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.