An impassive George and Wendy's leather boots...but where is Winston????
posted by LuLu @ 6:59 PM
LuLu's Desperate House Dogs (formerly the Bow Wow Blog)
LuLu's Desperate House Dogs is a blog about an eccentric little Beagle named LuLu, who, along with her sister Sadie (a Whippet/Terrier/Beagle blend), writes the lurid Puppies in Lust series, and absorbs local color in an idyllic, off-the-leash, canine-centered village known as Lincoln Park~
Sunday, June 12, 2005
LuLu's Desperate House Dogs (formerly the Bow Wow Blog)
LuLu's Desperate House Dogs is a blog about an eccentric little Beagle named LuLu, who, along with her sister Sadie (a Whippet/Terrier/Beagle blend), writes the lurid Puppies in Lust series, and absorbs local color in an idyllic, off-the-leash, canine-centered village known as Lincoln Park~
About Me
- Name: LuLu
I am a single five-year-old female Beagle, shown here by myself, while my mix-up of a sister sings the praises of mutts on my blog. Well, let her. I have a most intriguing (one might even say lascivious) past, at least according to my autobiography. In a former lifetime I was Queen Elizabeth the Ist of England, and later on (among others) I was Nell Gwynn, Pauline Borghese, Louise Brooks, and eventually just lovable, neurotic, adorable ME. I have a perfectly charming, albeit very annoying, sister named Sadie. She's rarely plagued by conscience, possibly because she's a Sagittarius. To date she has attempted to steal most of my boyfriends, meaning we're quite used to fighting over bones. Sadie and I are the same age, although she's the adopted one. We do have a fair amount of things in common. For example, she was once Mary Queen of Scots, and later on both Barbara Villiers and Marlene Dietrich. Amazingly we get along -- at least when we're before the public~
Previous Posts
- An unhappy LuLu after an attempt on her life
- The mysterious Spencer...LuLu's great love?
- The beautiful and enigmatic Lily
- The story thus far:
- The lovely LuLu
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11 Comments:
Oh, dear. The hour grows later and later. I want to be brave for my friend Winston, but I'm so frightened, I'm gnawing my tail. I have to take Wendy's leather boots out to the rock in the woods by the brook in the thicket at midnight -- or else. Else means that something dreadful will happen to Winston!
A few things don't make sense. How many pairs of red leather boots does Wendy the chipmunk have, for gosh sake? Richelieu had one of them...Richelieu! He's been out all day, doing what -- I haven't a clue. I tried to get his sidekick Mabel stoned on fresh catnip, but she just became giddy and silly, and told me nothing that I needed to know.
Red boots. What's so important about these little red boots?
And who sent the note to me last night? I certainly did not recognize the paw prints that were all over it. Scratchy writing and small prints -- but not quite small enough to belong to a chipmunk.
I hope I'll live to see Spencer again. Maybe in my next life (if I have one) I won't be a spayed female beagle and he won't be a neutered spaniel who takes fits. And I hope I live to see my guardian again too. I know she sometimes wishes I were Gizmo, her beloved dog who died not long before she got me.
I dreamed about Gizmo last night. At least I think it was a dream. She appeared to me in a beautiful halo of light and wagged her tail at me, but I don't know what that portends.
Another hour to wait. And I'm as jumpy as a Jack Russell.
Hello? What was that? A knock at the door?
Something tells me it's not Opportunity.
LuLu ! What happened last night? Did you find Winston or Wendy? Lily and I are very worried. We hope you are home safe and sound by now. We also think that Wendy, that demented rodent, must have 4 boots. 2 for when she is upright, brandsishing her riding crop ( oh, the mere thought of that puts me very near a fit!) and 4 to wear when she hits the ground running. That means that there ia still one unaccounted for. I smell a rat, and I don't mean Rodney from the old neighborhood. And tell Mabel to get a grip on her catnip habit. Everyone knows that Mary Miles Mitner killed William Taylor Desmond and that she has not been under suspicion for decades. Give her a bus ticket to the Betty Ford Feline Unit. THis is no time to be in a drugged haze. I don't trust Richlieu but I don't want Wendy to hurt him or Winston or you. What really concerns me is that she is too much of a coward to do her own dirty work and could have hired any one of the henchmen from the wrong side of the pond. And I had your dream analyzed by Zelda the Physic Poodle, you know, that little bitty thing that reads the tea leaves and then takes a nap in the cup, and she said it means that you have Gizmo's blessing. She is very pleased that you are the new pet in charge of taking care of her beloved gaurdian and when you get passed your puppyhood there will be many happy creative years for you both. That smile w/halo of light wasn't exactly a hex! The plot thickens like too much cornstarch poured in pea soup, Tell us all is well!
