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The Duchess Takes a Ride

This is how it happens. You innocently leave your home one afternoon on a routine mission: teach a young dog how to walk on a leash.

Because you are a genius, you think, “I’ll take my best leash-walker, Hammy, with us so he can set an example for young Annie.”

And that is how someone larger than a Yellowstone National Park bear winds up in the extended cab of a Ford truck with a nearly 90-pound Great Dane/Lab mix named Hammy and 50-pounds of wiggly heeler mix named Annie. Both are rescued dogs, members of our family by virtue of  their hearts.

Our mission was to take Annie, uncomfortable on a leash and more comfortable prone, to a piece of nice flat public land and show her that walking on a leash is no big deal. Millions of dogs and husbands do it every day, though, of course, the husbands are always on the short leash.

Now because it was a Wednesday, there was one routine stop absolutely necessary before we could hit the park or school ground for a walking lesson.

Your bear-like driver, wearing a scraggly beard and operating shower-free for the day, had his money in the pocket of his thoroughly unattractive sweatpants. He was wearing no socks and sneakers so old that the little piggy who went to market tried to nudge through the near-hole worn in the side of shoe. I had an old ragged golf shirt on underneath a hooded blue sweatshirt. My hair looked like I’d brushed it with a Sunbeam mixer set on “lumpy potatoes.”

Don’t try to imagine it. It’ll only make you wonder why I’m not institutionalized at the Sanitarium for People Who Should Be Locked Out of Sight Until Aliens From the Planet Distresso Come to Take Them Back Home.

So, we made the aforementioned stop at a filling station at Hampton and 67, not far from our house. I pulled up near the door of the small building, cracked both windows, locked the doors and went in to get a Lotto Texas ticket. Eight million bucks would help a lot, you know?

As long as I was in there, I thought, I’ll get a soft drink. And I took about six steps to the chiller or whatever they call the “Coke box” these days. There on a rack was a Barq’s Root Beer. That company has a funny TV commercial these days, so I thought, “I haven’t had one of those in a while, I’ll get one.”

From where I was standing I could see the dogs in the pickup at all times. Hammy, the big rascal, took his usual place behind the wheel, as if he were licensed to drive in the State of Texas – we all know he’s licensed only to perform weddings. Annie moved to the passenger seat and sat quietly like Hammy’s patient date. She apparently gets the wiggles only when I’m in the driver’s seat.

I paid for the Lotto ticket and the root beer and joined the dogs in the truck.

Hammy moved to the passenger seat, Annie went to the little back seat and I buckled myself in. Before starting the truck I said to myself, “I believe I’ll have a big ol’ swig of refreshing Barq’s root beer.”

So, I twisted off the cap, put the bottle to my mouth and took two big gulps. As I swigged, I was looking right now my giant nose and following the line of sight along the bottle just as if it were a sophisticated sighting mechanism. Right across the filling station parking lot, on the car wash lot next door, was a brown puppy. A confused brown puppy.

“Oh, man,” I thought. “Just what we need. One more dog in the truck and one more vet bill for taking care of someone else’s dog.”

But you can’t just drive off when a puppy appears to be sauntering toward traffic. Well, some of us can’t.

I quickly drove onto the car wash lot and the puppy, of course, ran off the asphalt onto a vacant lot between the car wash and the freeway and hid in a giant clump of shrubbery – I mean a clump of shrubbery as big as a house.

Leaving excited Hammy and Annie in the truck, I grabbed my rescue leash and stepped toward the shrubbery. The puppy – by now I could see that it had a cheap rope around its neck and it was some sort of sharpei mix --  came walking out to meet  me. Then it turned and ran back into the shrubbery. I could pull limbs down and stick my head in and see the dog sitting in the “clearing” under the foliage. When I took 15 or 20 steps toward the other end of the clump, I could hear the dog walking along with me. So I walked all the way to the end and sat down.

In about five minutes the little dog could stand it no longer and came waltzing out to see what I was doing. My patience was soon rewarded – she took enough steps toward me to sniff my hand and when she did, I gently petted her nose, leaned a little and grabbed the frayed rope around her neck. (You can see the rope in the picture.)

