POSTED MONDAY AFTERNOON FOR THE SAKE OF DOGS AND CATS--AND PEOPLE...

EDITION OF MONDAY, DEC. 26, 2022 [PetPowellPress] How many animal rescuers and advocates think they need a week off without a single note about dogs or cats in trouble?
I’d ask for a show of hands, but I know you’re too tired to lift your arms.

I’ve been writing about animals, rescues and shelters for a long time and no matter how charitably I look at things, the bottom line is the “don’t care/so what/“ people are the villains. And by the time they can be ID’d, it’s too late for their dogs and cats.
You’d think a massive “Be Kind To Animals” PR campaign would have some nfluence. Billboards, phone ads, locking people in stocks on the front lawn of city hall … oh, my! My Christmas spirit has waned. But, let’s save ‘em all.
To the right? That's my office cat William and his office companion-toy. He's quite an affectionate kitty cat. If you don't have an office cat, maybe you need one -- they're pretty darned handy when you hit a blind spot in a paragraph.
That tree? Ah, a sign of Christmas’ grip on the readlarrypowell.com household. That is the chicken-wire Christmas tree my yulespouse Martha created decades ago. She’s got the Christmas gift. And I needed something to cheer up the mood I put myself in with those opening lines about the “don’t care/so what” people.
MEANWHILE, THERE WAS THIS
TALE ON A PARKING LOT
Here’s one of the reasons I’m becoming likely to not read the messages on a neighborhood bulletin board. This one came from an Arlington note.
On Christmas eve, a woman wrote: “Shame on the lady, you know who you are, that abandoned her dog in the Walmart parking lot.this morning. Poor dog was just walking around the parking lot hoping you would come back for him. Called animal shelter and they were closed. As a senior I couldn't run after him. Hope she has a wonderful Christmas.”
[LARRY ASIDE: We don’t have a picture of the woman or the dog — but we can imagine what her heart looks like.]
CONTEMPLATIONS
THINKING ABOUT STUFF
I may take the next two days off. I am contemplating trying out for pitcher with the Texas Rangers. I think I can help batters in the American League. And that seems to be worth something to Major League Baseball. OK, I'm not sure I can throw a hardball 60-feet, 6-inches right now. I may have to play myself back into shape. …
Contemplating this vow for the new year: I will eliminate reading the neighborhood bulletin from my daily schedule — it depresses me when people are stunned that their little dogs and cats go missing when “let out” unsupervised in a yard in a neighborhood famous for wandering coyotes, predatory hawks, bobcats and people who don’t care. Protecting the animals — it’s the duty of the loving human. Right?

I’m posting this photo because it makes me happy. That is Yuletide Earl, a work of yuletide art that is a tribute to my late friend, Texas Earl the Cheeseman. We lost Earl to whatever awful stuff afflicts Rottweilers when they are “up in years” and the loss has not just affected me. It has afflicted me. Not long after he died, I was driving through our neighborhood and a family was unloading elements of its Christmas display. This guy was about the size of Earl. And has big eyes like Earl had. He was bright and his head bobs. Like Earl’s. Earl is the guy I rescued out of Kiest Park in Dallas after he’d been “left” next to a soccer field. When a car would arrive and park, Earl would get up from shady spot under a tree, trot over, look at the driver and, a little droopy, trot back to his spot and flop down to wait for the person who’d left him there. I watched this for several minutes — many cars — many trips from shade to the lot by this magnificent Rottie. Finally, I’d had enough. I got my travelin’ leash, got out of the 1999 Ford F150 (Earl hadn’t been interested in it), and lured the guy to meet me — always had treats for pups in those days. I asked Earl if he’d like a new home and I opened the passenger side door. Earl hopped in, I drove him home. Our vet said he was about 2. Earl lived with us from 2009 until late in 2021. We loved him every day. So, I decided that the nearly disgarded Christmas decoration — an antler-less reindeer - would become Yuletide Earl in honor of a dog I miss every day. [LARRY ASIDE: That's me and Earl on recreational ride years later. His name? I had named my new dog Texas Earl the Cheeseman for no particular reason though I believe in giving a distinct animal a very distinct name.] The Christmas tribute, i.e., Yuletide Earl, spends part of each Christmas season greeting visitors from the front flowerbed that, by spring, will be full of tulips, maybe elephant ears and other flowers my Yulespouse Martha plants and enjoys. 
When I see a Christmas tree, when I see Martha’s flowers, when I see the lack of a Rottie on our red couch, I think of Texas Earl the Cheeseman with my heart. He probably would have shaken his head at the colorful Yuletide tribute, but he’d have still let me hug his neck and kiss the top of his head. Yeah, I’m a sap for a good dog. It’s becaue of the Christmas that lingers in my heart. And, this very moment, I’d love to turn around and see Texas Earl the Cheeseman snoozing on the rug next to the Yuletide version of one of the world’s greatest dogs.
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