Jade Jardine finally gets to meet the family. (Photo by J.M. Hilton)
posted by LuLu @ 10:34 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~
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
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
- Now that she's back from Nepal (via Paris) will li...
- As winter begins in Lincoln Park, Chester Samoyed,...
- Rush and Randhi are also back in Lincoln Park and ...
- And LuLu might be about to find herself stuck betw...
- Moxie is named the "Sexiest Dog Alive" by Mammal M...
- ...and Blue Girl dreams~ (Photo by Lisa Bratton)
- Coming up! Lily's Aunt Lucinda arrives in Lincoln ...
- Morey the Mutt's column makes no sense, meaning it...
- Lily recovers from 'avian distemper' at her leisur...
- Gracie the coachdog has plenty to impart to old fr...
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The Eye On The Park...
Dateline Palm Springs, CA:
"Don't push! Don't nip! There's room for everybody!" insisted Belle the Cocker, former Interpup Inspector Snots Cluzo's slick-as-wet grass 'bootyous' bitch assistant; as members of the press pressed into a local animal clinic to (finally) get the skinny on the Lena LaMarr/Shamus O'Possum kidnap-and-attempted-murder caper. (Like you haven't figured it out already?)
And the ultimate bad guy is.....???
Belle paused to crack her gum and take a bite of beef jerky, before grasping hold of the mike with her teeth and making a strange little yipping sound.
"The bad guy is Archie Catt," woofed Snots Cluzo. "Elementary, my dear Watson."
Belle coughed up the mike. "YOU never figured it out!"
"You mean Archibald Catt, producer, director, former Fortune 500 CEO, estwhile dictator of a small island nation, and onetime Stupid Pet Tricks winner on the David Letterman show?" barked out a member of the media while their inane banter kept going. "At least that's what was said about him in the New York Times -- but who believes them?"
"It's all true," barked Belle. "The Times reported the truth."
Gasps, barks, meows, squeals, and oinks filled the room following this shocking disclosure. The puparazzi closed in with their cameras, but a team of Rottweiler guard dogs snarled them back into the bushes.
"An article written by Rush and Randhi, two very bad coyotes, has already been published on that notorious blog, 'LuLu's Desperate House Dogs,'" Belle conceded, looking pissed. "We asked the coyotes to show up here today to act as witnesses for our side -- for the side of justice, Dog, and Country. For decency! But no! LuLu offered them filthy lucre and a couple free dinners at Taco Bell. So they spilled the beans to her first."
There were more gasps from the audience of highly honorable media types, who could hardly believe the shocking news they were hearing.
"How much filthy lucre?" barked an eager beaver.
"Are they still alive?" asked a smiling vulture from CNN.
Belle ignored them. "Basically, here's how the Frisbee got tossed, folks. Archie Catt has long wanted to be the top whisker in a New World Mammal Order, but he lost a war with Lincoln Park. Afterward, he set out to destroy the happy, if somewhat mind-numbing, existence of King Spencer the spaniel, who eventually went undercover.
"King Spencer turned himself into a bitch in order to get the goods on Archie, while the top cat was supposedly making a movie in Lithuania. Spencer was living here at the clinic until just a few hours ago, when he left with his agent, Ms. Monk. All I can really tell you is that he's given up gold lame and resumed his life as a male."
Story continued below...
Below...
"Goody for Spencer!" cried out a Min-Pin from public radio. "But what about Shamus O'Possum? Where's he?"
"As you might expect, he's off somewhere playing 'possum," retorted Belle, with a giggle that went over like a pole-vaulting rhino.
"Stick to the script, honey!" somebody growled.
Snots wagged his tail.
"Archie wanted Shamus dead, otherwise it would have become obvious that he wasn't really making a movie over in Lithuania. Instead, he was making plans to take over the world," Belle explained.
"Why didn't he just get a job with Google?" piped up the Min-Pin again.
"Yeah," squealed a porker from FOX. "Or he might have gone with Coke or Pepsi."
"Can anybody here spell BIG OIL?" howled a lean-and-hungry looking wolf from an alternative blog. "Wake up, you dolts! It's Big Oil and miniature poodles who are taking over the world. By DOG! They're everywhere -- not just on the laps of little old ladies in Miami anymore. The poodles, I mean."
