The story thus far:
LuLu, a beautiful young Beagle of patrician stock, is hypnotized by her guardian at a young age, and discovers that in another lifetime she was Queen Elizabeth I of England. Further, she soon realizes that a number of other historic personages have shared her fate and been reincarnated in canine form. A few historic celebrities have even (shudder)returned as cats.
LuLu currently lives across the street from the late Sir Winston Churchill, somewhat predictably a phlegmatic English bulldog this time around. She shares her home with two cats who can also boast interesting pasts. One is the former Cardinal Richelieu, the brilliant and cunning seventeenth-century spy master of France, and the other is Mabel Normand, a silent-screen movie queen, whose career was ruined when she was implicated in the scandalous William Desmond Taylor murder case back in the 1920s. In feline form, Mabel is an embittered catnip addict.
LuLu has the ability to "sense" where other famous dogs lie. For example, she knows that Sigmund Freud is now living life as a Schnauzer in Melbourne, Australia. Unfortunately, she finds herself mired in confusion when it comes to the identity of Spencer, a handsome Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, who may or may not have been her Great Love from centuries in the past. Then there is his delicately beautiful but painfully enigmatic girlfriend, Lily. Her love for Spencer may be largely unrequited, but she's willing to give up every chew toy she owns just to hold onto her man.
LuLu and her friends live in an Eden-like setting in a place called Lincoln Park, located somewhere in the middle of the USA. She belongs to an exclusive dog-walking group called the Waggin' Train, having inherited her spot from her guardian's fomer companion, the almost legendary Pekingese, Gizmo -- who sometimes visits LuLu as a ghost.
The story has been rolling right along. So far, Richelieu and Mabel have been thwarted in their efforts to take over LuLu's doggy etiquette blog, but Lily is about to be sued by a litigious chipmunk, and a recent attempt has been made on LuLu's life.
Come join us for the fun and silliness that is the Bow Wow Blog. Post a comment, ask a question, or just enjoy the story.
Meanwhile, tail wags and licks from your blog hostess, LuLu
posted by LuLu @ 11:53 PM
16 Comments:
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air, sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play...
"LuLu," called out Winston the bulldog, as he lumbered across the thick spring grass to where I lay, resting, on the back lawn. "LuLu, I am pleased to see you looking so much better. All restored to health, then?"
"Restored and had a bath," I told him, wagging my tail. "Once a month whether I need it or not, even after mushroom poisoning."
Winston wagged his stub of a tail in return. "That was a horrible thing to have happen, but your coat is positively glistening, my queen."
"Why, thank you, Winston," I replied, firing off a flirtatious glance from beneath my thick hound dog eyelashes.
I saw him smile as he sat down. "So, any leads as to who might have left the mushroom for you to eat?"
I shook my head. "I'm still trying to sort it all out."
He stretched out beside me. "And what do you hear from Spencer these days?" he asked.
I barked a laugh. "You always come straight to the point, don't you, Winston?"
He snorted. "Not always. Not when I was SIR Winston, if I am to believe in your tales of reincarnation. Well?"
"I'm not sure Spencer is the person I once thought he was," I temporized -- and he knew it.
"If you were Queen Elizabeth I, Gloriana, good Queen Bess, and Spencer was your great love, he must have been the Earl of Leicester, or Essex, I should think. Surely not Tom Seymour, not if I know my history."
I stretched my paws and admired the freckles on my well turned legs. "I'm all in a muddle right now, Winston."
He put a firm paw across both of my own. "You must know how attracted I am to you," he said. "I'll try to remain optimistic while you work on sorting things out. Frankly, it doesn't make much sense to be anything else. But I won't wait forever, LuLu."
I licked his paw.
"I have heard from Lily," I admitted.
"Ah, the lovely lady who wears her heart on her collar. Are you aware that Wendy Little, the chipmunk who planned to sue her, has come up missing?"
I sat up, startled. "No!"
He nodded his massive head. "Quite."
"This is a surprise," I said. "Wendy was at the top of my list of suspects regarding the attempt on my life."