She has a beautiful face, expressive eyes and feet like an Irish Wolfhound’s.

Now the challenge became getting this dog – she probably weighs about 20 pounds – into the cab of the truck with nearly 90-pound  Hammy, wiggly Annie and me.

I opened the door a little and let Hammy and Annie stick their noses out and sniff the puppy. When they reacted in a friendly manner, I opened the door and got in with the puppy.

Hammy, like the gentleman he is, moved into the back seat, Annie took up her passenger seat and the puppy sat on my left leg, shoved her forelegs around my neck and pushed her cold nose under my beard and into my neck. It was, well, sweet. And wet.

There was barely enough room for her between me and the steering wheel, but she was happy to be held and she was gripping my neck like a monkey grips mommy.

We drove carefully to Dr. Vladi DeJong’s Vet Stop office at Colorado and Beckley. Once there, I unhooked my seat belt, let the puppy tighten its grip on me, yelled “Stay” at Annie and Hammy, opened the door and eased me and my burden out of the truck.

I put the puppy onto the asphalt and she flopped down like that was as far as she was going.

So, I had to tote her into the vet’s office. She’s not a light dog.

Pretty soon, my sidekickspouse Martha showed up and shot photos of the little rascal who was, of course, flopped motionless on the office floor.

In fact, Duchess, as she is now named, didn’t perk up until she was on the examination table. Why? Because Martha was talking in her “Ellie Mae Clampett high-pitched communicate with all animals of the planet” voice.

So, we’ve got Duchess into the “Shrinking Savings Account Save the Dog” system and she’ll be available for adoption soon. We’re hoping to get her into a real shelter before she comes to our house and bonds with the rest of us.

And if I can find the person who put  a cheap rope around her neck and dropped her off at a car wash, well, that guy will be needing a personal injury lawyer.

Let me say this, too: I wasn’t the only person close to that dog. There were people at the car wash who could have picked her up if they’d been so inclined, but, heck, I’m out of work and haven’t got any rich relatives, I might as well be the one to throw some of my hard-earned life savings into the account marked “Cleaning Up After Other People.” You rescuers know how that works.

The Barq’s root beer, my lone splurge so far this week, was pretty darned good. Maybe Barq’s would be willing to support our Informal Oak Cliff Dog and Cat Rescue Brigade. After all, if I hadn’t been eager to slug down that Barq’s, I’d never have looked across my nose and seen the wandering puppy.

Besides, Duchess is a calm dog. I never once heard her barq. 

Money, honey

In the aftermath of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, let me explain that our cats paid no attention to it.

None. All four of them had other things to do.

It is, after all, tax season and two of them have a place in a local mall where they help with forms and dispense advice regarding deductions. They're hoping to franchise their mall tax and perfume kiosks as "IREssence."

Our boy Inky is somewhat upset that his fellow cocker spaniels didn't mark any territory in the Best of Show ring -- their sporting dogs category was won by Carlee, the German Shorthaired Pointer who took the whole shebang. Inky thinks cockers shouldn't be in the "sporting dogs" category -- he wants a separate category called "Fab Dogs."

Moving along, we'll discuss the plight of animals outside the show ring. I'm going to quote a note I got yesterday from "Mary of Oak Cliff," a rescuer and an animal lover who is a tad ticked at the way things are going. Her note will be followed by a suggestion from someone whose idea worked. Mary's note:

"Please ask your tech-savvy wife how I would go about auctioning space on my forehead or car doors or any other place legally visible to promote spay/neuter with all proceeds to go to Angie Manriquez K9 Kids Rescue of West Dallas Street Dogs. Dog food is in really short supply and vet bills are really high. Feeding bowls, chew toys that are for the off-site neighbor dogs would be very much appreciated both by the chained dogs and the neighborhoods that have to listen to the dogs that are barking because they are bored. ... Any suggestions greatly appreciated." (My techsavvyspouse Martha may come up with an answer at some point, but for now, we have an idea from another source coming up. But, in the meantime, if you have an answer for Mary, e-mail [email protected].)

Now here's the out-of-the-blue e-mail that involves Mary.