"I'm not saying that world domination makes sense," Belle panted, while Snots Cluzo sat off in a corner, picking his paws and looking very dog in the manger.
"Most normal animals would figure, who'd want it -- right? The environment's a mess. The least appealing of all the species appears to be in charge. But Archie Catt has never been normal. He's cunning and ruthless, thinking only of himself and his needs."
"Sounds like a normal cat to me," oinked the porker from FOX.
Belle plunged ahead. "Chico the Chihuahua was a broken dog after he lost out to a human in the new Juan Valdez coffee commercial, and Selma Hayek returned all of his obsessive fan mail."
"Who is Chico the Chihuahua?" asked the entire audience.
"The dog who subsequently took over Venezuela and now calls himself El Chico," Belle was quick to respond.
"Oh, him," everybody said.
"Archie Catt backed Chico, and it was this dictator, along with the two coyotes -- Rush and Randhi, who wound up dumping Spencer and Shamus in that exotic pet store in LA.
"Thanks to some wonderful, if self-serving witnesses -- like Carbolana the flamingo, and Sonja the sea lion, I was able, with the help of Spencer and Shamus themselves, to finally crack this messy case."
She cut her eyes to Cluzo. "Right, Snots?"
He shook himself awake. "Wh...Oh, right, dear." And he began to lick his privates.
"As I bark," she went on, "Archie Catt is being placed under arrest by Interpup agents, and Dacia the Schnauzer has order the UN to invade Venezuela and take down El Chico."
She finally paused for breath and wagged her tail. "Questions, media mavens?"
But her audience had falled fast asleep.
"NOBODY MOVE."
The media mutts suddenly stirred. There were a few alarmed yelps, arfs, squeals, and bow-wows, as all eyes followed a large California sea lion who wriggled his way toward the front of the room while balancing a large ball on his nose.
"Everybody down!" bellowed one of the Rottweilers. "That's not a ball! It's a BOMB."
Article filed seconds later by Speedy Sackerville, the flying squirrel.....
JADE JARDINE?
Nobody here? When is Shamus coming back? It has been weeks.
Haven't u heard? He's playing possum!
The blog was down again. What is wrong with it?
Mice.
Lily is darling in that picture. Adorable!
She takes wonderful pictures. She has very expressive eyes.
She's got nothing on you, Kabby.
The blog wuz down again? Time to mebbe clean ur cache?
Dog sitting in central Ohio? Now we know where you are located.
They ARE on Lake Erie!
You flunk geography, Anon?
Bomb Threat Update:
In the Phido of time two rough and ready coyotes named Rush and Randhi rushed in, wrestled a certain sea lion to the floor, grabbed the ball and ran with it, allowing it to explode in the desert outside Palm Springs, where it took out two Beavertail cacti and a very confused tourist from Central Ohio.
At that point Cody the Akita, paw in paw with Jessica the hound, arrived at the clinic, and both were furious to discover that most of the reporters had already filed their stories, and their names were not included in any of them.
"What is this?" barked Jessica. "So we're a little bit late. You try working your way out of LAX these days. I almost lost my life helping you out with this case, Belle."
"Yeah," growled Cody, "and I saved her tail on that ship, the ship with VENEZUELAN registration."
He turned to the weary members of the press corps. "El Chico hired me to throw her overboard, you see?"
"But of course he didn't," arfed Jessica. "We plighted our troth and tangled our leashes in the dinghy we used to escape -- but I was followed all through Europe by El Chico's henchmutts, and that's the reason they kidnapped Giles the French bulldog. He was LuLu's sister's boyfriend, and LuLu's little sister helped me out of a fix. They thought he knew where I was.
"We also learned that Rush and Randhi and their confederates were hoping to kidnap Moxie, a plan they came up with on their own," said Jessica, staring hard at the two coyotes.
"No, tailbunk, weez heroes now. Bad guys no mo'," they protested.
"But only because you decided to try and soak Moxie Rothschild and Roquefort on your own," she accused.
"This story is the most confusing tale I've ever heard," howled several members of the press all at once. (They always say the same thing, in case you hadn't noticed.)
"Who's the sea lion working for?"
