Brackenridge Belles in Bandera County

Once again Mary and the Brackenridge Belles gathered in the country to walk without us bitches. Last time it was at Pam’s South Texas spread near the Mexican border. This time it was at Mary’s little place in Bandera County.

While Lewis kept us dogs at home, where it rained incessantly, Mary and five lady friends had lunch at the storied Mac and Ernie's cafe in Tarpley, then drove up to Utopia and hiked in Lost Maples State Natural Area, where it was nice and sunny.

The next day the rain reached Tarpley, where the walk they had planned along the creek at Mary’s place became a slippy sloppy one. Fortunately no one fell and after slogging back to the house, they had an indoor picnic lunch before heading home in a driving rain.

It’s probably just as well they didn’t include us, though I would never admit that to Mary. Better to keep her feeling guilty so she will give us treats to compensate, no?

Meandering on Mackinac and Mustang Islands

After Mary and Lewis got back from a two-week trip to eastern Europe in early July, you’d think they would have stayed home awhile. Wrong. Mary turned right around and left for another two weeks, this time to Mackinac Island to visit her cousin, Amelia Musser.

While Lewis tended to us as he worked on his upcoming book on San Antonio’s Spanish plazas in the frontier era, Mary reveled in Michigan’s cool weather and spent hours walking in the woods above Grand Hotel, owned by Amelia and her family.

The Grand, where “Somewhere in Time” was filmed, is one of those storied places that has to be seen to be believed. Its columned porch—the longest in the world—commands a spectacular view of Lake Michigan. But the interior is just as breathtaking, furnished with gorgeous antiques and paintings.

If dogs were allowed in the lobby Chica and I would have loved seeing the trophy room, devoted to Sadie, the Musser’s dog that won best in show at the Westminster Dog Show at Madison Square Garden in 2010. We would also have liked partaking of treats in Sadie’s Ice Cream parlor, a new addition at one end of the hotel, named for our famous canine cousin.

Well no sooner than Mary got home than she and Lewis turned around and went to Port Aransas for a long weekend, leaving us dogs at home to be checked on by cousin Ian Lanphear. Don’t get me wrong: Ian’s great. But we prefer it when our master and mistress are here to tend to our needs 24/7. And we hated missing all those hourlong walks Mary took every morning on the beach.

At least we’ve had a couple of walks in Brackenridge Park between trips. Last Monday five ladies showed up for an hour’s walk that began in the cool and ended in the heat. A pity we weren’t walking on Mackinac Island instead.

All about Ossuaries

Chica and I have learned that it’s never good news when Mary and Lewis bring out the suitcases.

Sure enough they took off to Central Europe for two and a half weeks. Thankfully we got to stay in the house with cousin Ian dropping by daily to walk and feed us.

We were not particularly interested in hearing Mary and Lewis carrying on about places like Krakow, Budapest and Vienna after they got back. But we pricked up our ears when we heard of the ossuary they saw in Kutna Hora near Prague.

For those not in the know, an ossuary is a place where bones are kept. And being dogs we’re all about bones.

In this particular case a blind monk got creative and used bones to make garlands, chandeliers--even a coat of arms to decorate a chapel. No dogs allowed of course.

Now that they are back, Mary is again taking us for weekly walks in Brackenridge Park with the Belles. Hopefully she won’t get the wanderlust anytime soon. No bones about it!

Of Dog Kisses and Seaborgium

A funny thing happened as my master and mistress were leaving on a trip last week. Of all things he tried to kiss me. Now Mary is a dog kisser from way back, but Lewis? It was so out of character that I panicked and lunged at him, growling. At that point, Mary (who had shamed him into the attempted buss) collapsed in hysterical laughter.

You can be assured that Lewis tried no such thing upon their return. Instead he nattered on and on to Mary about all the people and places they had seen. The pretext for the trip was his 50th college reunion at Allegheny College in Meadville, Pa. But they prefaced the visit with a two-day-stay in Pittsburgh with cousins.

Turns out Pittsburgh is a real sleeper, filled with sights ranging from the Andy Warhol Museum to the Heintz History Center to the National Aviary. Nearby is Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece, which Mary and Lewis visited enroute to Meadville.

In Meadville Lewis reveled in reconnecting with classmates, most of whom he hadn’t seen since graduation. Turned out the star of the class was a women who ended up earning a PhD in nuclear physics at MIT, discovering an element (Seaborgium), supervising defense work for the government, and in her spare time bareboat sailing the world over, writing a novel and winning national-level dressage awards.

Wonder if she’s a dog kisser?

Ranging down the Hondondo

On Monday, the Brackenridge Belles (and Bitches) walked the Judson Nature Trails in Alamo Heights with Sally Ann Smith, founder of Friends of Hondondo Creek. For those not in the know, Hondondo Creek is a semi-natural creekbed that wends its way, starting near Cambridge Elementary School, southwest through the Jack Judson Trails and joins Olmos Creek within the eastern edge of the Olmos Park Floodplain.

Smith and others have formed a 503(c)(3) organization that is soliciting funds to restore the network of forested trails-- home to an abundance of wildlife and more than 100 species of birds—into “a healthier, more natural condition as a means of enhancing the quality of life for citizens of all ages.” They also hope to develop educational programs for all ages and to create an outdoor nature learning center near the main entrance to the trails, by the Alamo Heights Pool.

