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Performing sleepers

No need to deny it. We all know what some of us are going to be up to on New Year's Eve.

That is why this photo has been selected for this weekend's spotlight in our feature "Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap."

You may look at this photo and say, "Wow. Big dogs sleeping."

But here's the reality:

This is an acting troupe, the Husky Players, formed just this year. The trio is into performance art.

And, yes, this is a skit called, "New Year's Booze Hounds." It's their impression of humans along about sunrise on New Year's Day. Note the faux comatose states with plenty of room between slumbering bodies.

I'm kidding, of course. These huskies are, from left, Arial, Harley and Iris. They bunk with Heather and Bryan Matson. And they sometimes enjoy a good nap in the big middle of whatever room they're in at the moment.

You may not recognize her in this photo, but if you're a regular reader of either Urban Animal Magazine or readlarrypowell.com, you've seen Iris before. That's her, in the foreground, flopped on her back, legs upright and locked in the "I'm-A-Sleeping-Dog" position. We first encountered her in a photo snapped in a local shelter -- she was known as "Pretty Girl" and was photographed cowering in the back of a city cage. (We featured these dogs in the November issue of Urban animal. If you missed it, you can go HERE and click on the previous issues button. Iris is in the Part of Our Family feature for November.)

People who bypass dogs may never know what they miss. But we can tell you that, in this case, anybody who bypassed the former "Pretty Girl" passed up a great friend and a sensational sleeper. Iris is a dog who is definitely going to have a happy new year with her buddies, Arial, Harley, Heather and Bryan.

As we say in Texas, y'all have a happy new year, too. And, if you get the chance, help make somebody else's year happy. We'll all be better off. It's a small planet. Take care of it and treasure its inhabitants.

EXPLANATION: Perhaps you've wondered just how I'm able to type such vibrant sentences, to take a tiny fact and stretch it into an entire paragraph, to glean one little tidbit from a conversation and develop it into an entire essay.

Never mind my mental state. Here is the secret. I have a ghost writer. That gray-haired, bespectacled gent is me and the sage individual in a semi-napping state on the back of the high-backed office chair is our tuxedo cat, Poirot. He'll periodically read over my shoulder and yowl off an opinion.

He's been with the firm quite some time now. My keeneyedspouse Martha got him from one of her clients years ago when she was a petsitter. He was a peaceful, perfectly behaved kitten.

He appeared to be sedate.

Poirot is fond of getting into high places and, when the male human in the house is relaxed and in a near-nap state, Poirot yells the feline equivalent of "Geronimo" and leaps from that great height into the breadbasket (or worse) of the unsuspecting human with the inadequate "brace yourself" reflexes. He seems to find great glee in this.

Of course, he has his sweet moments, too. And he enjoys being petted while in a state of absolute collapse in my arms.

He's like everyone else in the world. He's working on a book. And, basically, he's on the back of my chair to sort of hurry me along so he can get busy honing the next chapter of "The Cat Leaps At Midnight." It begins, "Without wings, there is no delicate way to end a four-foot leap. It can, however, be punctuated by an intense scream that drowns out the midnight chimes."

Well, he's just starting -- still looking for an agent.

(To nominate a dog, cat or any other sleeping creature for spotlighting in our world-wide presentation Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap, e-mail the info and a photo to [email protected]. Anyone is eligible -- even your deadbeat relative who's been mooching off of you since his surprise arrival on Christmas Eve.)

As the year closes...

OK, the New Year is approaching. If you live in Dallas, it's time to bring the animals inside and put the cars in the garage. Fireworks and bullets, you know. Now, we'll get back to that urban crisis in a moment, but first we have some things to address.

MACY'S JOURNEY: Back on Dec. 20 on readlarrypowell.com you saw a photo of a little white dog named Macy who'd vanished at DFW Airport -- she'd somehow just slipped out of the car in the Terminal D parking garage.

Her journey back to her home near Washington, D.C., is nearly over -- the details of her recent travels and travails are known only to her.  (That's Macy in a pre-vanishing photo -- she's in someone's lap at a table...your basic "good dog" pose.)

Macy's currently at a Richardson vet's office and is "eating and drinking" and being treated for a paw injury, reports her "grandpa," Bill Brown.

(Yes, that's THE Bill Brown, the top-of-the-line, award-winning veteran journalist formerly with WFAA-TV, Channel 8, in Dallas. Click HERE. Bill and I worked across the alley from each other for the same company for decades. He was electronic, I was print -- we shared a parking lot. We both went into "retirement" in October 2004 thanks to our employer's decision to whack a big portion of its loyal employees.)

Those of you who remember Bill's reports from not only our own Texas backyards but from war zones around the world, will be happy to know he's doing great. He's doing even greater today because his "granddog" is back in the family.

The big challenge now is getting a healthy Macy back to her family in suburban Washington, D.C., where Bill's son-in-law, Drew Davis, is with the State Department.

Our original contact in the Macy story was with Drew -- we didn't realize he was Bill's son-in-law until today when I called a phone number to check on the Macy story. It's one of your "small-world-ain't-it" situations when the voice on the other end of the phone has a familiar timbre and you reach for the mute button on your TV, then realize the voice is coming out of your phone.

Of course, Macy had been out in the "big world." Where exactly, only she knows.

Drew spent his Christmas vacation in Dallas papering the area with flyers about Macy's disappearance. One of those found its way into the Fort Worth Animal Control office and someone there recognized Macy when she was brought in after being missing for a dozen days. All Macy's family really knows about the recovery is that she wasn't found at the airport.

We may have to get the rest of the story from Macy and she's just not talking!

Her right rear paw suffered some sort of trauma. No idea how she was injured. But it was obvious that this formerly well-groomed dog had been through some rough times. She's back in loving arms now.

As Bill says, the family is "thrilled" to get her back.

The story is a lesson in determination. It's the same sermon Joe Cranford of Find-a-Pet preaches: Keep looking, put up flyers, visit shelters and get as many eyes as possible to be on the lookout.

