his home town?

Both times we were confined to the dreaded cage at the vet’s. But with our tummies filled with Thanksgiving Day treats and fine leftovers the day after, all is forgiven.

We spent the big day in the country, where we not only feasted on turkey and the trimmings but had a splendid walk down to the creek in glorious sunshine.

The night before we heard the whooping of coyotes outside the window. But snuggled next to our mistress in bed we felt confident we wouldn’t be the main dish in their Thanksgiving feast. Wonder who was?

Coyote Hanging--not our Thing

Last weekend we got to go to the country again. The weather was perfect, the creeks were up and the fall wildflowers were gorgeous. Maverick came with his big dogs, Chigurh and Sir Walter, which made it just perfect. Except for one thing:

Along the fence line of the adjoining ranch, we saw a row of coyotes strung up by their heels. Back in the day people used to do that with “varmints.” But Chica and I had never seen such an abomination until recently when a rancher did the hanging thing several miles down the road.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have no doubt that a coyote would see me and Chica as a comestible, not a cousin. Yet truth be told we’re pretty close kin. I must say it’s really creepy to see a fellow canine hung upside down rotting on a fence. The irony is that studies show that females have larger litters when such exterminations occur. So not only is the practice cruel, it’s futile.

On a happier note, six ladies—two of them new to the group—walked in Brackenridge Park today. The weather was perfect and there was nary a carcass to be seen.

Living the Sweet Life

The ladies skipped the Monday walk since it was Columbus Day. Which, given that it turned mighty cold in Sunday, was probably just as well.

On Saturday, the weather was close to perfect in the country— sunny and coolish with a soft breeze. Chica and I had a glorious walk in Hondo Creek, which had a welcome trickle of water. Mary captured a turtle at the low water crossing and let it go while we were wading.

Chica, who as far as I know had never seen one before, was fascinated and followed it all the way to the shore, where it pushed under a rock overhang.

I preferred to sniff out all the intriguing smells of the country while Lewis and Chica wandered about. Before it was time to go back to the car and home, Lewis took a photo of Mary sitting on a rock by the cliff, holding the two of us. It captured one of those serendipitous moments in time that make life so very sweet.

The Growling's got to Stop!

From the dawn of time man has debated why dogs do the things they do. Theories abound. Countless books have been written on the subject. Now I have a dog question.

You'd think I'd understood all Chica’s behavioral quirks, being a dog myself. But not so. She's much sweeter natured than I except at bedtime. That’s when she turns into a momentary monster. When I jump up on the bed with her and my mistress, Chica growls with the ferocity of a mad dog. It’s so primal that it's scary even though I'm bigger. Once I settle in she does stop, thank goodness.

Now I’m no shrink, but my first guess is that she's jealous. But if that were the case why wouldn’t she do the same thing in the daytime when I jump up beside her and my mistress on the sofa? Could it be night blindness? Maybe, but she knows it’s me by my scent. So what is it?

I’m asking the readers of this blog, both human and canine, to help me figure this one out before I lose my cool and bite her.

Steppin' out with Shaun the Sheep. Not.

On Thursday Mary took some out-of-town cousins up to the country. Without us. We were pretty fussy about not getting to run in the creek, but at least we had the grandchildren to play with in her absence. Well if you call “play” sitting with them on the couch in front of TV. Frankly we’re a bit weary of Sesame Street and Shaun the Sheep.

On Monday the ladies and Chica and I walked 8,000 steps (theirs, not ours) in Brackenridge Park on a fall-like morning. Since it's cooling off they'll start their walks later after Labor Day.

Pork Roast does the trick

Yet AGAIN Mary and Lewis have left us to languish at the vet's. This time they went to the coast. For once, Chica and I didn’t make a fuss when they left us. One reason was that we got to share a cage. But mainly, we just figured why bother.

On Monday Mary and two other Brackenridge Belles walked in the park. Us bitches didn’t get to go since the vet wasn’t open in time. Afterward, Mary and granddaughter Christina sprung us. Back home we snuffled around the house, making sure there had been no intruders.

As far as we could tell there were none, though there was a distinct scent of rat. Not being terriers, Chica and I let that pass. I've heard terriers don't eat rats, so killing them must a way to make points with their master. Well we do that simply by being so cute, right?