A few years ago in another venue I wrote about a cat named Bert whose mom described him as "meatloaf-shaped." That mom, Kelli Geyer, sent a note that arrived within minutes of Mary's note yesterday. To my knowledge, the two women do not know each other, though both are big supporters of the fabulous and noble Straydog Inc. (www.straydog.org).

Kelli writes, "Just a suggestion for anyone who might want to incorporate donations to their favorite rescue into their upcoming nuptials. Now, granted, when Wayne and I got married in July, we weren't really traditional. We had our reception at a hamburger joint (Kincaid's in Fort Worth -- awesome). And instead of wedding favors, we took the money we would have spent on stuff people don't need (bubbles, matches embossed with our names) and donated the money to Straydog. Then we made a notation in our program encouraging people to go to their website (www.straydog.org) and do the same.

"I mean, really, does anyone need another candle? No. But animal rescue groups always need cash.

"I don't know if you can use this, but feel free to pass it on. I'm including a picture of us -- complete with marriage license, free of pet hair for 10 seconds."

And Kelli attached a p.s. "When I left the house this morning, Bert was 'meatloafing' in the middle of the kitchen island. That is why, when I bake something, I warn people, "Cat hair means I love you."

So, folks, there are two letters from people who happened to be of like mind on the same day.

Mary, I'm not sure brides and grooms should sell advertising on their foreheads, but, to help the animals, whatever works, you know?

That's a sweet photo of the beautiful young couple, isn't it? Bert, apparently, had stepped into the kitchen to oversee things.

Make a dog un-blue...

Well, my goodness, Debbie New of the Plano Animal shelter has an eye for art. She's spotted Laney, an 8-year-old spayed female Border Collie mix, as the spitting image of the famous "Blue Dog."

Laney was adopted from the Plano shelter 3 months ago, but has been returned because, Debbie reports, the owner "did not have enough time for her."

This dog is housebroken and up-to-date on all shots. She is a special needs day, though, because she takes an inexpensive med twice a day to control seizures. "I hope one of your readers can either help us find a home for her or adopt her. Her adoption fee is only $20. She reminds me of the famous New Orleans Blue Dog."

Goodness, a dog of this quality for only TWENTY DOLLARS! The Plano Shelter has a whole bunch of VIP (Very Important Pet) critters who have been placed in the $20-range so they can find homes and get out of the cages.

To adopt Laney, drop by the shelter at 4028 W. Plano Parkway. (See the shelter's web site at www.petfinder.org/shelters/TE01.html.)

You just can't beat having a dog around the house who is absolutely thrilled to be photographed.

This dog seems intent on watching the camera just in case a flock of sheep dashes out from behind the photographer.

Show dogs; not show dogs

How about that Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show! It went into overtime last night which reminds me that each year when I tape the second night, I inevitably forget that the show often runs past the announced 10 p.m. end. I have, sometimes, missed the "Best of Show" because I programmed the tape to shut off too soon, as it turned out.

This is merely a reminder to myself to set the VCR to record well beyond the scheduled time. Life can get complicated if we let it, I guess.

As for going into overtime, you never know if the toy group representative will hit a home run with the judge and tie-up with the herding group winner, sending things into extra innings.

But, seriously, folks, one thing the Westminster Show proves to me is that I am no judge of dogs -- I'd have picked the perky Chinese Crested last night, but the Pekinese, a cartoon-like shaggy mop who walks like he's rolling on a flat tire, won the Toy Group.

We're excited -- well, Inky and I are, anyway -- because even as this is being typed (mid-morning in Dallas), the cocker spaniels are being judged in Madison Square Garden. From the assorted cocker categories will emerge the breed's representative in the Sporting Group category.

As Inky will tell you, "We cockers are great sports." He is an English-style, black with a white blaze on his chest and a tail docked so short that he could never be a show dog because there is nothing for the handler to grab to lift him onto the stand. I've thought of arranging an "implant" for his tail, but that would require interrupting his more important work on the planet: Providing comfort and consultation for an emotionally needy human.

(This photo is Inky at rest this morning. When it comes to finding a place to sleep, he's very talented. That is the arm of our couch. He was watching TV there when he dozed off.)