And, it's good to know that around here there are plenty of eyes willing to help look for our friends when they're in trouble. You folks are the best.

A SAD, ALL-TOO-HUMAN NOTE: It is always such a surprise when we are reminded that we are mortal.

Word came from Jonnie England of Operation Kindness yesterday about the death of Charlie Seay Jr., "a wonderful friend to Operation Kindness and animals everywhere."

He'd beaten cancer twice before, Jonnie says, but the latest round, discovered just about a month ago, was too much.

His parents are Sadie and Charlie Seay, longtime supporters of the no-kill shelter.

Jonnie wrote, "Like his parents, Charlie had a great compassion for homeless animals. He was well known at Dallas Country Club as the guy who fed the stray cats. He rescued any dogs that crossed his path...." He also served on the Operation Kindness advisory board and was a trustee of the Scottish Rite Hospital for Children.

He's survived by his parents, his son, Michael, and (I'm using Jonnie's words here) "his two beloved dogs, Susie and Snow, and a multitude of friends and animals who mourn his loss."

WAS FACING DEATH IN ROANOKE: A few minutes ago (around 11 a.m. Dallas time), I got an e-mail from Christy Storaska about this situation -- the clock was ticking way down on this dog.

"I have had an overwhelming response to this poor guy and we now have the money for his vet care and a foster home for him to go to!  Great news!!" she wrote.

We'll get a complete update later, but for now, the good news is the dog is saved.

This injured dog -- look at that the hope in that face -- needed some help.

He was picked up by animal control in Roanoke, according to a note from Gail Whelan of Companion Animal Network.

Unless someone stepped up to help him, she wrote, "This dog will be euthanized Friday night. We just learned of his plight (Thursday) and are trying to find a foster home for him. We have spoken with the animal control officer who confirms that this dog is amazingly sweet. He is obviously in pain, but has been nothing but appreciative since they bought him in."

Christy, whose initial note was forwarded by Cary Birdwell, reported, "Someone found him in between their house and their neighbors' and called animal control after watching him suffer there for four hours. .... I am desperate to find him some help..."

The dog may have been struck by a car, or suffered some other trauma, Everything seems to be working, though the dog is not up and walking.

Gail says he "already has pledges totaling $500 toward his medical needs."

Get in touch with Companion Animal Network by e-mailing mailto:[email protected]

We'll keep you posted.

HAPPY NEW YEAR; STRAP ON YOUR HELMETS: Idiots are among us.

West of Dallas, everybody's worried about fire -- in Dallas, we worry about gunfire.

To the west, warm and dry conditions mixed with pinheads can ignite, as we saw this week. But in Dallas, well, yeah, there may be a threat of fire. Light the fuses, load the pistols.

On New Year's Eve, people will shoot fireworks. But if the cops aren't going to respond to burglar alarms any more, do you really think they'll show up when somebody sets off a bottle rocket? (Gee, thanks, chief.)

Wait until New Year's Eve.  Sometimes it's not the fireworks, it's the fire -- the gunfire.

The bullets start flying just before midnight and keep going until people are out of ammo. You may not be able to pay your bills on time or put gas in the car, but there's always money for munitions.

If all goes as usual, along about midnight in some neighborhoods, it'll sound like a re-enactment of the Bonnie & Clyde ambush. I'm not saying it's safer in Baghdad, but it's probably quieter.

Meanwhile, what about the wound to your savings accounts? Did you gag on your gas bill? Does the term "post-hurricane gouge" come to mind?

Ah, but, if it heats up a little, you'll hear the cheers and shouts as people all over town click their air-conditioners on and make life better for electric company executives whereever they are vacationing this winter.

You may stand only a 50-50 chance of being shot on New Year's Eve in Dallas, but you have a 100 percent chance of being maimed by a utility bill. Texas energy companies are about the only "utilities" that make the cable TV people look good.

Showbiz and critters

Oh, my, our 2005 days are dwindling -- has a year ever gone both faster and slower? Faster for most of us, slower for people on the Gulf Coast.

Unforgettable, they'll say. Yep, we'll agree.

And while we all remember the big things, each of us will have our own palette of memories. Could be a particularly nice day, a quick road trip, a moment when someone was kind, the day you realized your dog was starring at you because you'd put your pants on inside-out. Don't tell me you've never been fooled by a pair of pocketless sweatpants in a dark room. Could be the day your cat realized technology and the pull-tab lid had made can openers obsolete in your house.

Well, as you consider the "moments" of 2005, read on. We're going to mention a chance to help animals by sitting on your can and laughing.

This striking photo is an example of what you'll see during the run of Mind Over Murder!, a "living black-and-white" murder mystery, at the Eisemann Center Theatre in Richardson. The play is in black-and-white -- The Lady in Red emerges to show the audience the amazing contrast and, perhaps, to help their eyes readjust!

The Jan. 5, opening night show benefits the Companion Animal Network. (For the $25 tickets, call 972-744-4650 or click HERE.

Playwright/actor Kurt Kleinmann stars as intrepid detective Harry Hunsacker. He'll be attempting to solve the murder of the famous magician Marko the Magnificent. As you can see from this photo, the stage is designed to reflect the black-and-white mystery movies most of you caught on TV as a child, but some of us actually saw in theaters when we were kids.

It is delightful to know that theater people are working to help dogs and cats. Having been involved with both worlds for years, I can tell you that old actors and old critters have a lot in common: Their warm responses to both praise and a nice place to nap being at the top of the list.

FROM FRIENDS OF THE ANIMALS: Sydney Busch of Friends of the Animals, the Cedar Creek Lake-area spay/neuter program, e-mails word of a couple of animals.

One is this big dog Lucy, described as a "beautiful St. Bernard mix" who needs a home. "She was rescued by a family last summer when she was just a 5-month-old puppy but the family is moving to New Orleans to work with FEMA and they cannot take this dog."