"I'm not working for anybody," barked the angry pinniped. "I traced Sonja the seal to this address, and I want her back. She's my hot bitcharoony, my can of yummy sardines. She's made me look like a walrus' uncle, and I'm not going to put up with it!"
He turned to Belle. "You turned her against me!"
"I never did!" she protested. "She told me you were stalking her. I merely told her to take back the night and not be the chicken of the sea."
"So you're not working for Archie Catt, El Chico the Venezuelan dictator with a thing for Selma Hayek, and you weren't in on the plot to kill Spencer Hilton (AKA Lena LaMarr) or Shamus O'Possum?"
"I never heard of them bums!"
"When do we get our bowsers?" asked Rush and Randhi.
"You already published your story on LuLu's blog," Belle reminded them.
"Not all of it. The blog's been swallowin' dirt a lot in the past few days. Probably El Chico's doin'. We never got to spill how weez opted to chill with the evil and deal with the good guys. We heroes now -- like Hells Angels doin' toys for tots."
"I think," said Jessica, "that Cody and I deserve some sort of remuneration for our considerable efforts. We're registered at Tiffany's," she told the assembled mob.
Story continued below...
Below, below, below...
"Let me get this straight," oinked the porker from FOX. "All of this -- the entire mess, goes back to Archibald Catt, the orange tabby, who would appear to be the feline Professor Moriarty of the 21st century?"
"Where is Sonja?" barked the angry sea lion while his flippers were being cuffed.
"Professor Moriarty -- he the same as Moriarty the Mouse, works an elevator heist outta Phoenix?" asked Randhi.
"Yeah, yeah," said Rush. "The one pushin' powder puffs and snake bait for the Tail Hike gang."
"No!" snapped Belle.
"That's the pooper scoop, folks, and I, Snots Cluzo..."
"Shut up, Snots!"
"Sorry, dear."
"I am not convinced that Archie is the number one villain on the planet," Jessica protested.
"WHAT?" demanded the members of the stalwart press corps -- barking, meowing, squealing, and oinking in at least twelve different languages.
"We got our story," declared the vulture from CNN. "Now let's get our version out to the pubic before Michael Moore gets wind of it and turns his version into a movie."
Thus our lengthy tale, longer than the tail of a Madagascar lemur...longer than a Russian novel, and one which makes even less sense, at long last comes to a close.
Or does it?
Far away, in Vilnius, Lithuania, a certain lemming stands on a rooftop, thinking morbid thoughts about cliffs....and the sea.
"Lester, they arrested Archie this morning," says Chantilly Khat, she of the petal soft paws and the longest whiskers in Hollywood.
"I'll take care of Tabby and the kittens," he tells her. "Are our henchcats all in place? We don't want Archie to make it out of the cattery alive."
"Of course they are."
"Poor Archie. He was a good cat's-paw for a time, but he wanted too much, my dear, and don't worry about the picture. You'll be starring in a good one this summer. A remake of the old Tom&Jerry cartoon series, with a lot of hot sex sprinkled in with this sado-masochism this time around."
Chantilly Khat twitches those elegant whiskers. Lester is brilliant and ruthless, and she likes that in a male of any species. Being a lemming, he frequently has thoughts of suicide, but so far his psychiatrist has been able to keep his urges under control. One day, however...ah, but that day is far off. The future looks bright for now. Very bright.
"Let's go back downstairs, Lester," suggests Chantilly, "and I'll pour you a nice saucer of cream."
"I hate cream. You know that."
"Oh, well. I'll drink it then."
Developing.....
EwwwwEEEEE.
Be kind to Tabitha and the kittens.
It's not over till the fat chipmunk sings. Isn't Spencer with Wendy?
One thing I haven't understood, and that is is Shamus coming back or not? Or Monika? This is funny but my favorite characters have disappeared.
Central Ohio has ice!
By the bag or by the bucket?
It's windy where I am! Jay, don't go there. Lester Lemming is the bad guy? A suicidal lemming? LOL.
Spencer did go off with the chipmunk, didn't he?
There are so many characters, but most of the story was easy to understand after it was explained. They keep bringing in new characters and I get confused there, but it's not unlike real life.
Real life?
Booyah!
Booyah? Are you and Hooey on some special team?
Booyah jingle! I will try that with Feloney.
Not on this blog, you won't!
Tell Jade I am interested. I believe I have fallen in love.