Winston snorted again. "That little chipmunk wants to write about murder. I doubt she has the fortitude needed to commit it."
While I mulled over his words, Winston rose to his feet and shook himself off. "I see Richelieu up on his balcony, and believe I'll stop over and have a chat with the fellow -- with your permission, of course."
I waved a paw. "Enjoy yourself, although I can't for the life of me imagine what it is you see in that cat."
"Oh, Richelieu's a most interesting chap," he insisted. "He's both crafty and sagacious, which generally makes for good conversation."
It was my turn to snort. "As long as you watch your back, Winston."
He took his leave, and I watched him plod across the lawn with something bordering on deep affection. Winston is a fine dog and a wonderful friend.
How I wish I were in love with him!
All at once, past the sweet scent of the grass, and the intermingled pleasant aromas of roses and viburnum, my nose picked up a different smell. Sweet yet harsh.
And very strong.
I am a beagle and I follow my nose. I bound to my feet and raced across the lawn to the long ribbon of woodland that borders the property.
"Phew!" I barked. "Something stinks." And then I saw the mangled bundle of fur. My bark changed into the high cry of a hound at a kill, and a few moments later, Winston came huffing and puffing his way back across the lawn.
He took a look. "A dead weasel," he pronounced. "It looks like one of ours got him. Poor fellow! That's a bad way to die."
"C'est une honte! Eet eez Weelee
ze weesel."
I looked up. Richelieu had appeared, as usual like a puff of smoke. His sea-green eyes gleamed with an eerie inner light, and he caressed the grass with a continual, sensuous sweep of his reddish-orange tail.
"Wendee Leetle's loiyer," he clarified.
Winston and I looked at one another. Richelieu began to clean himself.
"The lawyers," he said, dropping his heavy French accent, "they are always expendable, non?"
It was not a question.
Ha! Ha,Ha,Ha,Ha! First, we kill all the lawyers! I wish it had been my doing, getting rid of one of the tormentors of my friend LuLu ( Friends, yes, but lovers no longer. That was in the distant past, my doe-eyed Lu, and the fire no longer burns. But I am fond of you.) And anyone who upsets my cribmate Lily. I would have enjoyed putting out that little weasle's lights. Alas, my gaurdians keep me on a lead at all times, knowing of my propensity for the occasional bit of bad temper. I suspect it was Clarrence the Owl. I think the old attorney loves that he is a predator this time around. I bet that weasle was a pain in the courtroom. Or maybe he has a crush on Lily and rushed to protect her. Watch your back, Lu...
I was just gazing at my new web picutre and remembering something about lovely as a cloud posing among the daffydills. Or something like that. can't remember the exact words. Sigh, I love spring.
LuLu, Please don't ask me to name my sources, but I have discovered that chipmunk Wendy Little is not only alive, but still within the area. She is presently living and working in a squalid burrow called the "Rodentia Nut and Salad Bar and House of Pain and Pleasure". It is located on the eastern side of the lake near the boat docks, where the smell of fish is overwhelming. The burrow is owned by a hairy rodent who calls himself the "Mad Munk". He is a hollow-eyed fellow who is addicted to peanut brittle.
Wendy has dyed her fur a brassy blonde, and she scurries about in a red-leather outfit which includes boots and a whip. According to the Mad Munk, "She is a writer looking for local color". He also commented that she could crack nuts with the best of them.
There you have it, Velvet Ears -- The whereabouts of Wendy. Will you be out in the yard tomorrow morning, if it's not raining? Tonight is dark and stormy, but I remain optimistic about tomorrow.
Yours, Winston
LuLu responds to her friend Winston:
I too have news!
Earlier I spied Richelieu hurrying down the outside stairway with something in his mouth. I thought it might be Wendy! I chased him, and after a brief tussle, he dropped his prize.
Winston, it was a tiny red boot, a thing so small, I thought it had come from the foot of a doll.
Please check with your sources again. If Richelieu has aught to do with this matter of murder and attempted murder, I feel certain that a bleached-out chipmunk has come to a gruesome end.