Lucy looks like a dog that would add grace to any home. (Call Dorothy at 903-432-3380 or 903-275-9470.)

Also, a year-and-a-half-old black Chihuahua named Jenny is about to lose her home because her human is "going out of the country to work for two years" and can't take her with him. The number to call to help Jenny is 903-451-5460.

COLLEGE BOY: Veteran rescuer and the guru of canine assessment Cary Birdwell has found another dog with a "history."

This one has a short history, however. A woman in Garland in trying to place this dog, he reports. "Her 17-year-old son brought him back home from college for the holidays. They have decided that now is not the best time for him to own a puppy and they are trying to re-home him immediately ."

(Larry's aside: "Re-home him" refers to the dog, though, it has been my experience that 17-year-old boys sometimes would benefit from re-homing and if they didn't, sometimes the parents will.)

At any rate, Duke is 4 months old and needs to be fixed. Here's his MFT -- I've just created this expression. MFT is "Maybe Family Tree." He's "maybe" a mix of Doberman, Staffordshire Terrier, Rottweiler and Black-and-Tan Coonhound. This would be what we call a "thorough mix."

The family is trying to get him placed by Jan.17. (Call 214-521-3611 or 214-580-7132 or e-mail [email protected] or [email protected].

Just look at this photo. Doesn't Duke look like he's a guy who'd help anybody live a better life? Heck, he's already been to college.

Lord knows he looks a lot brighter than I did in my freshman year. He probably is a lot brighter than I was.

In my defense, I was having trouble sleeping. It was so long ago that I don't remember much about those 8 a.m. classes except that after one semester of that torture I swore I'd never do that again. Seriously, who in his right mind could face an 8 a.m. class about cutting edge technology such as fire and the wheel?

Math and mutts

It's apparently a slow news week out there in the real world. One of the big stories is that a genius guy has solved a math problem that was 40 years old.

Hah. I've got some fractions problems left over from the fifth grade that I have yet to solve and -- if my math is correct -- that was 47 years ago.

Fractions taught me a new letter in the alphabet: "F."

My first fractions test, my first F. Actually, my last "F", too, though I did managed a "D" or two in Latin. But, it was fifth grade fractions that showed us all that little Larry was not going to be a rocket scientist.

My poor teacher went to her grave dreadfully frustrated that she was unable to get the concept of fractions across to a kid who looked at a pie and could never understand why you'd want to cut it into pieces when you could just grab a fork and dig in. But that's a psychological problem and we can't even touch a fraction of that situation today.

I later caught onto fractions and now I'm mathematically positive at least 16/9.5ths of the time.

LOOKING FOR CAMILLE: On Christmas Eve, Camille the Yellow Lab somehow slipped out of her home in the 3300 block of Green Glen Circle in Carrollton.

Abbigail McCutchin told me this morning that her dog is not only missing but is missed. She nearly broke down and cried.

Camille is described as a "sweet, friendly dog but shy around strangers. She shakes when first approached but will not run away if called...Camille is not wearing a collar or tags."

Yep, always expect the unexpected with dogs. They're just too clever for their own good.

(Don't they always want "out" or "in." Reminds me of the Ogden Nash quote: "A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.")

The area Camille was last seen in is bound by Rosemeade Parkway on the West and North, W. Frankford on the South and Old Denton Road on the East.

Abbigail is desperate to get her dog back. She's been going to shelters and canvassing the neighborhood. (If you've seen Camille or know where she is, call 972-395-3282 -- there's no answering machine on that number, so if no one answers, call Animal Angels at 940-567-3252 office or 817-271-1048. You could also e-mail [email protected]. Also, contact Joe Cranford at Find-a-Pet, the free, non-profit lost pet/lost human service, at 214-827-4357. Joe's on the case, too.)

Abbigail has also posted signs and is re-posting today because the winds have whipped many of them down.

LITTLE PUPS IN NEED: As you may suspect, this website is partial to not just big dogs and medium dogs, but small dogs, too. Yes, all dogs. All dogs need homes. They have so much to give to people and people shouldn't let the offer go to waste.

Now, from Gail Whelan at Companion Animal Network, we find three small dogs in need of homes -- either permanent or foster.

First is Hollis, a 15-pound "Terri-Poo" -- I think that's a "terrier/poodle" mix, but it could be a "terrific-pooh-pooh-baby," a not-yet-recognized breed with happy characteristics of many lines and the darling nature of your favorite aunt or uncle. Anyway, this glorious dog did once have sarcoptic mange, but as you can see is magnificently on the road to a hairy recovery. He's a little over a year old.

The second dog is "Unnamed Female" -- a 12- to 18-pound young adult currently held in a kill shelter. So, someone one needs to get this dog and give her a name -- like, right now. The indignity of going through life as "Unnamed Female." Geez.

And the third dog is Rupert, a 10-pound "male scruffy mix." Ah, some day Westminster will have a "Scruffy" category, then we'll see some competition! Anyway, Rupert's about a year old and also currently in a kill shelter.

Companion Animal Network is trying to save these lives and enhance the lives of humans by placing the dogs. (If you can help, e-mail [email protected]. Visit www.ca-n.petfinder.com.)

Good golly, I just never will understand how such swell dogs wind up in such dire straits.

I don't understand that about people, either, but, at least people can phone for help, or go get a job and bail themselves out of jam. These dogs and cats, well, they trust us. I guess that puts them into quite a fix sometimes, sad to say.

THE DALHART DAWGS MATTER: Our buddies Deanna and Jim, longtime rescue types and big hearts, have been monitoring this situation out in Dalhart where the city wants to get rid of DAWGS (Dalhart Animal Wellness Group And Shelter),  a no-kill facility it helped set up. There's literature and video on this crisis -- the big flap involves the fate of hundreds of dogs currently living at a no-kill shelter that is facing eviction because, according to the stories, it's just too loud and in the wrong spot. You can catch up on this by clicking HERE . The famous Geraldo Rivera has even gotten involved. See his report by clicking HERE.