Hi, Punkin! Too bad Fiver and Deuce aren't here. I know their busy, but I miss them.
I've got an idea that Fiver and Deuce have their paws full. Two dogs staying with them? The weather in Minnesota is pretty bad this time of year, too.
Deuce&Fiver are more than welcome to join me in the Bahamas. They can "bikeraft" down there! It is an open invitation, except for J.
Take me with you! I'm tired of freezing weather.
Don't you live in perfect Lincoln Park, Mollie?
Evidently Lincoln Park is caught up in the Big Chill.
Isn't that the name of an old film noir?
You are thinking of The Big Sleep.
The Big Chill is what you feel from me.
Farewell, my lovely?
The Big Chill was a burner in the eighties, like around when I was born.
U and Kabby r both mad at me, LuLu?
Just having my way with you, Jay.
Try me, LuLu. My bark is bigger.
Nothin like a small dog with a big bark.
Dateline Lincoln Park....
The Asp posts a chapter in her diary:
Lily has been back home for almost a week now, but she's stuck to her pen, refusing to show herself until: A) she could shed a few ounces and get a thorough grooming job, B) she was certain the hyena cubs were well in paw, and C) she has been waiting for a "mystery guest" to arrive.
Sometimes I wonder whatever possessed me to go into business with such a drama queen. Well, the bowsers, naturally, and a certain amount of celebrity. But aside from the obvious glitter biscuits, the perks are few and far between -- rather like being tether-tied to an aristocratic Cocker spaniel who refuses to take his Viagra.
At any rate, late this morning Her Dogdess made an official appearance in the Grand Canine Room, where I stood at the ready, along with the tiny pack of true believers who still support the Church of Lily. Oh, and Aunt Lucinda was there with the hellish hyena cubs -- a much subdued pair of cubs, I am happy to report. In fact, VERY subdued (for them)... and I wonder how she does it.
"You will approach your mother on your stomachs," I heard her tell the spotted horrors. "When you get close to her, you will lick her paws before rolling over on your backs and assuming the submissive position."
"!!!F!!!" yowled one of them, while the other gave out with a hideous hyena laugh. Aunt Lucinda instantly hauled the pair from the room, and when they returned a few minutes later, they were as quiet as tranquilized mice.
(Tranquilized mice with their hair standing on end.)
"No more flashing nasty booty a la Paris and Britney?" I asked Auntie L., whose psychopathic little smile tends to strike a bit of terror into my heart, the truth be told.
"No more oar-and-oyster shots."
"And no attempts to dismember members of our staff?"
"They haven't attempted anything like that in days."
"Thank you, Auntie L."
"You're welcome dear," replied the charming spaniel I would vote most likely to be a trunk murderess.
Story continued below...
Story continued...
At which point a chorus of castrated corgis began to trill, and Lily swept into the room -- her coat gleaming, her eyes sparkling.
The faithful did obeisance to her; the cubs followed suit, licking her paws and calling her "mommy."
Lily wagged her tail at them, but I caught the Joan Crawford glitter in her eye. It wasn't long before she signaled Auntie L. to take the little darlings off for some warm milk and carrion.
"How's business?" she asked me the moment we were alone.
"Only fair," I confessed. "Adopting the hyena cubs was a mistake; I'll admit it, Lily. But we've been able to cover the veterinary bills of their various victims, and Auntie L. is doing a great job of home schooling them."
"I thought they were going to be sent off to a strict military institute?"
"So far Auntie L. hasn't been able to find one up to her standards. You might have a word with her since she is YOUR aunt. By the bark, I love your new perfume."
"Jade picked it out for me," she said.
"Jade?"
"Jade Jardine -- my newly adopted daughter."
I almost reeled. "My Dog! You've gone and adopted another cub, Lily? Have you completely lost your kibble?"
"Jade is a nose," she explained, or rather, did not.
"All dogs have noses, Lily. Aside from warm licks and soulful glances, it's pretty much our major claim to fame."
Lily shook her head until her curly ears (so very like my own) almost went straight. "No, no, no! She's a PERFUME nose, Dixie. I found her in France, sniffing petals."
A large shadow blotted out the sun.
"Mother...?" It was a deep bark but thoroughly feminine.
I turned around on all four paws and beheld Jade.
