November 2, 2008 – I learned odn the book tour that a lot of people like photos of the three dogs together, so I came across one this afternoon, the three of them posing like statues on a Washington, D.C. park.
  Two days ago, I was driving around in Austin, and we went past a tattoo parlor, and I turned to the media escort (a person hired by the publisher to drive writers around so they won’t get lost or walk into trees) and said, “you know, I think I’d like to get a tattoo.” I don’t really know what sparked that, but it seemed an impulse I ought to follow, and so we went to the Book Shop, a great independent bookstore in Austin, and there were several staffers with tattoos who were a bit surprised but delighted I was interested in a tattoo. They showed me theirs and encouraged me to get mine, and so we rushed over to S. Lamar St (I had to be at the LBJ Library for a tour) and met Chad and the crew and we had a long discussion about choices, colors and styles and then we went to work – I had a lot of explaining to do to these friendly and intense young  artists about how I wrote about dogs and animals and rural life, and how I lived on a farm with donkeys, goats, sheep, dogs and cows. “Neat,” said Chad, grabbing his needles. “I have a dog.” We debated a lot of choices and styles. I won’t go into the details of my tattoo, except to say I love it, am glad I got it, and had a blast at Resurrection. I recommend it. I loved Austin dearly. I met a ton of people I liked lot, including some writers, urban refugees and photographers. One of my new hobbies is talking about lenses with other photographers. I can’t afford to buy anymore, but I love seeing the ones others have. I could see living in Austin. Everybody I met loved being there.
  An hour later, my arm stinging a bit, my new tattoo swathed in ointments and plastic wrap, I made it to the LBJ library, where I was asked if I had any trouble. No, I said, just had to get a tattoo. Everybody laughed and went ahead with the tour.
  The media escort said she had not been to a tattoo parlor before in her work. Sometimes, I said, you just have to step out of yourself a bit, or you can get cold and stale, and in upstate New York, I will be cold soon enough.
  I’m still rubbing Lubriderm on my tattoo – it is about five inches long and two inches high -  and it has healed well. It’s still a bit sore. It did sting, but not too badly. I gave Chad a copy of my new book and he looked pleased but a bit puzzled. “I’m not a huge reader,” he said, “but I’ll read it to my daughter.”