SIGN 'EM UP: Animal fan and loyal reader (not even on the payroll) Chris Cattell sent a photo of a sign that reads "Please neuter your pets and weird friends and relatives."

Chris also writes of an adoption event over the weekend: "Great turn out at Bass Pro Shop today. Texas Lab Rescue will probably see four solid adoptions and we all had a great time! Thank you again for posting the information to the BLOG." My pleasure. And people interested in helping out with these rascally ol' sweetheart dogs can visit www.texaslabrescue.org.

PUPPIES: This one comes from Gail Whelan at the Companion Animal Network. "Last Friday we took the mom and seven puppies from an abandoned house that a Remax agent found starving. The puppies are about 4-5 weeks old. They are both nursing and eating puppy food. ... Today [Monday] we took a mom and five puppies abandoned at Skyline High School. These puppies appear to be 5-6 weeks old and are also nursing and eating solid food. ... We have already had all 12 puppies given their first set of shots and wormed. The momma dogs have been examined and tested for heartworms."

Yes, Companion Animal Network could use some help with handling these puppies -- foster homes or other rescue groups that have room may reach CAN via via www.petfinder.com/shelters/ca-n.html.

MORE PUPPIES: These pups and their mom, Sophie, are bunking these days with Greg & Pat Seward. Pat writes, "Angie Manriquez and Mary Garrett rescued them in West Dallas...All are so healthy. Sophie needs to gain some weight (currently weighs 35 pounds) and the puppies weight between 2 1/2 pounds to 4 pounds. Too Cute."

Now, here's a background note from Mary regarding the rescue of these dogs from unpleasant conditions. She writes, "I wish you colkd have seen Angie on her belly crawling as far into this tunnel as she could reach. Sliding back out she kept saying 'Here's another one' and 'another one', etc. The work crew and front desk staff of the Dallas Housing Authority were so involved in wanting to help Great group of guys and gals. ... To the best I can remember, there were at least 20-plus people involved in this rescue. "

Mary also writes that Mayor Laura Miller can "only wish she could get this kind of caring and cooperation at her work place."

IN PUPPY SUMMATION: So, folks, there are two notes about more puppies than anybody deserves. Bless their hearts for being here and for being blessed by people who'll help them. But, good grief, it's only mid-February, we're having what probably will turn out to be a false-spring and we have more confirmation that "puppy season" is year-round in Dallas because people don't properly tend to their animals.

The sermon of "spay/neuter" has been preached a long time in this city and we still have an annual onslaught of unwanted litters of kittens and puppies. These litters mentioned today will find homes. They are the lucky litters. They were found by people who care.

OK, enough of that. We can't change some minds. And decent people have always had to clean up after the pinheads of our planet. Just once, though, I'd like to ... well, veteran animal rescuer Beverly Fyfe, who has slogged through her share of mud and gunk to save critters, points out that in Texas it is against the law to abandon animals. And, maybe, the real estate agent who found the litter at the sale property can help authorities track down the people who abandoned that litter.

Sometimes it's tough taking the high-minded road in these matters. I guess the bad guys need to be grateful that animal people don't run things around here.

Lulu, Hunter and Benson

Happy Valentine's Day.

With that out of the way, sweethearts, let's nibble some chocolate and move into the Monday activities. I took a big chunk of the weekend off so we'll be playing catch-up with e-mail and phone calls and other things.

Martha blasted out of here early enough this morning to stop at the 7-Eleven at Kiest and Polk and pick up a stray dog from the parking lot. Typical. You stop for a Dr Pepper and get a dog instead. "She looks like she might be about to have puppies," Martha said, sending chills down both our spines.

Well, that figures. As the boys in hats and boots says, "This ain't our first rodeo."

Several years ago, Martha picked up a beagle mix off that parking lot -- that dog gifted us with a litter of puppies in our garage at Thanksgiving. All were cute. Mom and pups were all adopted to good homes.

Fortunately, Martha just now reports, the vet’s office says this new foundling, Now called "Lulu," is NOT with puppies. Even as I type this, Martha and Lulu are at the vet’s office dealing with paperwork and exams of this basenji mix. We'll have more reports later.