This DAWGS thing is falling into the category of "no good deed goes unpunished." But, at least, Dalhart didn't evict them first and try to explain it later. After all, it's Dalhart, not Dallas.

Showers and kayaks...

It is December 27, 2005, and, as the year draws to a close, boy, is it dry.

Or, should that be "boy, hidy"? Sometimes one loses the grip on one's native slang.

Speaking of losing a grip. In the land of post-Christmas shopping, an e-mail arrived overnight. It contained a "special offer" for a shower radio--marked down to $34.98 from $69.95.

That is a generous mark-down. Makes you wonder what the "mark-up" was during the season of joy.

The item is marketed as a "Shower Radio Alarm Clock." Yes, it is a shower radio alarm clock. A radio for your shower, I can understand. An alarm clock in the shower?

This device is just one step away from "Table Saw Alarm Clock," in case you find yourself lulled to sleep by the sound of sawing logs.

We don't need a shower alarm clock at our house, anyway. We have a cocker spaniel who goes off at the first thought of a toasty morning Pop Tart. Yes, I have thought about putting him in the shower. His snooze alarm is a tuxedo cat outfitted with the insistence chip option. "MEOW. I must insist that you awaken NOW. MEOW. I must insist that you awaken NOW."

Back to the rain: There is a website that catalogues "drought" conditions in Texas. It's http://agnews.tamu.edu/drought/. Alas, it does not address showering with an alarm clock.

Perhaps if we all sang shorter songs in the shower, we'd be able to cut down on water usage.

WILD LIFE AT THE HOP: Last week, as the reindeer approached, we had a bit of an Easter situation. A reader wrote, "My friend has a displaced bunny that has decided to live under his swimming pool deck. We fear the bunny may soon be Momma Bunny."

Well, of course, bunnies can breed like rabbits....

Continuing with the note: "Although the former field bunny can be termed 'wild,' she (?) is getting used to seeing humans. Please direct me to an organization that will either trap or teach us how to trap this little fur ball before there are many more fur balls ..."

We sent this reader toward the website for the DFW Wildlife Coalition (www.dfwwildlife.org.) We'll let you know as soon as we hear The Fate of the Bunny.

BACK TO THE RIVER: On Christmas night, my hollyjollyspouse and I were driving back through downtown toward our home in Oak Cliff. This required crossing the Trinity River on the I-35/U.S. 67 southbound bridge.

It also nearly required an oxygen mask. There was a non-too-holiday stench rising from the riverbed.

I don't know what material Dallas will use to build that new fancy Calatrava bridge, but I sure hope it's got a space-age protective coating and there's a big budget for paint maintenance. The Christmas Night Stench was stout enough to peel the paint off my pickup. And, you know, it's not like that's the only night of the year that the river stinks.

Do the river project people expect parents to bring their kids downtown to play beside a river that would gag a maggot?

Instead of spending billions on dressing up this pig, why don't we just shut it down and re-route it around Dallas? Heck, it’s been re-routed around Dallas once already -- that’s how it wound up where it is now. Years ago the river was moved about a quarter-mile west so it wouldn’t keep flooding downtown Dallas. Honest. You can look it up. (A good starting place is the Handbook of Texas -- click HERE .)

If I recall correctly, plans are to have a big-time expressway running alongside the river. Between the traffic pollution and the river stench, there should be no shortage of projects for post-grad environmental students examining the Trinity River Bottoms Park & Gag Greenbelt.

You can check out the Trinity River plans at www.trinityrivercorridor.org. My favorite part is the White Water Park proposal -- you know, like a racetrack for kayaks.

Maybe they can fund all this stuff with casino boats. Welcome to the Big D Money Barge!. Here are your chips and your complimentary gas mask.

Kids and Goats

It is difficult to believe that this is the day after Christmas 2005. But, we'll face up to the reality of just 364 shopping days left and move on.

Today's posting at this site will be limited not necessarily by content but by energy. We were around a lot of children on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, thus we are tired -- and, of course, wondering if any of them were bearing diseases.

A teacher who was trying to get his school board to give his colleagues a raise, once told me, "We take a lot of risks. Children are notorious carriers of disease."

In this case, I refer specifically to my sons, the aging twins, Bret and Bart, now 34, and enjoying their traditional head-stuffing winter colds.

On Christmas Eve, we had a dynamic visit with Martha's exquisite sister, Donna, and my brother-in-law James, a prince of a fellow who in the middle of a long, spirited, multi-voiced conversation leaned over to me and said, "Now you know why I've been so quiet all these years."

We got to see not just nieces Jamie and Tiffany and nephew Jeremy (in from Florida), but Tiffany's husband Mark Speakman, on leave from infantry duty in Iraq. He's tall, skinny and, from my vantage point, looks likes he's too young to date without a chaperone -- he spends his military time on patrol in a Humvee and looking for roadside bombs and bad guys. He's on his second tour. Mark got to come home for a short Christmas leave so he could see his newborn daughter, month-old Alexis Hope (and, of course, her big brother, Tyler, who sports the same haircut as Mark. Solidarity, you know).

As for Christmas Day, longtime readers will be happy to know that Calamity (the dog pictured in the upper left corner of this page) did well with the children who were at the Yuletide Staging area. The kids and the dog had limited access to each other in the home of my sister-in-law Brenita and her husband (my brother) Garry.

Brenita and Calamity always show infinite patience with everyone -- they deal year-round with Garry. Practice makes patience, I guess.

Just 2 years ago, Calamity was a skittish you-can't-catch-me-stray and now she's a wonderful companion for my brother and his wife and their cats. Only one cat ventured out of their cozy "safe-room" -- Miss Brindle snuck into the dining room and observed the children from afar.