Our confinement was made worthwhile by what Mary did to assuage her conscience: she shared leftovers from a pork roast. I must say that did the trick, because any abandonment feelings Chica and I might have harbored evaporated with the first succulent bite.

From Cacti to the Lost Maples Cafe

Over the weekend Chica and I went to the country with our master and mistress. The idea was to clean house and mow the yard, but instead they tackled some invasive cactus in the back yard.

Recently, the grandkids had a hard time placing their tent because of it. So Mary and Lewis, shovels in hand, set to work. By the time they had dug up nine garbage bags full of the prickly stuff, their hands and feet were covered in spines. Us dogs kept our distance so we had no such problem.

The spiny ones left us at the house and took a long lunch break up the road in Utopia, where they had hamburgers and homemade pies at the Lost Maples Café. Afterwards, they hiked the Lost Maples Trail at the Lost Maples Natural Area. Due to the heat, there was not another soul on the trail, unlike last fall when the leaves turned.

Mary, who has a significant birthday this fall, has decided to celebrate that occasion with immediate family at the Lost Maples Cafe and the Natural Area. Hopefully Chica and I will be included this time, since we are about as immediate as you can get.

Back home, we accompanied our Mistress and Martha Siv on a walk in Brackenridge Park on Monday. Hard to believe that the ladies continue to brave the heat week after week. But as long as they’re game, we are.

Fall's not in the air

Rising temperatures are really getting scary. Today it was reported that street lights in Stillwater, Oklahoma melted. Corn crops on the way to our country place are fried.

Worst of all, if my mistress doesn’t get us out by 8:30 at the latest, Chica and I don’t get our walk until after 9:00 at night.

Of Modern Art and Mile-high Meringue

Sadly, Chica and I didn’t get our usual Monday morning walk in the park with the ladies this week. Once again, Mary and Lewis abandoned us at the vet’s. Just so they could sashay to Fort Worth. For an art exhibit, no less.

Granted, it was to see the work of a British artist considered to be the 20th century's preeminent portraitist. But Lucian Freud, a grandson of the great Sigmund, had a way of making everyone look unattractive, up to and including Queen Elizabeth.

For some reason, he was kinder to dogs. (This is a topic that needs to be explored, but perhaps no one but a dog would pursue it.) Thus in a creepy portrait of Freud's first wife, half nude with dark mole above her breast, an unusually white dog resting against her appears sleek and fine.

Except for copyright issues, I’d include an example of Freud’s work. Instead I’ll include a more pleasing image: a photo Mary took enroute to Fort Worth, in Marble Falls. There, at the Bluebonnet Café, mile-high melt-in-your-mouth meringue on pies attracts miles-long lines of customers melting in the outdoor heat while they wait to get at them. Wish we could've.

To sweat or not to sweat

Six Belles and us two bitches walked Brackenridge Park today, covering territory in and around the Sunken Gardens. Starting at 7:30 seems to work as it never gets to sweating weather until around 8:30--quitting time. Of course dogs can't sweat and as the saying goes, ladies (unlike horses and men) only "get all in a glow." But we would swear that we saw some perspiration on their brows. Good news is that they want to continue. Chica and I say no sweat. We'll be there.

Alternate plan (we hope)

After a bit of calling, the Brackenridge Belles decided not to walk this morning because of intermittent rain. Which is just as well with us pups. We really don't like to get our feet wet, let alone muddy. Instead we hope that Mary's grandkids come over to play today. They are lots of fun and always give us treats. Mary is pretty stingy when it comes to treats except when the kids are here. We say, bring them on.

Beatin' the heat: more than a notion

On Monday five Belles met to walk in Brackenridge park half an hour earlier than usual to avoid the heat. It went so well they decided to do it again next week. ‘twill be interesting to see how long they can stand it. Chica and I figure that by August they/we will have to meet at 5:30 a.m. to beat the heat.

Speaking of heat, Mary and son Maverick took a midmorning walk with us along a newish segment of the Salado Creek greenway on Sunday and the heat really took its toll. Both Chica and my tongues were practically dragging the ground when we finally were allowed to go off-trail to drink at the creek.