When Martha called with the news that she'd picked up a free dog, I'd just been reading an e-mail from "Mary of Oak Cliff" who wrote about a bunch of puppies that have been rescued by Straydog Inc. and by Angie Manriquez. Mary wrote, "All of these wiggly, messy adorable pups will be going to no kill shelters waiting for their forever family to come find them. Just one more example of how West Dallas Street Dogs make the trip North at a very early age."

Yes, Oak Cliff and West Dallas dogs do a lot of traveling before they find homes.

And I’d like to encourage people to spay and neuter their pets, but sometimes even more than that, I’d like to encourage them to make sure their animals are properly contained in houses and, if they insist, yards. I’m out of work and I don’t know how much longer Martha and I can continue to pay for solving problems created by other people. We’re not the government, you know.

STILL NEEDING HELP: Jennifer Bayer is still desperately looking for a good home for a rescued Dalmatian named Hunter. (See the story by scrolling down to the Feb. 1 entry and offer a home or a happy solution by e-mailing [email protected].)

This is a great dog. And Jennifer is juggling not only rescuing the dog, but her dad's illness. Read the earlier item. It may move you to be a helper.

MR. AVAILABLE NEEDS A QUIET PLACE: Veteran rescuer Kathy McVean writes, "I found this beautiful dog a little over a week ago. He was shy, but wanting to be friends. When I would go after him, he would stay just a little ahead of me. When I would turn to walk away, here he would come. I finally rounded him up (He really didn't want to get in my car, don't think he had ever been in one before) and got him to the vet. He's had all his shots now and has been neutered, but, of course, he is heartworm positive. ... I need a foster for him to go to because, as we all know, they [heartworm patients] have to be kept still for a period of time....So, there's our plight: I need a foster desperately. I will provide a kennel and food. he is very handsome as you can see ... He weighs about 52 pounds. He is very sweet and seems to like other dogs and doesn't seem to be concerned about cats. If someone is interested in helping, please contact me at 214-328-1490 or 214-687-6996."

Morning mulling

I just saw a promo on CBS' Sunday Morning for one of next week's stories: "70 is the new 50."

As someone who has passed the old 50 and is beyond the double-nickel, I'm wondering if I'm going to have to do stuff over that I didn't like doing the first time.

We'll now have a series of idle thoughts. Why? Because this morning I'm in the mood for being idle. These will flow forth in no particular order.

--My funspouse Martha and I, trying to drive into North Dallas during Saturday afternoon's rain, encountered a freeway snarl, so we took an alternate route.

   Martha was at the wheel as we went past Dealey Plaza in the rain and, sure enough, standing on the grassy knoll were three people, one holding a JFK souvenir newspaper, and all three pointing a various spots around the area. In the rain! Well, maybe it was their only window of opportunity -- they had to catch a plane or something and that was the only free time in their schedule.

   I watched a Laugh-In episode this morning. One of the gimmicks was "news 20 years into the future." Then Dan Rowan said, "In 1988...." Holy smoke. How old am I? Is everyone who watched Laugh-In in 1968 hoping that 70 really is the new 50? Oh, my.

   Is change a good thing? Still thinking about that one.

   Last night, as I tried to sleep by listening to the tape of an old radio show, I got to hear Dorothy Lamour sing the dreamy, easy-going "Two Sleepy People."

Frank Loesser and Hoagy Carmichael wrote this:

"Here we are, out of cigarettes

Holding hands and yawning,

see how late it gets

Two sleepy people

by dawn’s early light

Too much in love to say goodnight."

And, yet, in an age overwhelmed by stress and agitation, there's a TV commercial that uses this frantic Ashlee Simpson song:

"You make me wanna la la in the kitchen on the floor

I'll be a French maid When I meet you at the door

I'm like an alley cat Drink the milk up, I want more

You make me wanna You make me wanna scream. "

   Heck, I guess it's the same message as "Two Sleepy People...."

   Charles Osgood, on the CBS Sunday Morning program pronounced 2005 as "Twenty OH Five" today -- that made me feel way old. Can you believe we're halfway through the first decade of the 21st Century?

   The sun is out. I think I'll go enjoy the day. I suggest you do, too. Make enjoyment a lifestyle. We're not put here just to suffer. I'm almost sure.