The grandkids -- Hannah Rose, 4; Emily Grace, 3; and Connor, 2 -- were there with their dad, Bart, who is extraordinarily patient, a much better father than I was. There's a term "Irish twins" for two babies born a year or so apart. Bart has Irish Triplets. Mercifully, they're well behaved.

Bret, who is called "Uncle Buck" (after the John Candy character) by his nieces and nephew, got a football for Christmas and insisted on playing catch with his old man.

This is being typed with my left hand today. My throwing arm fell off early this morning. I can still zing the pigskin in a spiral -- I just should know better.

Our daughter-in-law Andrea led us in a game of Cranium, which, I'm proud to say, the team of Martha and Larry won. You may not be familiar with the game, but let me say one of the high points of the scoring was Martha's impression of Eddie Murphy doing his "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" skit from Saturday Night Live. Board games bring out the unexpected in Martha. She's never before done an Eddie Murphy impression -- that I am aware of.

And Andrea was telling us about the morning drive from Longview to Branch, where Garry lives. It's all back roads, you know. At one point, she saw a pickup with a Saint Bernard in the back. Only moderately unusual. But the St. Bernard was wearing a bright green sweater.

Then, she says, as they drove through a rural area Christmas morning she spotted, standing on the shoulder of the road as if he were thumbing a ride, a curly-horned goat. Yes, I explained, "That was the Goat of Christmas Past."

Egg shell seas, dogs and cats

We're here at Christmas Eve 2005. But I don't need to tell you that.

Besides, I don't even know which holiday you're celebrating -- or if you're celebrating a holiday at all.

Whatever you're doing, all of us at readlarrypowell.com wish you the best.

Our family has a big load of diversity -- we've got some that embrace the Baby Jesus and we've got some who marvel at the Festival of Lights. And, we may even have some who celebrate the generous increase of the credit limits on their well-worn plastic. This is their time of year, too.

Takes all kinds, you know.

Our "Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap" feature is being expanded a little this weekend to include what can only be described as a Christmas miracle. Or at least a longshot. Before we get to the Tale of the Cat, here are a couple of other things:

Some of you may have tykes who are interested in Santa's activities. There's a countdown clock at www.christmassantaclaus.com/clock.asp and you can study Santa's history and track his flight at www.noradsanta.org.

The big black dog with the tinsel is Hambone Jack, our lab/dane mix -- a Labradane? Martha caught him lounging and wrapped him up -- this might not have been his favorite part of the Christmas season. I think he really enjoyed going to Cedar Hill to hear the carolers at the Cedar Hill Christmas tree across from Sam's Pasta and Pizza (He also liked the pizza crust we brought to him and Baby Jane, our big black shepherd mix, a genuine pizza hound.)

When we think of "visions of sugarplums," the photo of our big orange and white cat Griffin comes to mind. That's him sleeping on the arm of the couch. He takes up more room than the cocker spaniel. Seriously, he's one big rascal.

And that "mood photo" with the artistic blur, is probably what Santa can expect to see when he comes tiptoeing into the living room later Christmas Eve. The little tree will be lit in the corner, the TV will probably still be on because one of us went to sleep in the recliner and Annie the Puppy, celebrating her 2nd Christmas, will be stretched out across the floor. Annie is interested in what Santa will deliver only if it's on her diet and so far we haven't found anything that isn't on her diet.

THE CAT MIRACLE: Last week our pet-sitting buddy Jeneva O'Connor of N-Trust-Ur-Pet sent out a call for help. She'd found an ancient, pretty, gray and white cat in the middle of a Dallas street. Naturally, everybody thought the odds were bad that someone would respond to the "Found Cat" signs or e-mails.

On Friday, we got a message from Jeneva. She says, "Amazingly, I received a call today and the owners of 'Smokey' were overjoyed to be reunited. It seems that they were leaving and returning from work when it was dark so they had not seen my signs. They were off today and their daughter mentioned it as they passed one.

"Smokey had only recently started losing his sight and had always stayed in the yard. They did not know the extend of his blindness. he was actually right near his home.

"They thought he had gotten lost and died in the recent cold spell."

It turns out that Smokey is 16 years old and beloved. "I don't think he will ever be outside again," Jeneva says.

JUST PONDERING THE DAY: If you're traveling, travel safely. If you're staying home, be safe there. If you don't know what you're going to do, simply enjoy the Christmas weekend and try not to think about how the Dallas Cowboys offense is like lumps of coal.

This is always a big time for memories for most of us. Family-type memories. Hectic stuff.

I remember that for many years I made 200-mile road trips back to Northeast Texas for Christmas. Because of my work schedule, I usually traveled after midnight on the back roads through places such as Mount Pleasant, Naples, Omaha, New Boston, Hooks, etc. Little towns with their Christmas lights all aglow deep into the night.

From the highway you could see little homes brightly lit and imagine hopeful kids trying to sleep while awaiting the sound of reindeer hooves on the asphalt shingles.

You could see, once you were away from the big city lights, a panorama of stars. And there was always a star that was brighter than the others. I'd drive along and try to find a radio station that wasn't playing carols -- tough to do after midnight between Christmas Eve and Christmas Morn.

That star might just ease your thoughts away from Jolly Ol' Saint Nick to a baby in a manger. And, honestly, that extra-bright star might inspire a fellow to try to remember the Christmas Story according to the Gospel of Luke.

Bits and pieces of it would pop into the ol' brain. But, inevitably my reminiscing would reach back to the memory of attempting to sing in the youth choir, especially the "Christmas Cantata." It was usually on the Sunday night before Christmas at Highland Park Baptist Church in Texarkana.

We got to wear the blue robes with the silver sashes. The "Youth Robes." The adult choir had purple robes with gold sashes. That was about as fancy as things got in a 1950s-60s-era Southern Baptist Church.

After rehearsals, the ladies of the church fed the youth -- we'd get tuna sandwiches and such. You learned whose mom put pecans in the tuna salad and whose mom didn't.

