Oh, not again! Supermodel Lily the spaniel (shown here in one of her more sluttish poses) vanishes....this time from the fabled Orient Expess. (Photo by J.M. Hilton) See comments section~
posted by LuLu @ 11:51 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~
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Oh, not again! Supermodel Lily the spaniel (shown here in one of her more sluttish poses) vanishes....this time from the fabled Orient Expess. (Photo by J.M. Hilton) See comments section~
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
- Lily was last seen in the company of this creature...
- Prince Regent Paco de Shepherd. Are his best moves...
- Sydney, the blue-eyed intern. Prince Paco's passio...
- The Sade. She's sending Morey and his buddy to KAN...
- Hanging out in Vilnius? Monica Ferrett, Esquire, g...
- Cody the Akita...considering a trip to Lithuania? ...
- How faithful can one dog be? Read our latest entry...
- Where, O, where have these two little dogs gone? (...
- HERE COME THE BRIDES! Dacia the legal maven says "...
- The Asp wins the heart of a noble dog and becomes ...
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LuLu's writes from somewhere in the Moravian countryside....
All right, I lied. I promised the good doggies at Sushi-Siam Pet Chow that I wouldn't break the news before they did, but we're talking about my bestest friend and a MAJOR story here -- and my blog can use all the help it can get.
Supermodel Lily and I were traveling on the fabled Orient Express, which has come down a few gold bones and several passenger cars since Agatha Christie wrote about it, believe you me. Sushi-Siam Pet Chow paid me a bundle of bowsers to smuggle Lily out of Italy and get her on the train for Vienna (where she had a photo shoot scheduled), while they checked into Moxie the cavapoo's claim about Lily being his bio mom. (Since he's pretty photogenic himself, they were already making plans to put 'the face of Lily's puppy' on cans of puppy chow -- so don't get the wrong idea here. SS wasn't thinking strong-paw tactics, just checking out the facts and planning to work on the spin.)
Meanwhile, Lily and I got on the train and made ourselves comfortable in the still-attached Canine Club Car. I hadn't said anything to her about Moxie, and she didn't seem to think our abrupt departure from the Lake Como fat farm was at all unusual. She looked really good and I told her so -- but all she wanted to talk about was whale meat!
We'd both noticed a private car attached to the train and asked our well-informed (and well-formed) Dalmatian steward about it. "That's Prince Slim Jim Kim of North BimBim's car," he told us, wrinkling his nose. "He's a dwarf mongoose, and he stinks like a civet cat."
"I smell WHALE MEAT," declared Lily, who started to tremble all over, and then to drool.
"Oh, they're having a party over there," the handsome Dalmatian informed us, "and they've got whale meat galore."
Well, there was no holding Lily back, and I didn't really want to. While she ran to the next car to try and cadge a pound of whale meat, the hunky steward and I enjoyed a quick game of fetch-the-sticks, followed by a fast go-round of roll-in-the-kibble. And he was O so good at it!
About a half-hour later, the train stopped to uncouple, and so did we.
It was then that I realized the uncoupled car belonged to the prince...and the train rolled on toward Vienna sans Lily.
A day later, and more than a few bowsers poorer, I arrived back in the Moravian countryside -- to my adorable doghouse with its quaint thatched roof...and Arnost, my bohemian lover.
According to Sushi-Siam, Prince Slim Jim Kim has insisted that their company give him their huge whale meat consignment, or he will blow up their home office in Tokyo, as well as their other offices and holdings throughout the world.
"Mongooses are known for their destructiveness," a Sush-Siam spokescanine told me, "so we think he may mean business."
To make matters worse, Slim Jim Kim faxed SS some highly revealing snapshots of Lily, showing her lying on her back --spread beagle style! on the BimBim national flag. "I'll do anything for whale meat!" reads the caption.
The International Association for Endangered Mongooses has asked for a nine-species summit discussion, the American Association of Whale Meat Freaks is calling for immediate action, Prince Regent Paco de Shepherd has gone squirrel hunting with pretty intern Sydney Shepherd, and I'm going to go outside and play a hot game of sticks with Arnost.