LuLu,
I'm surprised you haven't mentioned that a lot of poetry is doggerel
My dear LuLu,
Chipmunk Wendy Little has surfaced again. She is currently known to be living with two squirrels named Eli and Whitney in a cottonwood tree on the "wild" side of the lake. Eli and Whitney are well-known nut dealers, specializing in primo, black-market walnuts.
I suppose all of this makes an odd sort of sense, particularly since chipmunks are members of the squirrel family, and the move most definitely is a step up for Ms. Little, who recently dyed her fur again; it's raven black this time, and she now refers to herself as "Margo". She spends her days puffing on rolled honeysuckle cigarettes, while holding court in a hole in the tree, which she prefers to call her "salon".
Unfortunately, matters have not gone as well for Ms. Little's former landlord. The Mad Munk was crushed to death in a landslide, and his burrow ruined, mere hours after our favorite chipmunk decamped.
A coincidence? I think it unlikely!
Be careful, LuLu. That's two murders in roughly a week. I do not like the way matters are shaping up at all.
Yours,
Winston
cc: Spencer and Lily Hilton
The game ( or in this case, the boot ) is afoot! It's hard to believe the death and destruction Wendy leaves as she runs amuck through the lives of innocent, and some not so innocent, residents of The Park. No matter how many times she changes her fur colour, she cannot hide. I would know her scent anywhere. Keen eyes, everyone, and be ready to spot and report anything you see ( or smell, but that's a given ) I sense danger now more than ever.
LuLu says:
It's hard to believe that one small chipmunk could wreak such havoc -- two murders and an attempt on my life. (Winston forgot to mention that foul deed!)
Let's all be on the lookout for a
blonde, brunet, purple (or even bald) chipmunk with attitude. Possible serial killer; certainly an omen of bad luck.
Wendy, if you're reading this, please consider turning yourself in, and my friends and I will do all that we can to make sure you don't get one of the ambushing hawks for a judge.
Louie the Papillon, the local canine psychologist, assures me that it's NEVER (well, almost never) too late for rehabilitation.
Still your friend (at least not your sworn enemy), LuLu
a chipmunk?
My dear friend LuLu. Spencer and I thought you should know that something strange has been going on in our backyard. The first place we ever saw Wendy ( Spencer called it a crib but I can't think why) was under an overturned, unused trash can. Well, we both smelled her scent again today as well as that of Reeshlew, you cat house mate. Somethin is sure up if those two have been meeting. Or first one was there and then the other We don't like it at all. Not on our turf! And there are so many rumors going around. We talked to Murphy, our German Shepard neighbor, and he swears that Wendy was spotted in the woods behind his house. If it was her, she has now dyed her hair platinum and set up shop under a fallen log,where she is telling fortunes and serving herbal tea in hollowed out acorns. Boy Howdy! I wouldn't drink anything she made, not since someone tried to poison you, my bestist pal.
LuLu responds to her friend Lily:
Dear one,
It deeply concerns me that Wendy has moved back across the lake and is once again sneaking around on our turf. Winston has been trying to check on her, but she's been moving so fast, he hasn't been able to get a good jaw clamp on the rotten little rodent.
He told me he's going out again tonight to look for her, and I cautioned him to be careful, but you know Winston. He's as gentle as a lamb, but because he looks so fierce, he takes it for granted that nobody will ever bother him. I hope he's right.
Please thank Murphy for his information. (Those shepherds can come in handy.) I know that Richelieu sometimes uses the local chipmunks as minor players in his many nefarious schemes -- and I did catch him with Wendy's boot in his mouth. I can't imagine what he's up to now, but I'll see if I can get his sidekick Mabel stoned on catnip, then pump her for information.
Let me know if you see Winston tonight. I feel very uneasy about him.
Lulu,
Awhile ago you had a person write in about a dog who played the piana. My dog also plays the piana. I thot that he was special but maybe not.
Does anybody else have a dog who plays the piana or any musical insturment. LOL.
My dog can sing the national anthem.
LuLu replies to Paul:
Ah, but can he accompany himself on the piano?
Frankly, I'm sick of seeing this message. Maybe he can accompany himself on the xylophone?
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