And I remember learning to pronounced a Latin passage in the song Angels We Have Heard on High. This was tough for Baptist kids. We'd all avoided Latin in church because the Catholics used it and, in those days, the Baptists and the Catholics didn't do anything alike if they could help it. Sometimes, in my dotage, I've theorized that most Baptists are closet Catholics, anyway...not really ready to embrace the Pope and his iron hand, but they might not mind having some nuns and a few kindly old padres around.

It seems to me, also, that back in my teen years, if a guy had showed up at church with a guitar, he'd have been flogged. A piano, organ or the autoharp were the only authorized instruments to accompany the slow, nearly mournful hymns. If anybody tried an up-tempo song, they might just find themselves "churched."

But those are just impressions of an aging man looking back across the decades. I watch TV -- I know Baptist churches have changed.

I can remember clearly, though, that one of our youth choir girls, Loretta, was a Latin III student in high school. That made her nearly a Roman compared to the rest of us. We barely spoke English -- we were more interested in speaking surfer, dude. But back to the Christmas cantata.

We were having trouble with a passage in Angels We Have Heard on High. It's the part that goes "Gloria in excelsis Deo!" The first 10 or 20 times through we sang it 10 or 20 different ways, perplexing the music director.

Finally, Loretta put her hand up and volunteered to teach us to sing "Gloria in egg shell seas day oh."

So, sometimes when I think of Christmas, I think of Egg Shell Seas.

Yep, Christmas is a time for memories. Pick out the good ones and enjoy them.

Mariah to Montague & a Stolen Dog

DOG TAKEN FROM PICKUP MISSING: Ray Jones is desperate today. He's been upset since Dec. 14 when someone broke into his truck and either took his Chihuahua pal Tipper or let the dog go into busy holiday traffic.

This happened in the Big Lots parking lot at Forest and Marsh, Ray says. He was, as usual, traveling with his constant companion Tipper, a 7-pound tan Chihuahua. "He's all I've got in the world," Ray says, his voice cracking from the heartbreak.

Ray says that day he went into the store, did a few minutes of shopping for gift bags and card, then came out. As he approached the truck he did what he'd done so many times over the past 2 1/2 years. He says, "I came back out and hollered 'Scoot over' so he'd get out of my seat and into the passenger seat. When I opened the door, he wasn't there."

Thinking he might have left the window "too open," and Tipper went through it, Ray drove around the lot -- "He knows the sound of my engine," Ray says. And Ray talked to a security guard who said he thought he might have seen a dog on the parking lot and maybe it had been picked up by someone in a car. But that was all "might have" and not very solid info.

Ray, who lives in nearby Carrollton and has his own "handyman" business, says it was not until he got home that he realized some items were missing from his truck. "They must have thought they hit the jackpot," he says, "but all they got was some candles and stuff I'd bought as little gifts."

Ray has returned to the parking lot every day since then to search for his dog. He has also contacted Joe Cranford at Find-a-Pet, the free, non-profit pet search agency (www.find-a-pet.org). And Joe has given him all the usual tips for trying to find a lost or stolen pet. So, Ray's following through on that. Making calls, putting up signs, etc.

So, if you know the whereabouts of Tipper, who was wearing a collar and tag, call Ray at 972-983-3317. Or get in touch with Find-A-Pet at 214-827-4357.

In my many years of writing about animals, I've seen quite a few of these stories of animals stolen out of cars while people "ran into a store." We're all just "prey" to these thieves. Decent people have to alter their lives because indecent people won't change their behavior. The jerks of the world are heartless. Don't just love your pet, protect your pet, too.

And keep your eyes open for Tipper the Chihuahua. He needs to be home for Christmas.

SEASONAL POSES: Before continuing, here are a couple of pictures that arrived in the in-box and seem to speak to the joy of the season, if not to the joy of the dogs. Aren’t they spectactular?

The Yulebulldog was sent to us by Kelly Andrus of Lone Star Bulldog Rescue . The bulldog is Annabelle and her human is Gala Akins, a volunteer with the rescue group. Gala’s planning on entering this photo in “next year’s Rescue Christmas Card Contest,” Kelly says.

Annabelle is 2 but is small for a bulldog, weighing in at only 31 pounds. She is, Kelly says, “a little angel.”

The older Chihuahua gentleman was once featured on readlarrypowell.com as a rescued dog who needed a home.

Kim Polen of Treasured Friends  searched and searched and found one. Her home.

So, this is Ivan’s 2005 Christmas photo. He is, Kim writes, “all decked out for the holiays, including a collar of lights.... Thank you Auntie Kit (Tidwell) for my new jacket. As you can see, it’s a perfect fit.”

It seemed to me that these two Christmas photos might be a good way to enhance the holly jolliness of the season. And, maybe, we might be a little jealous of the outfits or the way the Annabelle works the camera...

MARIAH'S HIGH NOTE: I read on my handy AOL news log that "Mariah ties Elvis with 17th No. 1 single."

OK, hum one Mariah Carey song. I can’t.

Maybe I just don't know how to listen to music radio anymore. I’m pretty sure I don’t know anyone who has a Mariah Carey album -- but, I also don’t know anyone who has an I-Pod. Back in the day, you know, we had to make an effort to go buy somebody’s record -- you couldn’t just sit at your computer and download it.

On the other hand, I also read yesterday that some Russian businessman tried to give 8 fur coats to Ms. Carey and she, being an animal lover, said nope.

This reminds me of a line from the 1945 movie, Christmas in Connecticut. Barbara Stanwyck is thinking aloud about a fur coat when character actor S.Z. “Cuddles” Sakall replies, “Nobody needs a mink coat but the mink.”

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO HUG THE DOG: Jonnie England of Operation Kindness sends us this photo of a familiar fellow hugging a big ol' dawg.

The dog with the soulful eyes is Lulu, formerly a rescue known as Mary Lou, pulled from beneath a crackhouse and facing many health problems.