I have finally made it home after a harrowing night involving a sociopathic squirrel, a vampire bat, a courageous mole, and a helpful (not to mention handsome)canine psychiatrist. Just now I am too exhausted and depleted to explain all that has happened to me. But the best news is -- Winston is free. Manny the mole dug him out of his bleak prison late last night, and he is back home with his guardian.
But I sway, I sneeze, I swoon.
Fortunately Dr. Papillon has such a gentle touch.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!
Mabel retorts:
L'il miss mary did not kill Des.
I know who did. What's more, Wendy
the chippie is not the mammal in charge of the current action. The boots are a clue. Maybe a dumb one, but there it is. I'm goin' back to my NIP.
My dear Lulu, Everyone here is so sad that you are suffering from Exhaustion. Aned just who is this handsome shrink, Pappilion? I hope he is well trained and does not cross the delicate line between Doctor and client and take unfair advantage of you. This morning when Mummy and I were out for an early walk, two chipmunks ran across our path. They were really a blur. I could not tell if it was Wendy and a companion, up to no good, or Chip and Dale Walleneda, now retired from the Bark'em and Bail'em circus. They used to do a high wire act out in Pekin, Illinois riding a tiny tandem bike on a bit of fishing wire stung over a drainage ditch behind city hall. I have heard they put on quite a show in their day, But, I digress...Get well soon. We are glad that you and Winston are safe, but everything seems to be coming to a crisis and I still fear for your life.
Chip and Dale Wallenda? Hmmmphf.
Too bad for them. Ya know, they're descended from a real old family of furniture makers, and I guess the chippy matriarch was NOT happy when the first chip and dale ran off and became singers. But that's show biz! Sounds like these two have fallen on hard times, but then haven't we all? So Spencer, you're the bee's knees, huh? Long, lean, and flame-coated. Sorry I'm not of your species. But I'm the girl with ALL the luck. Maybe I'll go catch me a chipmunk. Or maybe I'll mix Oregano with my nip!Hissy Hissy.
LuLu tells part of the story:
At last, I am back home and resting in my own little crate. Granted I miss the gentle succor of Dr. Papillon, and Winston's firm, guiding paw -- but there's truly no place like home after a night of chaos, horror, and very little beauty rest.
While pacing in my chamber the other night, terrified by the thought of meeting WHO KNOWS WHAT at the rock in the woods by the brook in the thicket at midnight, there came a tap-tap-tapping at my chamber door. It wasn't Opportunity.
Instead it was Dr. Papillon, the eminent canine psychiatrist, who specializes in squirrels who are nuts, nutty squirrels, squirrel nuts -- uhm, however you prefer it.
"LuLu," he said, rushing into the room as thunder rumbled in the background, "I cannot in good conscience allow you to go out to the rock in the woods by the brook in the thicket at midnight all by yourself."
I yelped in surprise. "How do you know about that?"
"I know," he said, "because Eli the squirrel, the evil twin of Whitney, the good twin, is my patient. I know because his brother came to me and told me what his evil twin had done. I know because I'm a brilliant psychiatrist. I know because it's in the script."
"Eli the squirrel, one of the brothers who sheltered Wendy the chipmunk, is behind Winston's disappearance?" I asked with a gasp.
He shrugged. "I don't know about that, soft paws, but I know he sent you a note. I know he's a bad squirrel. In fact, he's squirrely.
And I long to protect you."
I rolled over on my back and smiled up at him. "I love being submissive when I'm frightened," I told him.
He cleared his throat. "No time for that now. It's almost midnight. Are you ready to go?"
I wagged my tail, grabbed Wendy's red boots, and out the door we went.
"Courage!" said Dr. Papillon.
"Mfffph," I replied, since I had the boots in my mouth.
We came to the rock in the woods by the brook in the thicket. I heard the soft flutter of wings.
"It's me," said a throaty female voice.
I looked up. A slender, dark form was dangling upside down from a tree limb. "I'm Velma," she introduced herself, "the neighborhood vampire bat."
"He's not here yet?" asked Dr. Papillon.
"Nope....about two rooftops away as we speak. And he's traveling alone. I think this is a solo gig, Doc."
