Texas is another country...

Texas is another country...I have driven into Texas from all four directions and can affirm that after crossing that imaginary state line you just know you are in Texas . The world becomes wide open space, the sky feels higher, you can stretch out and rest a spell.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

TEXAS PETS

Post by Liza Stein

While I was growing up, my family lived in the Dellview subdivision in San Antonio just up the street from a Texas Whip where I went for ice cream.  The Alwais Toy Store and Winn’s and Handy Andy grocery stores were just a few blocks away.  All the streets in Dellview were named after animals we had never seen....Addax (aka white antelope) was ours, Lemur, Panda, Eland, etc. We had a pecan tree in the back yard that gave us fresh pecans for pralines and pie and a fig tree that my mother made fig preserves from every year.  My mother wasn't much of a gardener and didn't plant any flowers, which our pets would have dug up anyway.   

When I was three, we had a boxer mix named Major (because he was given to us by a major in the Army who was transferred).  Major was my buddy.  I was an only child, left to act on my imagination unsupervised and one day I wondered how Major would look wearing lipstick.  I got the lipstick from my mother’s vanity, and after finishing Major’s makeover, I dragged the rest of the lipstick down the side of our white house.  When my mom saw what I had done, that day ended badly for me.

Major was also my bodyguard and my mom didn’t seem to mind that her three-year-old daughter wandered around the neighborhood with him alone.  He was a dog with a short fuse and was scary to anyone he didn’t know well.  Our chain link fence couldn’t hold him and he was a menace to the neighborhood.  The boys who sold tomatoes and donuts door-to-door in the summertime learned to skip our block.  Once when I was walking with him to get an ice cream at the Texas Whip, a man patted my head.  Major went after him and literally tore out the seat of his pants. 

He also chased cars and was quite a Romeo.  He tore open a neighbor’s screen to get to a fancy breed in heat and the owner was really mad…big surprise.  It might have been that neighbor who called the dog catcher. 

The dog catcher may have tried to catch Major, but he ended up shooting him and leaving him for dead.  We got him patched up – my mother kept the bullet in the little drawer of the sewing machine cabinet – but he didn’t stay with us much longer. 
Shortly after he got better, he got sent away.  My mom was broiling a steak.  She kept the broiler door open so she could watch in case the steak caught fire.  When she turned her back for a minute, Major grabbed the steak and ran out the front door.  We had a screen door that he could push open at a full run.  That was the last straw and a few days later, he was gone.

Mom said Major went to live on a farm.  But I still wonder – did he live on the farm or did he buy it.

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