Thing is, walkers really need to get out so they are done no later than nine. For now, that is. Come August the ending time might just be 7:00 a.m.

New walk, new car

The Belles had a fine time last Monday walking in Cathedral Park, at the headwaters of the San Antonio River. The bad news is that Chica and I weren’t included, since our mistress figured dogs weren’t allowed there. No matter. We got a long walk in the 'hood that night when it was cooler.

Don’t know how much longer the ladies will keep walking, given the advancing heat (three-digit temps are predicted for next week), but they plan to go on Monday to Brackenridge Park. Chica and I look forward to it.

Good news on the car front: My master and mistress bought another Prius to replace the one that was stolen. This one, the Prius V, is a little bigger, more like a mini-station wagon. We like riding in it despite Mary’s paranoia that we will scratch the nice new leather with our toenails. She jumps on us whenever we try and climb up the back of the seats, so we’ll have to lie low until she gets over her new-car issues.

You can be sure that the next time we go to the country, my master and mistress will put the new car in the garage and if someone else has their car in it (as was the case the time of the theft) they will park it inside the fence in the back yard. Time was when Tarpey was at the end of nowhere. But now that there's enough population to warrant a cell phone tower, we dogs will have to keep our ears pricked up 24/7. Which will be a trick for Chica, given that her ears are so floppy.

New car; continuing walks

Women are prone to change their minds. The Brackenridge Belles and Bitches have done just that re: walks in the park. After agreeing to disband for summer, the ladies have continued walking week by week, agreeing that when it gets too hot they’ll stop. So far so good…

Meanwhile on the car front, my master and mistress heard from the insurance company that their car is beyond repair. So they have bought a silver Prius V, which is a bit larger. Chica and I haven’t been in it yet but we can’t wait. There’s nothing like the smell of a new car…

Dog Days of Summer Drama

With hot days on the horizon, five Brackenridge Belles met Monday for their last walk of the season. Fortuitously it was fairly cool but ever since, temperatures have approached three figures in the afternoons.

My master came to get us dogs after our walk in the park so my mistress could run up to our place in the country. Why? The story begins there Sunday morning when Mary awoke around 6:30 to what she thought was the sound of a male voice outside, followed by what sounded like a car peeling out. Turned out it was HER car.


Looks like the perp rammed it into a tree a ways down the road. After two Bandera County sheriff's deputies, a highway patrolman and a wrecker did their things, Mary and Lewis left for home in son Maverick’s car.

While Chica and I hated to miss seeing riots of wildflowers along the road to Tarpley again, we were happy to be at home in bed while Lewis organized the storeroom. With the dog days of summer upon us, sleeping is our preferred pastime.

From Tibet to Tarpley

Tibet. Tibet. Tibet. That’s all I’ve heard my master and mistress talk about for more than a week. Bad enough that they left me and Chica for another of their faraway trips but even worse is having to hear about it as nauseam after they get back. They have talked about prayer wheels, yak butter, bodhasattvas (new word for us dogs), yaks and who know what other outlandish things.

At least this time they didn’t leave us in cages at the vet for two weeks. Instead we stayed in the home of our housekeeper, Nina. Never had time to get lonesome there as four women clucked over us in Spanish day and night. Really we hated to leave the place, especially as we were about to learn the lingo.

This weekend we got a break from both Spanish and Tibet talk when we went to our country place in Tarpley for the first time in six weeks. There the conversation centered around rainfall (some but not enough) wildflowers (lots) and a couple of amazing insects around the house. First there was a gigantic walking stick. Then there was a huge green caterpillar with multicolored projections.

Thank goodness there were no scorpions this trip but my mistress did find a very large tick with a white spot in its underside on her scalp, which freaked her out. Well how did she think I felt when she found one in my ear a few days ago?

Mother Nature in all her Glory

This week Chica and I struck out again walk-wise, given that Mary and five other ladies toured the Botanical Garden instead of walking in Brackenridge Park. (Dogs only get to go to the Garden four weekends a year. Why not make it EVERY day?).

Staff member Scott Litsche took them to see the native area, where blooming plants like guajillo, white brush, huisache and sundry wildflowers such as salvias were in full bloom. The walkers were particularly taken with the bird watch, where 211 species have been spotted.