As you can see, the healthy Lulu is in excellent standing with Mr. Santa Claus.

Thus, she is our featured subject for Friday's Christmas photo. (For the purposes of this photo, one may identify the gentleman in red as either the legendary Santa Claus or the legendary Russ Martin, American radio's biggest animal nut and the enduring, top-rated host of his own show at 105.3, KLLI-FM. He's also a member of the Operation Kindness advisory board.)

Isn't it great to know that a dog can be pulled from beneath a crackhouse, then wind up sitting in Santa's lap for the sake of charity?

Coming up in the near future, Urban Animal magazine will profile Lulu with the help of her human, Jeanette Johnson.

Meanwhile, we'll move along with today's topics and try to keep in mind that we're really close to Christmas Eve and a lot of folks are taking Friday off to shop. Be careful out there. Be kind to animals. Be kind to your fellow shopper and be kind to merchants. We're all in this together.

NEEDING A HOME: Here's a heartbreaking story that needs some help to achieve a comforting solution. Gail Whelan of Companion Animal Network sends this note: "We are assisting a family in need. The owner of two beautiful, purebred German Shepherds (with papers) has fallen ill and can no longer care for these dogs."

Things are pretty tough for the owner and the dogs will need a good permanent home.

Visitors found that the dogs are "not only beautiful, but they are sweet. Having never seen us before, they were joyous at the opportunity of being petted and hugged. They showed no fearfulness -- only happy smiles that someone was there to pet them. "Bridgett is the mother of Hans. We have not yet seen the papers, so we don't know her exact age, but she is young. Hans is her puppy and he is 9 months old."

To help give a good home to these dogs, e-mail [email protected]. Gail's note says, "We do not believe these dogs have to be adopted out together, although we would much prefer it. ... They have been living in the backyard on their own for quite a while now. Thanks to the generosity of a good friend and neighbor, they are well-fed and have someone to play with them a while each day."

MONTAGUE STILL AVAILABLE: A few weeks ago we mentioned this tuxedo cat, Montague, outlined his hard-luck story, how he was rescued by a couple who found him "hanging around their house."

Cary Birdwell was trying to line up a permanent place for the guy and DFW Humane Society took him in. He's still looking for a home. You can check out Montague at www.dfwhumane.com and see other cats and lots of dogs, too. (To audition to adopt Montague, call 972-253-3333 or e-mail [email protected].)

As regular readers may know, at our house tuxedo cats have our full endorsement. We have one. Poirot. He's nuts. He's nuts unlike any other cat we've ever had. And we've had a few.

In fact, one of Martha's first cats was a rotund tuxedo named Cyril. He was nuts unlike Poirot. Our beloved Cyril didn't walk through a room. He clawed through a room. With every step you could hear him ripping his claws out of the carpet -- as if he were imagining himself on a spacewalk while wearing magnetic boots. Heck, he may have come from outer space.

So, when you look at this photo of the magnificently mustachioed Montague, try not to resist the urge to give him a good home. He's not just a cat. He's an adventure.

Chip, Buddy and Charity

Is there such a thing as a "shopping helmet?"

Well, so much for practical seasonal questions.

TODAY'S YULETIDE PHOTO: This picture of a handsome reindeer -- wait, that's no reindeer. OK, start over. This photo is of a handsome Greyhound pretending to be a reindeer.

And he has a history of such disguises.

The photo comes courtesy of Carole and Michael Clark and the dog is a greyhound named Chip R. Doodle. (Michael took the photo of the oh-so-willing model.)

Chip was adopted from the Greyhound Adoption League of Texas in 2004 and, Carole says, "is one of the happiest, goofiest sweeties I've ever met. He's so laid back an friendly, I'm convinced he's actually a black lab in a witness protection program."

Chip also is featured on the Greyhound Adoption League's 2006 calendar, Carole says. Check out the GALT website at www.greyhoundadoptiontx.org. As of this morning, the rescue league had just FIVE calendars left.

Of course, they have more than FIVE greyhounds left. Click to the site and you can see many of these easy-going "retired athletes."

If you look directly into their soulful eyes, you may just find yourself under the thrall of dog who may have once been fast on a track but now shows his top speed when going from the floor to the couch for a nap.

BIG DOG NEEDS A HOME: This big fellow is Buddy, the Weimeraner/Lab mix. Here's his story courtesy of Cary Birdwell and Michelle Mitchell.

Michelle describes Buddy as "slate gray with the biggest chocolate soulful eyes."

He's three and needs heartworm treatment, but it's already paid for because enough donations came in when Buddy and his sister Baby were found "abandoned in a truck yard in early November near Dallas."

His sister was social and outgoing, so she's in a foster home.

Buddy is the less-trusting dog. He's currently boarded at a vet's. While this isn't such a bad deal for a dog abandoned at a truck yard, it isn't the best of conditions for a dog that needs to be socialized so he can live happily in a good home.

On a recent visit, Michelle writes, "He seemed very depressed to the point that I left sick to my stomach."

To help Buddy by giving him a foster home or a permanent home, call 214-728-7449 or e-mail [email protected].

This gives me another opportunity (and there are plenty of them around her) to sermonize about big ol' dawgs. You can't beat 'em for companions. They're usually great at riding shotgun with you. They love being petted. If you want to sit and watch TV, they're with you. And when you get them after they're through the puppy stage, they're usually so mannerly that you start to think things like "I wish the movies would let my dawg in -- he loves George Clooney."

Seriously, I think the term "top dog" was coined in honor of a big ol' dawg like Buddy.

THINKING AHEAD: Gail Whelan of Companion Animal Network sent out a little note yesterday. It had some news and a reminder. "We have been fortunate to have re-homed over 100 dogs this year. While most of our dogs still come from municipal shelters, we have been more involved with both terminally-ill patients and seniors going into assisted living centers or convalescent homes. This is a most rewarding project."