Ode to a book store

Oh, goodness, my literatespouse Martha and I are bereft. Our Friday night date has gone sour and we are home early.

I am gravely disappointed with this rotten turn in our lives. What rotten turn? Maxwell Books is closed. We are stunned.

The DeSoto store was the only general interest book store in the great swath of property and populations from Town East in Mesquite following an arc to the southwest all the way to U.S. 67 and Cedar Hill. That's a lot of people left without easy access to books, magazines, wonderful cards, visits by local authors such as Mike Shropshire, RoseMary Rumbley, Carlton Stowers, etc.

But it's gone. Gone. A piece of the literate landscape torn away -- just like a bulldozer careened into your yard and tore out your favorite rose bush.

So, Dear Maxwell Books, at least two people miss you as if you were a relative who passed on -- no, it's even deeper, more disturbing than that. It is as if you were a fascinating, longtime friend who suddenly vanished and left behind only memories and mysteries.

You were a comfort of a store. Just the right fit. You slipped onto my hand like a well-worn, never-miss baseball glove.

I never walked out of the store empty handed. Martha says you were the perfect size: not like those huge honkin' stores that overwhelm. She says the big stores are like when you only want an after-dinner mint but you're forced to buy a whole sundae. Maxwell's was the perfect taste, the perfect size.

And the clerks at Maxwell's actually read books. They made recommendations using such wild concepts as "quality writing" and "literary" and "thought-provoking." Not just "now a major motion picture" or "a novelization of the hit film."

The clerks were bright, helpful, funny and downright polite. Many a time I've watched clerks helping with someone's homework -- not just helping the kid, but helping the harried and puzzled parent find the right book for the kid. These people cared about their customers, not just their bottom line.

Look, to me the closing of Maxwell Books is worse than the Texas Rangers letting surefire Hall of Fame catcher Pudge Rodriguez go. I can still see Pudge play on TV. But Maxwell Books isn't suiting up any more.

The last book I bought there I bought because a clerk saw me eyeing it and began to praise it without prompting. It's the story of the assembling of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair and a serial killer who took advantage of the growing city. Every page of Erik Larson's Devil in the White City is worth reading. It's art on paper. I'd waited until it was marked down to about ten bucks -- now I wish I'd paid full price. It's that good.

And I bought it at Maxwell Books, where I've bought birthday and Mother's Day and Father's Day and Valentine's Day and Christmas gifts for years and years. And now Maxwell Books is gone.

I feel like sending both a thank you-card and a sympathy card to the folks at Maxwell's. They made our lives better and I hope they know it. We will miss the store and its people. I'd buy a thank-you/sympathy card, but with Maxwell's closed, well, the selection of entertaining cards suddenly got a lot smaller around here.

Chocolate fixations

If Valentine's Day is approaching, one thing is certain. Someone will issue a reminder that chocolate is bad for your pets.

Frankly, if one of our dogs wants some chocolate, the others will have to hold a gun on me and take it. Not that chocolate is good for me, either, except psychologically, you understand.

A piece of a chocolate bar, a bite of a truffle from the SweetShop USA in Fort Worth, a ...STOP. Pass the celery, please. I can't let chocolate rule my life. Again.

The SPCA of Texas sent out a release warning of "chocolate toxicity" in pets who somehow manage to eat chocolate. The symptom are the same as poisoning and sometimes just as fatal. It's just better to be careful, I think.

My plan is to consume all the chocolate before the pets can get to it. Of course, in humans, the "chocolate overdose" symptoms include "permanent swelling in abdomen, cheeks, hips and thighs."

REMINDER: You just can't preach spay/neuter enough in Dallas. The week of Feb. 21, as part of the "Neuter Scooter for a Nickel" campaign, the SPCA of Texas and the Humane Society of the United States clinics will be offering five-cent fixes for the boys. (See www.spca.org)

Courtesy of Anita Edson at the SPCA of Texas, we have the neutering schedule (print it and pass it out to your acquaintances who are slow to understand the connection between unfixed tomcats and litters of kittens swarming their ankles.) Remember, if the cats don't have proof of rabies and FVRCP vaccination, these locations will administer those shots for $17 each on the day of the appointment. All cats must have their shots, the rules say.