"Oh, my Dog!" I yelped. "She's taller than Geena Davis. She's...she's...."
"I'm a Great Dane," said Jade simply. And I'll admit, she did have something of a Bergman Nordic look about her -- Ingrid, I mean...not Ingmar.
"Jade's nose can do a lot for Celestial Canine Cosmetics," arfed my not so other-worldly partner, "and she won't attempt to eat the help."
I sat down and extended a paw. "Well, just call me Auntie Dixie, dear." And I slowly wagged my tail.
I apologize for taking over Dixie's story. Actually I didn't. But it IS my blog.
Thank you, LuLu, for your support.
I have decided to change my name too. LOL.
You are welcome, K. When do you leave for the Bammas?
Next week.
Sweet!
Kabby! That's exactly when I'm going!
R u seriously stalking this puppy, "Jay"?
I got a feeling he balked at the word stalking, Molly.
I did no such thing, Jeanie. I am interested in Kabby. Jealous?
Don't touch it, Jav! Jeanie is a baaad babutch.
Home alone again, dawg?
Yup. Playing poker & getting drunk.
Is Jade old enough to date?
Her owner or the dog?
You freaks is hurtin.
Hey there, TWickle. I wondered what you'd been up to. Now I know.
Hey there, TWickle, right back at you! Where in the world are you? I'm guessing you're contacting me at noon your time. Send me a whistle the next time you're between wives and NOT in some place like Taiwan, TWickle~
TWickle? Lulu, what have you been up 2?
Another mystery?
What does TWickle mean?
Are you sure you want to know?
It's nothing too major, folks. My "person" has a few secrets of her own, it would seem.
But mine are so much better.
Catch my act tonight -- or tomorrow morning, as might well be the case -- when the Eye reveals all......about ME, that is~
From the Journal of LuLu the Beagle:
I'm in love again!
It's a feeling as delicious as eating fresh goose poop or rolling in rabbit dung beneath a clear blue sky. And it's so impeccably timed! I'll have a date for Christmas and New Year's Eve.
No sitting alone, chewing on the furniture, while watching the ball drop in Times Square this year. No more last minute relationship counseling, no more wondering where Rockie might be.
Chester is different. He doesn't have a wandering eye and a roaming nose like the King of Lincoln Park, the dog I thought was my own true love for so very, very long.
Arnost, my lover in the Czech Republic, was a sweetheart most of the time, but he was a pesky Cesky when it came to running off after vermin at the drop of a leash. And Moxie was too young, Tanner too indifferent, Spencer has Lily (and she IS my bestest friend, despite our huge age difference); Prince Paco is getting leash-locked to Sydney (who's barely whelped!), I never see Rocko these days, and Buck has become more like a brother, as has Benji. Harmony has moved out of state, and Morey the Mutt has moved to another dimension.
Sydney's handsome relative, Blue, is kind of a hottie -- but no! I need to stay focused. To be constant and true. To sit and stay before I turn three or four and wind up an old maid.
Chester Samoyed is the new love of my life, and that's all there is to it.
"Tell me about yourself," I coaxed him, as we sat in the snow the other night, freezing our anal portals. "I sense melancholy. Maybe it's only because you're Russian, but there's a shadow there. And Kibble! It's cold! Even my pads are freezing!"
He strummed his balalaika. "I rarely notice the weather," he arfed. "And there's not much to tell. You already know that I was born in Russia..."
"Which is why you don't mind the cold," I observed. "But I was born here and I've spent a lot of time in the tropics."
"But my human companion, Alexander, was forever moving from place to place," he went on, lost in reverie, indifferent to my shivering.
"Was he some kind of salesman, or did his credit card bills just get out of hand?"
"He was simply a patriotic Russian!" Chester hung his head, and I saw a tear escape from one eye and turn into ice.
"Would you mind if we huddled in a doorway?" I pleaded. "I'm really cold and starting to worry about hypothermia."
Story continued below...
Story continued...
"Lie down next to me," he offered. "You have a light coat, and I have a thick one."
I didn't need to be asked twice. "So," I said, cuddling up and doing a little paw groping, "you moved around a lot?"
He nodded. "Alexander left me with his brother, Nicolas, three months ago, when he came here -- to America."
"He left you in Russia?"
