“Nice dog,” he said. “Boy or girl?”
Izzy was sitting in my lap. I was sitting in a folding chair in the middle of creek. The seat of the chair was in the water. A bright sun was shining, which was good for Izzy who was drying off from her fourth or fifth swim across the creek.
Yes, Barton Creek is flowing. We’ve a few rains this spring, and although the creek has dried up a few times already, it was flowing from the rain early last week.
The man had just waded into the water from the far bank where he had been climbing Seismic Wall. This is one of several popular spots for climbing in Austin. The canyon wall shoots straight into the sky just a few feet beyond the creek’s edge. There are always climbers here.
And this guy was a climber. He had just scaled the cliff, planting a rope onto bolts and chains for other climbers not as adept as he. It was like watching Spiderman, his limbs splayed out grabbing the slightest toe- and finger-hold as he scrambled 50 feet into the air making it look easy. At the top, he almost succeeded in getting over the flat shelf that juts out ten feet.
“A girl,” I said. “Her name is Izzy.”
He nodded. “I should have known. Otherwise he’d have to be mighty confident of his masculinity with a pink leash like that.”
I chuckled and thought of the day we bought it.
The man sat down in the water to watch the other climbers. Behind us, some kids skipped stones downstream. Izzy sat quietly watched them.
The sun came out from behind a cloud, and the cool water of the creek flowed across my legs.