Feb. 22: SPCA of Texas, 362 S. Industrial Blvd. Call 214-651-9611, ext. 116 or 133 for appointment. SPCA McKinney location, 8411 FM 7210. Call 972-562-7297, ext. 105.

Feb. 25: HSUS Spay/Neuter Clinic, 4830 Village Fair (I-35 south at Ledbetter). Call 214-372-999.

All cats must be in carriers and they can't be feral cats, according to the day's rules.

You can get those ferals fixed through other programs. Go to www.metroplexanimalcoalition.com for info about some of the local no-to-low-cost spay/neuter programs.

ADDITIONAL REMINDER: Tax day is April 15. Sorry, didn't mean to set off a chocolate craving. If you are late with your taxes, the IRS will NOT take your last chocolate bar. Surely.

Prince, pups and pondering

Well, of course, The Colonies are all astir today over news from across the pond that Prince Charles is going to wed Camilla Parker Bowles.

The prince and I are almost the same age -- he was born just a few days before I arrived. He landed in London, I landed in Texarkana. It's like we were twins. He was born with the royal genes, I was born with the fat genes. We each have heavy burdens.

I still have my hair. He has a royal crown. I wish him well in his upcoming marriage. And I am eagerly watching the mail for my invitation to the nuptials.

Now, let's get on with helping some people who are helping some critters:

HELPING LUCKY: Sometimes the people who have a story to tell are able to best tell that story. So here's the note from Barbara Sowell about beloved Lucky, the three-pawed dog.

"I am desperately trying to get my elderly mother's dog, Lucky, adopted. My mother will be 90 this year and she is now in a nursing home. I cannot adopt Lucky because I already have four adopted animals and Lucky needs a home without other pets. I am currently paying a dog sitter to provide are. I live 85 miles away from Lucky and I drive in twice a week...to check on him as well. I cannot keep this up much longer.

"I've spent untold hours sending out his story to just about every shelter and rescue group in the DFW Metroplex. So many wonderful selfless people have written to me offering suggestions and emotional support but no group or shelter has room for him at this time.

"Lucky appears to be a Doberman mix. He's a medium-sized, neutered male with all of his shots up to date.

"He is missing one paw but that doesn't slow him down. He has had limited exposure to children but has played well with my own grandchildren when they have visited him.

"He doesn't like cats and I'm not sure how he would do with other dogs -- doubtful.

"He would be perfect for a retired couple or individual without other pets. He's a loving and warm dog who just needs someone to live him again."

Barbara set up a "Link to Adopt Lucky" at www.adoptlucky.blogspot.com . E-mail Barbara at [email protected]. Or call 1-904-644-2291 or 817-475-6048.

SITUATION TO WATCH: One of the most time-consuming jobs in animal rescue is "educating" governments about the work. For example, there's a situation in Grand Saline right now. The city government is working on an ordinance that, one opponent fears, would squelch feral feeding and rescue activities by forcing people to stop feeding the ferals, thus starving them and distressing them until they simply vanish.

Caroline Edwards, a veteran feral helper, is desperate for help in persuading the city government that there are better ways to handle the situation. She has already trapped and neutered a bunch of ferals in the city, but now fears a city ordinance will force her to abandon this rescue work.

Frankly, feral cats are less of a public nuisance than some politi--, er, some other individuals.

If you have contacts or ways to help Caroline with this, e-mail her at [email protected]. If you want to e-mail the Grand Saline city manager to offer helpful suggestions for a workable ordinance, e-mail [email protected].

Be a shame to be known as "The City That Hates Cats."

A LEGISLATIVE REMINDER: The Texas Legislature is in session. You can keep up with what those folks are doing to and for animals at the Texas Humane Legislation Network's website, www.thln.com. Word from animal fan Marnie Reeder is the legendary THLN Legislative Chairman, Dallas' own Skip Trimble, will conduct an informal workshop on "How to Lobby the Legislature" Friday evening in Austin. E-mail [email protected] for a reservation or call 512-288-0068.