You heard it here first! But probably wouldn't have if Sushi-Siam had allowed me keep those bowsers.
LuLu~
Lily rocks.
I notice the mongoose looks like Hitler.
He looks more like Robert de Niro crossed with a lab rat.
It looks like Mr. Whipple.
Who is Mr. Whipple?
Email received by TEOTP:
"HELP!!!! P"
The Eye On The Park:
Isn't it about time for your booster shots, Mr. Dweeber?
Mr. Whipple was a character in a Charmin toilet paper ad back in the 1980s. He liked to squeeze the TP because it was so soft, which says quite a lot about his character, no?
It lookes like Fellony.
Why won't you tell us where Lincoln Park is located, Lulu?
She has, Fiver. Or Lily did. But I'm no trlling,
I'm no trlling either, molly.
Not much is.
She meant thrilling.
Yon prince looks like my cat Honker.
The Eye On the Park...
This just in: Prince Regent Paco de Shepherd announced this morning that he is sending newly appointed Amanuensis of State, Dacia the schnauzer, to the tiny Asian nation of North BimBim, in an effort to secure the release of supermodel Lily the spaniel, who is currently being held as a "love slave" by Prince Slim Jim Kim, the ruler of the thoroughly annoying little country.
Meanwhile, a spokescanine for Sushi-Siam Pet Chow, the Tokyo based megaloopylopalis, which recently made Lily "the face" of their entire dog food line, announced that Lily's probable out-of-leash-lock son, Moxie the cavapoo, will replace his mother as "the face" on all Sushi-Siam products until "the North BimBim crisis has been resolved."
Word's out that Lily told her employers she's perfectly happy playing Madame de Pompadour to Slim Jim Kim's Louis XV. "We're hoping she's simply caught up in a Patty Hearst Stockholm Syndrome situation," the spokescanine went on. "We're trying to negotiate with North BimBim, but it doesn't help that the Prince keeps threatening to blow up our plants and offices, or that the "face" on our cans of dog food thinks he's wonderful."
"Lily and the prince are both addicted to whale meat," pointed out Amanuensis Dacia the schnauzer, "meaning that Sushi-Siam has a lot to answer for. As everybody knows, whale meat is one of the main ingredients in their dog chow."
"Does PETA know about this?" TEOTP demanded to know.
Dacia merely smiled and wagged her tail as she stepped aboard Hyacinth the goose, now officially known as Air Force Three.
"I'm taking several psychiatrists with me to evaluate Lily's mental condition," she told us. "If all else fails," she concluded, snapping shut her Pink Bermuda Dog Biscuit Bag from the Gilded Paw, "I'm also taking along three pit bulls and a nuclear warhead."
Meanwhile, her new mate, Handsome Dan the bull dog, will be staying at the fabled Raffles Hotel in Singapore. "Always there for support," he told us, "and Singapore's but a bark and a phone call away."
(Developing...hopefully from a respectable distance.....)
I'm enjoying this.
I think Slim Jim Kim is kinda sweet.
It's the colors, Cathy, but I love the little rat tail.
I've become a biker.
Do we dare to ask, Fiver?
My owner has a motor bike. I am learning to ride on it.
A corgi on a motorcycle?
The Eye On The Park:
This just in from our stringer in Yokohama...and where do we get all these stringers, I ask you? Are they LuLu's castoff lovers, or what?
Oh, anyhow, according to our stringer in Yokohama, Sushi-Siam Pet Chow, after a lengthy hunt, finally located Moxie the cavapoo's birth certificate deep within the basement of the Louvre Museum. "Nobody could figure out what it was doing there, particularly since Moxie was born in the American Midwest," the stringer told us. "But what the bark?"
Supposedly the document contains serious "discrepancies."
"It was signed by a Vietnamese street vendor," the stringer informed us, "and the attending veterinarian had four outstanding parking tickets and unpaid gambling debts at the time. The animal technician refused to use her middle name when signing checks, and..."