"No, in France. He had to flee Russia."
"Bummer. But I guess he sent for you?"
"No...Alexander...fell. He was killed."
"OmiDog! Did he slip on the ice or something? Two-footers don't have our incredible sense of balance." And I stuck my nose -- Oh, never mind.
"He fell off the roof of a thirty-story building."
I decided to keep my nose out of his business.
"I could not stay on with his brother," Chester continued. "Nicolas suffers from hemophilia, you see?'
He shifted his weight. I felt a blast of cold air and snuggled closer. He strummed his balalaika, then licked my ear.
"Tell me a little about yourself, LuLu. I don't know much and would like to know...more."
"Oh, I'm just your average little bitch," I lied. "I do have my own blog and write a series of, uhm, puppy books. I manage to keep busy."
"I have heard that you and King Rockie are an item," he said.
"We were," I admitted, "but these days he appears to prefer my younger sister."
Chester stopped strumming. "You mean the one who just returned from France?"
"You know about that?"
"Word gets around. What is her name?"
"It's Blue Girl, although these days she prefers to call herself Bleu, and Rockie can't get enough of her phony French accent."
"Is she thinking of returning to France anytime soon?"
"Not if I can help it, but must we talk about my back-humping sister?"
"Of course not! Forgive me! Believe me, LuLu, I would much rather talk about you...or not talk at all."
Despite the cold, I felt a warm glow, or maybe it was something else.
"You Cossack, you!" I barked playfully, for cold though I was, I'm never frigid.
Take that, King Rockie!
We r fine! It has been a busy week, but we now have our house to ourselves. We want to let everybody know that things are okay here. We went biking last weekend!
Hi, Deuce and Fiver! Happy u are fine! The dogs and I are busy getting ready for Christmas! Spencer is coming home on the blog and that could imply that Shamus and Monika r coming back. Do you think? I do!
It's nice to hear from you, D&F. Cathy, something tells me it may be a while before Shamus and Monica return. We've got a Russian spy in the picture now, and more new characters. LOL.
I am leaving the country on Wednesday -- and hope I won't be spied upon. LOL.
Where will you be staying, Kabby?
I have the feeling I'm not going to get an answer.
You've done been stood up, dawg.
Find a park, J. Life your leg and whistle. Dogs can whistle can't they? Can't dogs whistle?
What do girls want?
U R KIDDDDDDDING!
Something tells me he's not. Run, KKB!
Does nobody suppose these two dogs might get along?
You are the ultimate optimist, Cathy. Altruistic to the end!
No. I realize u have to be careful on lline, but we r supposed to be friendly dogs, aren't we?
Not that friendly, Cathy. I don't blame KKB for being suspicious.
Jav, you bragged about being an ex-con, and now you want to date KKB?
Bad dog! If you were K, would you be interested?
I am a big girl now, K. I will defend you! (giggle)
I need to find a bitch with a sense of humor.
You need to find anybody with a sense of humor.
Yuk! Yuk! That Sandy is a card. U R a pitbull in a parlor of minipoos, J. Imagine KKB is some bimbito of 45 with too much junk in the trunk. Lift ur leg, splash major, and move on.
juncadatrunka can be cool, dude! I like my bitchs solid.
Do you have a first language?
The Eye On The Park...
Dateline Lincoln Park:
It was another lovely day in idyllic Lincoln Park, as a crowd of nine-dozen geese, fifty-five ducks, seven-hundred rodents, a large assortment of songbirds, herds of cats, and pack after pack of canines, lined the streets, trees, and byways, to await the return of Spencer Hilton, once (almost) the Summer King of the LP.
"I understand King Rockie loaned him a limousine," barked Ginger, the German shorthaired pointer, to Minnie, the Maltese. "Have you heard Spencer was working as a spy to catch that weasel Archie?"
"Archie Catt is a feline," protested a weasel named Walt. "Why do you canines always have to stereotype us as bad guys and troublemakers?"
"Oh, look!" exclaimed his wife. "There's Lily up on the palace porch with her sweet old aunt. Doesn't she look beautiful?"
"I see King Rockie's here with that beagle bitch who pretends to be French," grumbled Ginger, whose hackles were still raised thanks to the overweening weasel. "LuLu may be a bit promiscuous, but I like her a lot better than I do her sister."