"Thanks, Velma," said Dr. Papillon. "You're a good woman for a vampire."
She made a little gurgling sound.
"Well, I'm off to bite a CEO. Good luck with Eli."
Seconds later I heard a tree branch crack.
"Come down here, Eli," Dr. Papillon called out. "LuLu is not going to put the boots under the rock. In fact, I'm not sure why she brought them with her."
I dropped the boots. "It's in the script," I told him.
His ears arched. "Oh, right. Well, come come out here and show yourself, Eli. Your nuts are on the line, so to speak."
Slowly, a fat squirrel emerged from the foliage and scampered down the tree. "Teedieheedieheedie, Doc," he said. "Can't anybody take a joke these days? I was just having some fun. You know that I live to torment dogs. Well, most dogs."
I lost what was left of my self-control. "Where is Winston?" I demanded. "What have you don't with my friend?"
"Tell her, Eli," said Dr. P. "Tell her, or no more shock treatments on the electrical wires for you. You're completely squirrely already, and I'm ready to drop you as a patient."
"Well, my gosh," said Eli. "Talk about a lack of compassion on the part of some guy who swears by Apollo."
"WHERE IS WINSTON?" I cried.
The squirrel fixed me with a maniacal grin. "Teedieheedieheedie. Sorry, sweetie, but I have no idea."
(To be continued)
LuLu continues her harrowing story:
I stared down at Wendy's little red boots, two tasty bits of leather glistening in the moonlight. Evidence? I started chewing on them anyway.
"You mean, you had nothing to do with Winston's disappearance?" Dr. Papillon asked Eli the squirrel.
"Teedieheedieheedie! Nope. Not me. That was Wendy's doing, I betcha.
Girl gets around, you see. I understand she's now working as a bartender at the Tail of Woe, a skunk hangout."
"I thought she was working as a psychic," I said. "That's what Spencer told me."
The squirrel tittered again. "Oh, Spencer would say something like that."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my hackles rising. "Are you attempting to impugn Spencer's good name?"
Dr. Papillon intervened. "Let me handle this, soft paws. Remember, you're dealing with a real nut case here."
He turned back to Eli.
"Why did you send that note to LuLu?"
"Oh, I sent it just for fun, and because I knew it would please Wendy. She loves games. Games of chance, games of death. Teedieheedieheedie. For that matter, I gave Winston those boots the beagle just ate. I told him they were big-time evidence, and the jerk believed me."
Eli hesitated, scrambled up the tree, and then darted back down. "Thought I heard something. Guess not."
I belched. Devouring treated leather sometimes affects me that way. "You mean, this whole thing is nothing but a ruse on your part?" I asked him.
"You got it, beagle babe. Dogs chase me, I make their lives hell. It's a good working relationship."
"Dogs don't chase you," said Dr. Papillon. "That's one of your problems, Eli. You're too eager, so dogs ignore you. Now tell me about Spencer."
"What's to tell? He's a born killer," insisted the squirrel.
"He is not!" I barked. "And neither is his crate-mate Lily."
The squirrel flashed me the maniacal grin again. "Aw, true. Lily's a lamb. Well, she's really a dog, but you know what I mean?"
Dr. Papillon and I nodded in agreement.
"But Spencer the spaniel is a born outlaw."
I opened my mouth to protest again, when I suddenly felt the earth move.
"Why, Dr. Papillon," I howled in surprise, before realizing he wasn't even close to me. I smiled a contented smile anyway.
"Uh-ho!" declared Eli. "Now I do hear something," and he promptly disappeared into the foliage.
I rolled onto my back as the earth continued to tremble, and Dr. Papillon leaped aboard. "Cling to me, soft paws! I think it's an earthquake."
"Naw, just me guys," came a voice out of the darkness, followed by a rank smell.
Dr. Papillon and I both blinked as mud flew in our faces. "Manny the mole?" we vociferated in unison.
He stuck his twitching pink snout out of the ground a few inches from my left hind leg. "Better call me Mr. Smith. I am a mole, remember?"
"What on earth are you doing here?" I asked him.
"Only rescuin' your pal Winston. You two wanna stop doin' the eight-legged shag long enough to help me pull him outta the tunnel?"
(To be concluded)
See the conclusion to My Night of Terror on the "comments" section just above this one~
Lulu,
well interestign site. threatre of the absurd? Convoluted but concise. has possibilities.
LuLu responds to anonymous:
Uh, thank you, we guess~
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