Turns out the ladies could have seen nearly as much nature in the raw in Mary’s yard this week. For starters a green chrysalis hanging on the porch rail became translucent yesterday with a rolled-up monarch butterfly clearly visible inside.

Since Mary had never seen the emergence before, she didn’t know how imminent it was. While she was indoors briefly, the butterfly exited its cramped quarters. When she and Lewis stepped outside they saw it hanging upside down next to the chrysalis husk. Since Chica and I were on the front porch, we had a front row seat during the entire drama.

Later that same day, Lewis encountered a tiny wren’s nest with six speckled eggs when he went to move a stack of boxes in the corner of the carport. He hated to move it but workmen were preparing to pour cement for a new driveway.

So he placed the nest as close as he could, on top of the adjoining fence. We all have our fingers crossed (though that is definitely a metaphorical expression for us dogs.)

Next Monday, the ladies will return to Brackenridge Park where no doubt we will witness more of Mother Nature’s wonders. In spring it seems, they never cease.

Unsung Heroine among the Belles

Monday was a perfect day for walking. So much so that the ladies kept moving for almost two and a half hours—twice the usual run. At Pam’s suggestion, they first headed to the Trinity University track. Unfortunately there was a pack of barking dogs hanging around there.

Ever since I was attacked by a stray lab, my mistress had always carried pepper spray. But would it work with five dogs? We didn’t stick around to find out. Instead, the ladies struck out for the campus and exited at the other end near the Landa Library. When they got to the library, they learned something they had not known-- both about the library and one of the Brackenridge Belles.

After Harry Landa bequeathed his handsome home and grounds to the city in memory of his wife in 1946, a plaque was put at the entrance announcing it as the “Hannah Landa Memorial Library and Children’s Playground.”

Decades later, when Pam Howard and a friend brought their young children to the Landa, there was no playground. A law student, Pam did some research and found that the will stipulated a playground. She and friends approached the city and formed a group to erect a playground. It is now the jewel of Monte Vista—a shady oasis for parents and children to swing, climb, picnic and simply enjoy the outdoors.

Best of all, dogs are welcome, too.

Stepping out in the Swamp

You win some you lose some. Yesterday Chica and I lost, when our master and mistress opted not to take us with them to Palmetto State Park, named for the dwarf palmettos that inhabit its swampy self. Perhaps it’s for the best as the place is alive with reptiles, some being of the poisonous persuasion.

Today Chica and I won, when Mary took us to Brackenridge Park for our weekly walk with the ladies. There were seven again this week and they covered a lot of territory—and subjects—over an hour and a half. Topics ranged from the Pam's daughter’s graduation on skis at Middlebury College to the number of Phd candidates at Renee's nursing school graduation at the University of Texas (a lot—this is UT, right?). There was also talk of tributaries of the San Antonio River, which runs through the park, thanks to River Authority member Sally.

When it was over, Mary Lil checked her pedometer and announced that we had taken 6,199 steps, totaling 2,333 miles. Because less than a sixth of the steps were in the moderate range, indicating more energy expended, the calorie count was a mere 159 burned. As she put it: “have a blast with a piece of bread.”

In Mary's case, it was some flaming hot chips leftover from the park outing. In Chica's and mine, it was a couple of extra doggie treats.

Of Hay and Spray

Seems like it’s either feast or famine with the Brackenridge Park walkers. Last week no one showed up but my mistress. This week, there were seven.

It was a misty morning and we had planned to head into the interior of the park. But a maintenance man warned us that there was a pack of wild dogs, so instead we walked around the periphery of the zoo to the so-called Donkey Barn, where two walkers who had gotten a late start met us.

The rock structure with an Alamo-like façade is so named because they used to store hay in it for the donkeys that were used for children’s rides in the 1920s. My mistress told the others her mother recalled the rides, but what Mary remembers is sitting on a huge stuffed jackrabbit at the Zoo entrance and having her picture taken as she sat in its saddle. From there we ambled back to the zoo. Three stalwarts mushed on to the Sunken Gardens, which looked and smelled glorious with all the blooming flowers.

Back home, Chica and I crashed for a while but now we’re pumped for the next adventure. Providing Mary brings pepper spray, that is.

Was the White Shaman worth it?