"Wait a minute!" we growled. "Are you talking about Mox the cavapoo or Suri Cruise?"
"Oii! Sorry!" said the stringer "Righto. Mox is the puppy with a poodle for a pappy. Suri's the invisible kid of TomKat."
"Get on with it!" we snarled.
"Well, it looks like Moxie picked a doozy for a daddy -- none other than His Grace the Duke of Rothschild and Roquefort."
"Royalty?"
"Not precisely. Grandma was the real deal, but the duke is mere bowser power -- not a bad thing, mind you, and he's very high on the nobility food chain."
"Wow," we said. "And does His Grace know about Moxie?"
"He does now, thanks to Sushi-Siam," our stringer assured us. "He thought his affair with Lily was 'juste un de ces choses.'"
"That doesn't sound like a French idiom to us," we told him.
"What do you want from me?" asked the stringer. "I'm a Japanese spitz, for Dog's sake. I can bark in seven languages. Is it my fault if I bark in none of them well?"
"So how does Daddy feel about Mox?" we asked, ignoring his rhetorical question.
"Tres bone, Western devil bitch. He got neutered shortly after he and Lily the spaniel enjoyed their brief puppy pump, meaning Moxie is his only offspring."
We tried to whistle and failed. "Do you know why dogs can't whistle?" we asked the stringer.
"No," he replied, "but do you know the one about the beagle, the basset, and the hermaphrodite Rottweiler?"
"Get outta here," we said.
"Sure you don't want to spend a few extra bowsers for the real scoop on Suri Cruise?"
Oh, uh-huh. Like the truth there is going to surface before the truth about Noah's Ark.
Late this afternoon, we stumbled across Moxie's foster brother, Logan the bichon, lying under a park bench, looking pitifully downcast.
"Sand fleas eating you?" we asked. "And where's your lovely fiancee, Kinky the hound?"
"She left me when I said I was going back to Italy to help Moxie save his mother."
"That's too bad," we sympathized, even though Kinky is a male magnet we'd love to see sent to the pound.
"Yeah," he said, "and I don't have the bowsers for a plane ticket over."
"Whoa! Like, I'll take you to Italy," offered Hyacinth the goose's wayward son, Mallard. "I've always wanted to float amongst the garbage in the Grand Canal in Venice."
Understandably Logan hesitated. "A bichon flying on the back of a gander?"
"Look at it this way," said Mallard. "No sitting next to a 300 LB woman with halitosis for hours on end, and you can really breeze through customs."
"You're right!" declared Logan. "Why not get goosed, instead of getting screwed flying commercial?"
"Up, up, and away?" asked Mallard.
As the pair soared skyward, Logan barked back: "Tell Kinky I love her and I shall return."
Yeah, sure. Like we haven't heard that line before.
It's fun, but I'm jealous of the dogs on the blog. Nobody lives their lives!
My sister and I would rather read about Lily's darling puppy instead of more nonsense about silly Tom Cruise.
O, Tom is cute.
Could Katie Holmes be a sex slave to Slim Jim Kim?
Why is he called Slim Jim?
Because of his tail?
No, because it just seems to fit. And it sounds better than "Slim Jimmy Kimmy."
So Okay you've got dogs and cats and ferrets and squirrels and possums and even elementals screwing around with Morey the mutt and his pals. So what's wrong with a common housefly? Well this is a dog blog you might state unconditionally but like I said you've had everything on here but hedgehogs and monkeys. Besides I'm a fly who doesn't mind talking about dogs. Some of my best friends are dogs although a lot more of my best friends are fleas.
So I was stuck on the wall over at Poppa Poochie's Singles Bar tonight. I hang out there when it's getting late and the patrons are too blitzed to swat at me. (Most of the time I flit about at Arnie Airedale's Chop Suey Palace where a fly like me actually gives the place a modicum of class.)
