On boots and bars and motorbikes...

You met my dog, Hico, in my last installment. We were talking about how you could pick up on all sorts of things from a dog's bark, if you learned how to listen. And as promised, allow me to introduce said possum. (Don't get too attached to him.) And here's where we left off: There’s the choppy, the-puppies-are-missing bark, usually in concert with some other hound (or hounds), clear across town. You can almost make out each dot and dash of their canine Morse code, passing on their messages in a sort of doggy dictation. Then there’s the throatier, stouter “BA-ruff!” she slings at most passersby. It’s the this-is-my-yard-so-you-best-keep-walking bark. Works like a charm, most days, especially when you toss in that tremendous leap of hers. Few and far between are those who loiter on my block. Finally, you’ve got the break-out-straight-jacket, aliens-have-landed, ninjas-are-on-the-roof bark. It’s about five parts wolf pack, three parts Rottweiler and two parts get-your-ass

Like most everything I write, even most outlandish of fictions, there's a good chance there's some hint of truth hidden somewhere. Some would say that probably makes me a rather liar, and I wouldn't tell them they're wrong. Every once in a while, though, you really gotta facts because you couldn't make up shit that good if you tried. That's the definitely the case with this next piece. . . And be patient: We'll get to the possums. Trust me... Meet Hico, a Boxer/Shepard mix that'll make you rethink your religious convictions once she gets to snarling and leaping every bit of five feet straight up, well above the four-foot fence that surrounds the yard. She's never gotten out, but I truly have no idea why that is. She's more than capable. Hard to believe that  she fit in the palm on my hand, the day I brought her home... *** I’m sure my notions on animals in general make me outright barbaric by most standards today,

First thing I read this morning, on what was supposed to be the opening day of spring semester: Stay the hell home! I may be editorializing a bit, but I'm sure that's what they meant. After all, hell's probably coated ice about now. South Texas soon will be. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens when rain, which is falling now at my house, hits a frozen road, which if it ain't yet, soon will be. Temperatures are expected to dip as low as 20 degrees with a stiff north wind blowing, which for anyone who knows this part of the world--20 degrees and a hard wind combined with our always delectable humidity, set to soggy year-round-- it ought to feel downright tundra outdoors today. For a dude who would've otherwise two-wheeled it to school today to teach classes (the Harley's my sole transport), those cancellations were a kindness. I don't think they make clothes warm enough to endure that kind of weather, nothing you'd find anywhere in