"I just love her 'Puppies in Love' series," murmured Minnie. "Whenever I see Fabulo, the flat-coated retriever, on the cover of one of her books, it makes my groin itch."
"Lady Dixie Simba doesn't look too pleased to be standing next to King Rockie's latest chew toy," observed Ginger with a snicker, "and who do you think that roll-over-and-play-dead-dog gorgeous Great Dane might be?"
"Here comes the limo!" squawked a crow seated in a nearby tree. "I can see Spencer standing up in the back, wagging his tail!"
Story continued below...
The Eye On The Park...cont'd...
"Lily, how does it feel to be meeting your former crate-mate again after all this time?" screeched Betty Magpie, one of our higher placed reporters.
"Oh, well, you know, it's like, well, I really can't comment."
"What Lily means," intervened Dixie Simba (also known as the Asp) "is that she's absolutely overwhelmed. She's speechless! Right, Lily?"
"Uh, right."
"Who the Frisbee is that with Spencer?" asked King Rockie of his gaggle of attendants.
"It looks like some type of toy breed, my cher," replied Bleu, once known as 'Blue Girl,' LuLu's sister. "Wait un little min-ute! It's a friggin' chipmunk!"
"Oh, sit back on your haunches and stop barking!" snapped Nikki, the hound, one of the more prominent members of King Rockie's kennel. "You're more annoying than a perennial humper with cold paws. But I'll be prong-collared if you aren't right. It IS a chipmunk!"
"Who's the babe?" shrieked Betty Magpie. "I love the mini-mini-mini skirt, and the shoes with ultra-high 'do me' heels. Wait a minute. That's not Nicole Richie, is it?"
Lily, all a-flutter in a cute beret, with a diamond-studded collar and bling-blings on each ear, turned a lighter shade of beige and cream. "Why, that's ... it's Wendy the Chipmunk!"
"You don't mean the snarffy little rodent who once tried to sue you for millions?" asked Dixie. "The one who took Spencer to court for groping her at the Squirrel Roll?"
Lily nodded, and her paws began to shake noticeably. "I thought she was d-d-dead. D-d-damn!"
Spencer hopped out of the limousine, then turned to grasp his tiny companion by the scruff of her neck, before pulling her out of the car. Meanwhile the crowd howled, yowled, squeaked, and squawked for their favorite son, or daughter...considering.
"I understand they had to wean him off gold lame," Ginger confided to Minnie, and at least twelve other mammals. "Who IS that midget with him?"
"Welcome back to Lincoln Park, King Spencer," graciously barked King Rockie, the LP's absolute monarch. "And a further welcome is extended to...uh?"
"Gwendolyn Monk," replied the little chipmunk, popping open a reticule the size of raindrop. "My card."
King Rockie glanced at it. Oh," he said. "You're Spencer's Hollywood agent?"
"I am that," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. "Spencer, dear..."
But he was staring hard at Lily.
"Spencer..." coaxed the dagger-heeled little rodent.
"Uh, oh, yes," he said. "Miss Monk and I are...well, that is, she is, as the two-footers would have it..."
"I'm also his spouse," announced Gwendolyn Monk.
Lily fainted.
Developing.....
We tried to get on earlier and were blocked. Is there something wrong with the blog?
The blog has gremlins.
Good. The blog is back up. Poor Lily! Can u believe the nerve of that chipmunk!
Chipmunks would have to have nerves of iron. They lead such dangerous lives.
They're always winding up getting squashed. They can't be too bright.
I need to get me to the Bahamas.
U need to get your head examined.
He's trying to get his groove back.
Luv Snowman! Oh yes! Wish we had some snow! I like snow at Christmas.
Do u think "Jay" made it to the Bahamas to find KKB? What kind of dog is she? Has she ever said? LOL.
A water dog?
Where is everybody?
Well, KKB is in the Bahamas, and what's-his-name went after her. Maybe everybody else is out doing Christmas shopping?
Is everybody out of town? I guess so!
You are not alone, Cathy, but people and dogs are busy at this time of year. Deuce and Fiver r always busy, and we know of two other dogs who r out of town. Don't worry. I imagine KKB is having a wonderful time in the Bahamas. You bet!
Where do you think J is?
In jail?
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