HART BEATS: Patty Sprong, a volunteer with HART (Humane Animal Rescue Team) sends a note regarding upcoming activities. You can check out HART's adoptables from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday at the Las Colinas PetsMart. HART has scheduled 10 a.m.-4 p.m. appearances on the 19th at the Southlake PetsMart and on the 26th at the Hurst PetsMart. Visit HART's website at www.hartoftexas.org and reach its voicemail at 214-332-9535.

LABS IN THE BOOTH: Regular reader and reliable source Chris Cattell writes to remind us that Texas Labrador Retriever Rescue will have an adoption booth from noon to 4 p.m. Saturday at the Bass Pro Shop in Grapevine. (Visit www.texaslabrescue.org.) Doesn't that sound like a natural match: Labs and the Bass Pro Shop?

Makes you wonder why running shoe stores don't host Greyhound Rescue -- oh, wait. I've been around rescued greyhounds....Be more appropriate if they were hosted by a couch store.

The Big Show

Finally all that football stuff is out of the way and we can get down to the important competition on our calendars: The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show in Madison Square Garden.

Yeah, I know mutts are just as good as purebreds, and I know some breeders are bad people, but, honestly, this show can give you a good feeling about saving all dogs. You may see pieces of your mutt prancing around in a specialty ring. Finally, you may spot a dog from a remote kingdom and realize your ol' straight-off-the-streets-of-Oak-Cliff mutt shares many characteristics with the "Imperial Delicate Nipping Treat-Snarking Temple Dog."

(This dog is Inky, a cocker spaniel who is a real champ, but will never show at Westminster. More on him below.)

Watching the show on TV, as those of us who have too many dogs to travel will do, is a fun thing and, in case you wondered, the show is Feb. 14-15 -- that's Monday and Tuesday. Read more about it at the club's site: www.westminsterkennelclub.org. The show will be broadcast on the USA Cable Network, meaning that two great shows have a home on that network: Westminster and the mystery program Monk with Tony Shalhoub.

This year, the show will admit three more breeds to the competition -- they're not three "new" breeds, just three breeds that have never before been allowed to compete at Westminster. They may have competed in other shows around the world, but this year, for the first time, Westminster will show the Glen of Imaal Terrier, the Russian Black Terrier and, one of my personal favorites, the Neopolitan Mastiff.

Our friend (and former Dallas Morning News pet-writing colleague) Aline McKenzie had a beloved Neopolitan Mastiff named Hoover. He was a big dog with a, well, with a very distinct countenance.

He was a showstopper. When he was being walked, drivers would pull over to yell, "What kinda dog is that?"

If the bones of his face had grown into all of his folds and wrinkles, the already giant dog would have been about 10-feet long from the back of his ears to the tip of his nose. The breed also possesses some good Slobber Spigots. When you get one, you ought to get a lifetime supply of towels.

But, beyond appearance, these dogs have wonderful personalities that triumph over "first impression."

I did a little reading about the Glen of Imaal Terrier and, according to Westminster, not only is this little dog a varmint hunter, but it was a "turnspit" dog meaning that back in the dog day, it was trained to walk on a paddle that turned meat on a spit over a fire. Now, folks, that is "specialty" training.

Of course, at our house, we have only two purebreds, both rescues. One is Glinda the Maltese, an ancient little dog who has no interest in shows, and Inky, an English cocker spaniel who loves getting groomed and is quite the foppish lad after he's been to the "salon." He has the English head and stocky body -- the sporting dog look, not the round head look of the American cockers. Yes, he has a certain intercontinental aloofness.

But it grinds his gizzard to think that he is not show quality: Someone bobbed his tail a little too short and his left eye has a shiny cataract that, his doc says, is probably the result of trauma at the early puppy stage. I found him in Kiest Park several years ago -- mange had left him with hair on only his left ear. He was nearly naked and so young that his voice hadn't changed. Someone had dumped him. Creeps.

Inky has risen above his sad beginnings to be an influential personality. He'll never be in a show, but, to use a dog show term, he knows how to "stack" when people are entranced by him -- and he thinks all people are.

Inky and his pal, Annie, belt out their rendition of “I’ve Got You Babe” in a lively performance at a nightspot called The Living Room Floor. There may not be a place in the show for Inky, but maybe there's a place in show business.