That pretty little hound Kinky was lapping up the Gin Whoppers tonight and telling everybody how her boyfriend the bichon dumped her and you could tell all the unneutered males were figuring he had to be plain bananas without sugar and milk. So she's talking to the owner of the place -- Cody the Akita who's getting set to fly to Lithuania to reconnect with his Great Love Jessica -- another honey of a hound although Kinky gets a slightly higher score on my sweeter meter. So Kinky says she doesn't have the money to fly to Europe and Cody says he'll lend her some and I see them start to gaze into each other's eyes which isn't easy for me to do since my eyes are compound but mammals manage that dopey four-eyed knockout punch easily enough.
So about this time that sexy little barmaid Belle the cocker sort of squints across the bar and then starts to wag her tail faster than a bee can suck a gardenia dry of nectar. Coming through the door is Inspector Snots Cluzo from many moons ago -- a love 'em and leave 'em Joe if there's glue on flypaper.
"Hey little pup" he says to Belle who goes into her feminine act and at first ignores him but then he starts sniffing at her and giving her the nudge. Pretty soon the four of them -- Cluzo and Belle and Cody and Kinky -- all have their heads together and I hear comments like -- He's the bad cat? He's the one what tried to do Spencer? He's in Lithuania? Jessica is there! Oh poor Logan!
I don't know for sure what is going on but all of a sudden the quartet is on its way to Europe and they leave that bleary-eyed ace reporter from the blog in charge of the bar.
Buzzzz. I doubt the stings of a thousand wasps could wake up that bitch tonight.
Well this has been fun but now I'm off to the Golden Arches for the Midnight Show. With a little luck I won't wind up on any windshields.
HastaPasta -- TFOTW
Does the fly have a name?
How about Heraclitus the Housefly? Or maybe Hamlin or Hugo?
Earl?
Hugo is sort of there, but I don't like Earl. Earl is stupid.
Yep. That's pretty much what my mother said when I dated one.
You dated a common housefly? That beats my record.
The Eye On The Park:
Let me tell you, it's not easy being both an ace reporter and a bartender, but WE are doing our best to juggle our duties, mainly in hopes of scoring big with Cody the Akita when he finally comes to his senses, gives up on hounds, and returns home to the bitch he left behind him. (Besides WE get to keep our tips.) As for the blog -- where else could WE find such a captive audience?
WE are a little hung over today, due to the lasting impression made by sixteen Gin Whoppers last night, and we're feeling --"Here's your Milk Punch and Goose Poop, sweetie --" just low enough to contact psychic Madame Spirea, who, along with her dear friend Max the Pharaoh hound, is presently in Egypt, drawing down vibrations from the Great Sphinx itself -- the Great Sphinx, who according to Madame S., is actually a spaniel named Trixie.
"Hello, Madame S.? Are you there?"
"Yes, my dear, I'm coming across via mental telepathy but running into some interference."
"That's the blender. Two Blue Moons with gravy chasers set to go! So, what's new?"
"Well, Max and I have been making love nonstop for the past few days. Trixie wants to be reborn, you see?"
"She really said that? The Sphinx said, 'I want to live again'?"
"No, my dear, that was Trisha Yearwood. Trixie has simply let us know that she wants to romp, stomp, fetch balls, and poop amongst us once more."
"Three Vodka Varnish Removers ready to rock. Barmaid!"
"Oh, Max, do sniff me there."
"Uh, will Trixie be a Phaniel or a Sparaoh -- pronounced, you know? Like Captain Jack? Hey! Get your four paws off the bar, pal! You're over your limit! Bouncer!!"
"Trixie will be a Sphinx, just a much smaller and very lively version, of the hulking structure which has loomed over the desert at Giza for milleniums."
"But aren't you a little old to be having puppies?"
"Hey! Whatdayamean I'm over my limit? You're talkin' to the flippin' blender, bitch!"
"Watch it, Ace. This is a supernatural moment. I'm just glad I don't have to be a virgin."
"Sorry, but does the Sphinx want to come back now because the world is such a mess and she's the only hope?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. She's got the hots for Bolero Dolce Sinfonia, and back in the days of Ancient Egypt, she was seriously into whale meat."
"WHAT?"
The blender overflowed.
"OK, buddy, on the floor and spread 'em."
