Bitches and the Bridge

Since two Wednesday Walkie Talkies had to be done early yesterday, the ladies moved briskly, starting at the University of the Incarnate Word's sky bridge. The aerial walkway connects two parts of the campus high above Highway 281 as it heads downtown. We looked way down to six lanes of traffic and way up to a cloudless autumn sky.

Our objective was the storied Blue Hole on the main campus, said to be the headwaters of the San Antonio River. As we neared it we passed a stone grotto and the historic home of early day entrepreneur George Brackenridge, who sold what is now the college campus to the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word.

It turned out that the Blue Hole was not what the ladies had in mind. Due to the prolonged drought, it is all but dry despite recent rains. Worse, it is littered with trash. So we left quickly and made our way back up to the sky bridge.

When my mistress paused to take photos (which makes me crazy), other ladies took turns taking my leash. Sometimes Mary gets so carried away talking that she forgets to take the leash back, leaving me at the mercy of another WWT. But hey, I’m just happy to be one of the girls.

Which brings me to a girlie question that’s been bothering me for a while now. Why is the word for a female dog perjorative when applied to women? Dog trainers are quite comfortable calling us female dogs "bitches" but most folks shy away from the word unless trying to cause insult. This "bitch" wants to know why.

Hanging with the Big Boys

I didn’t get to walk with the WWTs yesterday because Mary had to baby-sit her granddaughter, Christina, who had fever. So instead of the tantalizing smell of dog messages on fire hydrants, I had to put up with the stench of nail polish, when Mary painted Christina’s toenails (green) for the first time. Fortunately, they did take me on a short walk down the street after lunch, when Christina felt better.

I can’t complain too much though, since I got to go to Austin over the weekend. While Mary and Lewis spent time manning their Maverick Publishing booth at the Texas Book Festival, I got to hang out back at their son Maverick’s house with Chigurh, his dog.

Now Chigurh is ten times my weight, but unlike his assassin namesake in “No Country for Old Men,” he is the essence of kindness. His friend, Townes, a weekend guest, is a little scarier as he growls from time to time, but I felt pretty comfortable hanging around with the big boys—even if they did hover over me when I ate.

Now that Mary’s grandchickens are more comfortable, they want to come out of their pen and forage for bugs. Whenever Maverick let them out, he made us dogs stay indoors, which was a drag. But I must admit we did relish the leftover scrambled eggs after breakfast.

A Matter of Class

When my mistress uncovered me in our nice warm bed at the crack of dawn today, I was not a happy canine camper. In fact, as soon as she carried me to the kitchen and put on my halter I tried to run back to bed. Being fifteen times my size, she naturally prevailed and soon we were on our way to another Wednesday Walkie Talkie adventure.

This time there were only three walkers, who decided to “do” the Mahncke Park neighborhood, a five-minute drive away. Starting from the San Antonio Botanical Garden parking lot, we moved up and down streets of charming bungalows, many with snappy, sustainable landscapes.

One especially quirky house had a Moroccan style open-air gazebo on the flat roof, furnished for entertaining. Called La Mirage, it is owned by a flamboyant hair stylist named Karlos. Another house had a skinny Dr. Seuss-like two-story screen porch perched in front. Then there was the run-down place with a sign on the front door announcing “Beware of dog.” All we saw there was a bunch of cats lounging around the entrance, which is fine by me as I’ve never cared for guard dogs. (As far as I’m concerned, it’s a matter of class--they all lack good manners.)

One more thing: word comes from Austin that another of Maverick’s chickens is about to start laying. His champion layer produces almost every day. Now a second of his red hens is starting to crouch, which is a sign they she is about to lay. I can’t wait to see them when we go to Austin for the Texas Book Festival. This time I’ll have the class to leave them be.

In Rain or Shine

It was threatening rain on Wednesday so the Wednesday Walkie Talkies almost didn’t walk. (In fact, later in the day it did rain cats and well, dogs.) Umbrellas in hand, Five WWTs and I struck out from Olmos Park in a westerly direction, passing through a couple of gentrifying neighborhoods.

My mistress was elated with the number of chain link fences with dog statues on top. (She collects those, though unfortunately the chain link manufacturers never had the sense to make a statue of a Chihuahua.) My favorite thing was a yard filled with skeletons emerging from the ground. Mary is crazy for Halloween decorations and went gaga over that one. If those had been real bones I’d have been set for life.

When the ladies got back to Carol’s house--where they always begin their adventures--she gave Mary a rural mailbox. The architect for Mary’s screen porch had suggested using one out front and lo! Carol (who has a keen eye for the retro) produced one that had belonged to an uncle in Nebraska.

