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.)