That is the good news. Here's the reminder (and, let me point out that it's the sort of reminder all those non-profits hope you'll recall as the year draws to an end).

Gail writes, "Just a reminder that Companion Animal Network is a 501c3 organization and all donations are fully tax deductible and that all funds go directly to veterinary care." (Visit Companion Animal Network by clicking HERE.)

As you readers probably know, all your friends in rescue spend the entire year raising money and helping animals in dire conditions.

This sort of two-pronged intense effort may be what leads to what's known as "compassion fatigue." When you couple just the routine stuff with such unexpected burdens as hurricane rescue, you can see how overwhelming things can get.

After the way 2005 went, we have to hope that all of you shelters and rescue groups win the lottery or find a zillionaire who loves you. And may all of you people who work so hard at this rescue mission realize how much you are appreciated.

You make dogs wag their tails, cats purr, ferrets frolic, potbellied pigs snort with glee, etc. And by doing so, you improve the lives of humans, too. Don't forget that.

You know, it's been my observation that animal nuts are often people nuts, too. 

And, of course, some of us are just plain nuts.

Sounds and sensations

Our topics today will range from wrapping to critters to the great voice of Oak Cliff's own Lisa Layne singing "All I Want For Christmas Is You." Whew. What pipes!

Speaking of harmony, at this time of year my heart goes out to people like me: people who cannot wrap.

This makes two different kinds I cannot do: wrap and rap.

My gift-wrapping skills are exhausted once I find the tape and scissors. After that, everything I touch turns to tragedy.

Martha's wrapped gifts are works of art. Before people open their gifts from her they actually ask, "Is it OK to touch this?" People marvel at her wrapping. They may also marvel at mine, but not in the same way.

I always feel bad about this. Martha gives me spectacularly wrapped gifts and I hand her something that looks like I found it in the street.

OK, I'm done confessin' about this -- one of my many -- shortcomings. Let me pull the tape and paper off the bottom of my shoes and we'll move on:

WHOA! BIG SAMMY: The thing that charms me about this photo of Sammy is that the camera wasn't fast enough to stop his tail -- look at that blur.

Here's his story: He was found at a Kroger in East Plano. We get his story from Cary Birdwell, noted dog assessment guru. The story goes that Sammy "was sitting there all day waiting for his owner to return for him."

Nobody claimed him, so, this 2-year-old, 15-pound, healthy dog is ready for a new loving home. (Call 214-763-9468 or 972-516-8382.) He's house-broken, has a new collar and leash and "is the perfect size for family with children....He is a love and loves to cuddle on the couch and curls beside you in the bed."

FOUND A HOME: A few weeks back we reported that Christie Hansen, noted local animal rescuer, had picked up another one. Katie was a 2-year-old, recently spayed dog that had jumped out o the back of a pickup on the Walmart parking lot in Terrell. Nobody ever came back for the dog. Nobody ever tried to claim her at the Terrell Animal Shelter, so Christie took her and began working on finding a home.

This came yesterday from Christie: "Good news! This little girl found a permanent home today with my husband's supervisor, who lives in Kaufman. He and his wife have two acres of land. One acre is fenced in for the dogs. They've been wanted a playmate and companion for their one-year-old Lab. They met earlier today and I just got a report from the new owner that they hit it off immediately! They've been playing together all day."

So, there you have it, another miracle of the season.

TRUDIE NEEDS A NEW HOME: There's a Frisco family that has just sold its home of five years and is moving into a leased home while awaiting construction of their new home. "The owner of the house we leased will not budget on letting us bring a dog there," reports Laura Goodwin, so, reluctantly, they're looking for a wonderful home for their great dog Trudie. That's Trudie with her young friend in a red wagon.

"She is a great family dog," Laura says. "She loves to be with people and she loves to play, expecially with our son (almost 3 years-old)."

She loves to play indoors and outdoors. And "when it is cold, she stays on her dog bed by the fire most of the day." Trudie is "potty trained and will come and get you or stand by the door until you let her out."

Obviously, you'll have to pass a rigorous audition if you want to adopt this dog. (Call 214-585-8222 or 972-399-1124 or e-mail [email protected])

"We love her very much and she is very spoiled and happy as can be. You can sometims even see her smile," says Laura. "We will miss her so much but will be at much peace if we know she goes to a family tht loves her just as much."

A SEASONAL PHOTO: Just because it's the season, here's a photo of Sparkey the Cat adding a feline accent to a Christmas scene.

Sparkey lives amid the decorations and other animals with Marva Lanier in Tyler. Marva says that during the holidays, Sparkey is often called "Sparkly" or "Sparkle."

Just thought I'd dress up today's presentation with a little holiday image.

THOSE GREAT SONGS: It's my firm belief that the greatest Christmas performance of all time belongs to an Oak Cliff kid, Lisa Layne. She first cut "All I Want For Christmas Is You" when she was with Vince Vance and the Valiants. Later she re-did the song for her own album (and you can hear that at http://www.lisalayne.com -- click on discography.)

She simply has a wonderful voice that reaches your soul. Hark, I'm telling you, a heralded angel sings.

In the meantime, Martha and I were out running around last night and she had to leave the minivan for a minute while I sat and cooled my heels. She left an instrumental CD going in the player -- it was jazz pianist Beegie Adair's  "Quiet Christmas" album.

One of the songs was so familiar that I could, since I was alone in a car with the windows rolled up, sing along.

So, I sang part of the line I remembered, "lookin' for some homemade pumpkin pie."

When Martha got back, I confessed that I couldn't remember the name of the tune. And Martha replied, "There's No Place Like Home For The Holidays."

We began to reconstruct the lyrics. They go something like, "I met a man who lives in Tennessee and he was headin' for Pennsylvania and some home-made pumpkin pie."

I said, "Whenever I think of that song, I hear Perry Como" and Martha said, "I hear Karen Carpenter singing about the pumpkin pie -- but not eating it."