Chica and I loved the sights and smells as we wandered through, stopping from time to time as Smith indicated points of interest. Her group plans to clear out invasive non-native plants, clear trash, and improve walking trails. Happily, leashed dogs are welcome and we dogs just can’t wait to come back. Those wanting more information can email hondeodondocreektrails.org or call (210) 602-7227.

Strolling down Salado--bit by bit

For the past two weeks, the Brackenridge Belles have explored segments of the Salado Creek linear park. Thanks to Mary’s son Maverick and his adventurous dogs, Chigurh and Sir Walter, Chica and I have already been on those trails. But it was in the heat of summer and we were plagued by mosquitos.

This was different. Thanks to a unseasonably cool spring, we have had two glorious walks, one north of Loop 410 past Los Patios and, this past Monday, one south of Loop 410 leading to the Austin Highway.

Talk on the second walk was all about Belle Martha’s attendance at the dedication of the George Bush Library at SMU. Martha’s husband, Sichan Siv, was a U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations under the younger Bush.

This Monday, we plan to walk south to the trailhead near Fort Sam Houston. And, given that there are more Salado segments farther north, we may not be back to Brackenridge for awhile. At least not until the mosquitoes arrive.

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.

A new Bitch joins the Belles

On Monday four Belles walked the park--with three, yes three bitches. The new canine addition to the group is a Great Pyrenees with a girly girl name: Izzabelle. Izzabelle, as it turns out, has lovely manners. When Chica barked in her face-- which she always does when she sees large dogs--Izzabelle politely ignored her. Thank goodness. Had she chosen, Izzabelle could have consumed Chica in a gulp. But by the end of the walk past the Sunken Gardens and into the woods, we bitches had become fast friends So we're hoping that new Belle Francie brings Izzabelle again next week.

Belles sans Bitches go Exotic

Nine of the Brackenridge Belles walked last Monday on the grounds of the old Denman family estate. There, they paused to admire a colorful pavilion built by San Antonio's Korean sister city before walking to the Asian-inspired condo of Belle-member Lyn. Continuing their international explorations, the ladies shopped at Ali Baba, a Middle Eastern grocery store nearby, and lunched next door at Pasha, where they enjoyed everything from tabouli salad to Persian-style rice. All of that was fine for them but what about us bitches? Thanks goodness they will be back at Brackenridge next Monday so Chica and I can come, too.

To Dig or not to Dig

This week the Belles walked to an archaeological dig at the northern edge of Brackenridge Park, where remains of an original acequia are being unearthed near the San Antonio River. For those who may not know, acequias were ditches used by Spanish settlers to divert water from the river to their dwellings. While that was not of particular interest to us dogs, a rib bone on the ground nearby interested us greatly. And we didn't even have to dig for it!

Border Country Adventure--sans Chihuahuas

Almost every Monday Chica and I can count on a bracing one-hour walk in Brackenridge Park with our mistresses’ walking group, the Brackenridge Belles. But this week the ladies went bush. Literally.

Three-plus hours south of San Antonio and a mere eight miles from the Mexican border, the brushy desert-like San Pedro Ranch, co-owned by one of the walkers, is a radical departure from the park. This is where the ladies drove on Sunday afternoon. Knowing them, I'm sure they were gossiping all the way down.

The San Pedro is inhabited by the likes of coyotes, javelinas, wild hogs, red shouldered hawks, bobcats, rattlesnakes, even the occasional mountain lion--none, I might say, friends to little Chihuahuas.

As the ladies approached the headquarters, a large rattler lay dead on the road, just killed. Once they got to the complex of white stucco buildings that comprise the headquarters (one of the buildings is a historic stagecoach stop), their hostess explained that the snake would be draped over a fence in accordance with Mexican legend--which holds that doing so will bring rain.

There is a rich profusion of spiny plants on this flat, far-as-the-eye-can-see stretch of land. They range from several varieties of cactus, including five types of prickly pear, to white and black brush, whose blooms perfumed the air with the smell of spring; huajillo, which closes its leaves in the heat of the day; tasajillo, whose red berries are favorites of wild turkey; and Spanish dagger.

After a good night's sleep and a morning walk, the ladies drove over a portion of the ranch, guided by a range management specialist who is helping the owners select the least environmentally harmful spots to place new drilling sites, since the ranch is in the Eagle Ford. The ladies were fascinated both with lessons in native plants and in the process of drilling for oil.

Who knew that so much care can be taken in selecting a drilling site with respect to drainage and plant diversity? That sites are then cleared and flattened into a "platform" resembling a home building site before drilling and fracking with underground water? At the San Pedro Ranch, even the color of storage tanks--painted a grayish green-- are considered, so as blend in better with the landscape.

While Chica and I would have loved to have been with our mistress and her friends, as soon as we heard about the rattlesnake (not to mention the coyotes, hawks, bobcats and mountain lions) we were happy not to have been included. Hopefully, however, we’ll be there when our mistress takes the ladies up to our tame little place in the Hill Country.

Hangin' around the House with Ian--Good Stuff

Once again, Mary and Lewis have left us behind. This time they went to the Yucatan peninsula, where they saw mysterious Mayan ruins and sipped margaritas. In the past, they’ve left us at the vet’s. But who wouldn’t prefer to be in her own digs? Well this time around our master hired his college-age cousin to check on us at home and take us on walks. We really loved stayng in our own room, and when he came to check on us he was a lot of fun. His name is Ian Lanphear and he can be reached at (412) 719-4071. So listen up, doggie friends: tell your masters to call Ian. You won't regret it.

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.