When is this going to stop? Yet again my mistress has left me and Chica to languish at the vet’s. It was only for a weekend, but any time spent in those cages is too much. I’ll have to admit that they are clean and roomy and that the folks take us out every day to stretch our legs. But we want to be at home in our own bed--even if we do have to share it with our master and mistress.

So where did they go to justify leaving us like that? To see the White Shaman. In case you're wondering, he's a stick figure on the wall of a shelter near the Pecos River out of Del Rio. Don’t ask me why people hike down a slippery slope to see squiggly rock paintings. But they do. And after we got sprung from the vet’s, we had to hear our master and mistress natter on and on about what they thought the drawings meant.

Better they ponder what we dogs are thinking-- especially when they leave us behind. But never mind, we’re home again and enjoying the spring weather. On Monday, Mary had intended to walk without us in Brackenridge Park since the vet wasn’t open. Since every single member of the walking group had conflicts, ranging from emergency health crises to car repair issues, she sprung us early at the vet’s and we had an hourlong meander through the neighborhood. After that, all was forgotten--and forgiven.

Calorie Conundrum

They say the third time’s the charm. For the last two Mondays, bad weather has prevented the Brackenridge Belles and Bitches from doing their thing. Not today. Six ladies and two dogs clocked 2.48 miles, burning off some 168 calories each.

According to Belle Mary Lil Chappell’s pedometer, that totals more than 6,000 steps per person. Now I’m not a math whiz, but I figure since Chica and I are at least eight times shorter, that would make nearly 50,000 steps for us dogs. And that’s not taking into account that we have twice as many legs. Problem is I don’t know whether to divide or multiply by two to come with the correct number of steps for us. Any ideas?

We started our hour-plus walk at the home of Brackenridge Belle Sally Buchanan, whose home is more or less surrounded by the Park. After showing us her striking Turkish-tiled bath and kitchen, she led us across the BP golf course to the entrance of the massive underground tunnel that carries water under the city to prevent downtown flooding.

On the way back we walked along the Catalpa-Pershing ditch, passing the back of what was Butter Krust Bakery, soon to be the new headquarters of C. H. Guenther and Sons. There were enough construction workers renovating it to warrant a mobile food truck.

Sadly, the ladies didn’t patronize the traveling food truck so we didn’t get any leftovers. But looking on the bright side, given our size relative to the ladies, we must have burned more than 1,344 calories apiece. Or is it 2,688? Any ideas?

Back on Track--in the Park

On Monday four Brackenridge Belles and two bitches walked in the park. It was the first foray of the New Year, following a two-month holiday hiatus. The walk was long, from the Zoo to the golf bridge (Mary Lil clocked 2.2 miles), but conversation never lagged. Honestly I can’t imagine how the Belles can find so many things to yammer about.

But then the ladies probably can’t imagine why we dogs need to savor every scent that the park has to offer. Infuriatingly, we have to inhale quickly, since they are always urging us on. One of the ladies expressed wonder at how we never flagged. Well duh. We have twice as many legs, even if they are shorter. And, we don’t tire ourselves talking.

When we get home we can usually summon up the energy to have a fine fight, complete with growling and bared teeth. Of course it's only theater. But it seems to fascinate our mistress, who never tires of taking pictures of our skirmishes.

Pura Vida: Keep it Going...

Now that Chica and I are back home I’m getting over my pique at being left at the vet’s. While master and mistress gadded about Costa Rica for a week, I had to endure both a cage and Chica's high pitched barks. When Mary finally came to pick us up, one of the keepers commented, “the little one sure does bark a lot.” Amen.
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Meanwhile Mary and Lewis were living the good life in the country whose motto is "pure vida." They visited three volcanoes, rafted down the Sarapaqui River, camped in tents at the Hacienda Pozo Azul eco resort, and walked through the Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve. My mistress wrote an article about the trip for the San Antonio Express-News. You can check out the story on the mysanantonio.com website or go to: http://www.mysanantonio.com/life/travel/article/COSTA-RICA-PuraVida-2494571.php

Chica and I are hoping some of the pura vida outlook has taken hold, since Lewis and Mary are paying more attention to us. Maybe I shouldn’t complain so much when they travel, assuming they go to a place that has the right motto.