"Dogfight at table six!!!"
"WHERE ARE OUR DRINKS?"
"May the curse of Isis turn all of you into marble statues!"
Silence.
O, Dog! The curse worked.
Except for one buzzing fly.
O, Dog!
(Developing? Well, I've got to get them back somehow, don't I?)
We've all dated a few cockroaches.
Not yet, but I've lived with a few fleas.
Do I have a fly named after me or is it a dog? Watch it, Lulu!
It's a dog, Max. Max the Pharoh hound, Max. Pyramids are buff.
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From the case notes of Dr. Louis Papillon, canine psychiatrist:
Ms. Ace, a blog reporter for LuLu's Desperate House Dogs, is an attractive young bitch of mixed breed who was brought into my office early this morning by the Lincoln Park police, in what can only be described as a "frenzied" state, a condition comparable to one often exhibited by chronic Volvo chasers and toe lickers.
According to Ms. Ace, while working at Poppa Poochie's Singles Bar as the head bartender the other night, she managed to turn a roomful of patrons into marble statues.
(NB: The Lincoln Park police said the patrons at Poppa Poochie's looked exactly the way they always look around two a.m. after eight or nine rounds.)
"The Sphinx did it, or maybe it was Isis," babbled Ms. Ace once I got her on to the couch. "You must understand, I was communicating with a psychic through the blender, and I didn't mean to put a curse on anybody. I'm working two jobs and I'm under too much stress, and my mother will never understand this and will bring up the fact I was the runt of the litter."
"Tell me about your sex life," I suggested, since I'm working on another book, and this babe was obviously a crumb cake.
Well, that did it.
"I don't have any," she yiped. "All the good unneutered males are already taken, and I'm left with creeps like Mr. Dweeber, who's been stalking me online by sending me weird coded messages."
"Any unusual dreams?" I asked her, while doodling a little pornography in the margin of my notebook page.
"Dreams? Sure, but nothing unusual. I'd like to have it all, like every other bitch my age. I dream of getting leash-locked to a handsome male with a great sense of smell, a bank account filled with bowsers, a non-furniture chewer who doesn't have a wandering nose. I want to have terrific puppies who will grow up to be TV stars or get their mugs on cans of dog food like Lily the supermodel, and I hope to win outstanding success in my chosen field trials. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary."
And she began to whimper.
"I think a week or two spent at Camp Thorazine will greatly improve your chances for a semi-normal life," I told her, "particularly since I'm the shrink in charge.
"Meanwhile, let's get you started on a strong dose of catnip along with some Prozac, and I'm also giving you an autographed copy of my latest book, 'When Waggles Becomes a Whack Job.'"
"I don't want to go into a clinic!" Ms. Ace protested, "and I don't want to take drugs! You know what I want to do? I want to go off to South America to look for Shamus O'Possum. He fell out of a plane over the Andes, but he may not be dead, you know?"
"Oh, no, no. Of course not. Tell me, do you regard this Shamus O'Possum as a sexual fantasy?"
"Or," she continued as if I were not in the room, "I may go to North BimBim to see if I can free Lily the spaniel from the clutches of Slim Jim Kim."
"A long vacation might work," I conceded, as Ms. Ace hopped off the couch, leaped out a window, and ran off down the street.
An electric fence might prove even more beneficial.
My secretary padded into the room, twitching her hips and wagging her tail in that bewitching little way she has. "Doctor," she said, "there are a couple of dogs in the outer office who insist it's an emergency."
"What's wrong with them?" I asked her.
She winked suggestively. "Get this! They're under the impression they've been turned into marble statues."
Hmmmm.
Wasn't Dr. Papallon in one of your stories a long time ahgo?
Float like the butterfly, sting like the bee.
I don't remember him.
Johanna, La Johanna
You're good! Dr. Louis Papillon was a character in one of our very first stories. He was, at the time, a love interest for LuLu, but jilted her for a vampire bat.
Jeesh! The dating scene just never seems to get any better, does it?
Yu can say that again.
I know, but I'd rather not.
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