Oakwell Farms Adventure

On Monday, seven Belles and us two bitches were treated to a walking tour of Oakwell Farms, led by member Marijane, who lives in a townhome there. She led us down a wooded, paved trail along a small creek. While we walked she detailed the history of the Tobin family’s former ranch/farm, now developed into a gated planned community.

Oakwell Farms, we learned, was named after Edgar Tobin’s wife’s family’s ancestral home in Yorkshire, England: Oakwell Hall. After acquiring the property in 1945, Edgar installed an elaborate irrigation system, remnants of which remain. His son, philanthropist Robert Tobin, built a landmark home there, now used for special events.

But what interested us dogs more than the history bit was a little striped snake that crossed our path. Of course our mistress held us back, worried that it might be dangerous.

Throughout the morning, we were all distressed by Chica’s periodic shrieking. It was obvious that something was hurting her, but no one could tell exactly what it was. Except the vet. Mary ran us to Dr. Kothmann as soon as we left Oakwell and he determined that she had a bad crick in her neck due to a spill she had taken Sunday night. Thankfully, after Mary gave her an anti-inflammatory for doggies, she perked right up and never had another holler.

One Man's Trash can be Another Dog's Treasure

On Easter Monday, Brackenridge Park was a mess. A hailstorm that passed through the afternoon before scattered leaves and branches all over the ground--this in addition to mounds of catkins dropped by oaks.

To make it worse, the whole place had a droopy “the party’s over” aspect due to trash accumulation from a weekend of revelry. It’s a longstanding Easter tradition, passed from generation to generation, for families to pitch tents in the park, cook barbacoa, hunt eggs and break piñatas hung from trees. People come from afar to see (and photograph) merrymakers enjoying this colorful park-wide Easter weekend party. But when it’s over, it’s over.

People are good about putting their trash in large black garbage bags that are provided, but this year's sudden hailstorm forced many folks to dash out before finishing the cleanup. Chica and I spied one table that still had cups and plates laid, ready for a meal that was never served due to the storm.

Volunteers and paid workers slogged through mud to collect soggy trash the morning after. But on the bright side, it left a bonanza of treats for me and Chica to sniff out. For us, the party had just begun.