As construction continues on the porch (Will it EVER end?) I am compelled to bark at a succession of workmen. Earlier it was carpenters and painters. Now it’s electricians. On that subject, Mary and Lewis met this week with an architect, Graham Martin, who has started a full time business designing decorative light fixtures. They selected a copper sconce with a cut-out design that resembles tile patterns they saw on mosques in Iran last year. Yes, Iran.

And guess where I was while they were admiring the Shah Mosque in Isfahan? The vet’s of course. Well, they do say it’s a dog’s life.

Sadie, my Amazing Canine Cousin

I usually only scribble on the day the Wednesday Walkie Talkies do their thing. But some breaking doggie news has just arrived from Mary’s first cousin, owner of Champion Roundtown Mercedes of Maryscot.

Now that’s an awfully long name for a rather small dog. But this isn’t just ANY dog. Sadie, as she is also known, just swept the prestigious Montgomery County Kennel Club show in Maryland. “It’s the one you want to win,” notes her mistress, Amelia. “People come from all over the world. It’s the big one for terriers.”

The four-year-old Scottie is not only the nation’s number one terrier. With more than 80,000 points accumulated at competitions around the U.S., she is also the number one dog in the country. Sadly, I didn’t get to meet her when she competed (and won) in San Antonio this summer. But my mistress Mary raved on and on about her after seeing her here. (OK I’m a mutt but tell my why I couldn’t have gone to the show, too? After all I AM a princess).

I had to hear all about her glossy coat (so what?--they brush it all the time), her amazing eyebrows (enhanced with Mexican moustache wax—big deal), her poise (as a princess I’m all about regal bearing too). Really it was too much. But I have to admit, this is pretty amazing. So I think I’m just going to claim this canine cousin and hope she takes the Garden (as in Madison Square). Last year she competed there in the Westminster dog show, where she was in the finals as top terrier. This year she could ace it. Viva Sadie!!!

Forgotten but Forgiving

Well it had to happen. Remember when I told you my mistress almost forgot to take me one week? Well this time she REALLY forgot. My master, Lewis, noticed that I was especially agitated about Mary’s departure. Well duh. Don’t humans understand that dogs know everything they know and then some?

Anyway while I whiled the time away in my nice soft bed, Mary traipsed around with two WWT buddies in the sticky humidity, discussing things ranging from how to recolor an oriental rug on the cheap (use ripe prickly pear cactus fruit called tunas) to whom they knew in the obituaries today.

Though I don’t regret the conversation, I’m sorry not to have seen the latest seasonal decoration at Bumper’s house. That’s the doggie I memorialized awhile back whose mistress dresses up a pair of dog statues in front of the house from time to time. For Halloween they are duded up as an alien and a witch. Scaaa-ry.

As they walked through Olmos Park Terrace, a neighborhood literally across the railroad tracks from Olmos Park, the ladies took note of the number of sustainable landscapes. My mistress--who is planning a low-water-tolerant yard once the porch is finished. (Will it ever be?)--gleaned several ideas.

When she got back Mary immediately took me on a walk. She also gave me part of a hot dog she’d bought at Costco as a peace offering. Since hot dogs are my thing I immediately forgave her. BUT SHE HAD BETTER NOT FORGET ME EVER AGAIN. Dog’s honor.

Porch-to-be

This week the ladies took a bye for a variety of reasons, one of which was that my mistress had a sore throat. It was just as well since with rain predicted, the atmosphere was quite close. So instead of nattering about where the WWTs went and what they said, today I’ll talk about matters closer to home.

For the last couple of months, Mary and Lewis’ (and my) house has been quite chaotic due to construction. Imagine this: they have decided to go retro with a screened-in front porch. But this is not your grandmother’s screen porch. It is high up from the ground and has a pitched roof that makes our little house look--as the architect puts it in a soaring superlative--“heroic.” Another of architect John Grable’s favorite ways of describing the addition is “transformative.” (Do they offer courses in architect speak?).

The porch is constructed with huge cedar beams and features a cement floor and bronze screen wire. I love to sit on it and watch my doggy friends pass by on the street. Since the front door and front steps haven’t been completed, I can jump down to the ground—a risky endeavor that I’ve only tried twice. ( The last thing a princess needs is a broken leg.)

As soon as it’s finished Mary intends to have the Wednesday Walkie Talkies and their spouses over for a covered dish dinner. My question is, will she invite J.D. and Cooper and Maddie and Bella and Max? I'd love to show off my porch to those WWT doggies.