Tonight! Morey and his friends continue to enjoy themselves in Canine Haven, but Morey knows the fun won't last for long. (Photo by Beth Javens) 
posted by LuLu @ 10:58 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~
Friday, February 09, 2007
Tonight! Morey and his friends continue to enjoy themselves in Canine Haven, but Morey knows the fun won't last for long. (Photo by Beth Javens)
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
- Nagging questions about Gwendolyn continue to pla...
- Meanwhile, Marco gets into the act. (Photo by J.M...
- While a homesick Moxie must suffer the sting of r...
- In the spirit of diversity, Lincoln Park gets its...
- Jade Jardine and Lily leave for Daytona Beach -- ...
- Sometimes a dog can get lost, but he'll eventual...
- ...and Sammy Chan is about to have his paws full....
- Despite being newly tether-tied to a foxy chipmun...
- Lily gives LuLu her blessing from the LilyMobile,...
- Have Morey and his friends at long last found Uto...
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RECAP: The Sade has sent Morey and his friends off to the village of Canine Haven, where purebred dogs rule -- and one rules more than most. Sir Wellington Molosser, a handsome English mastiff, has been casting puppy-eyed looks of adoration in Dr. Daisy's direction, but his highborn cousin, Entlebucher Sennenhund, is having none of it. Now Morey, who's anything but highborn, may be in a fix, unless he can bark his way out of it.
See the most recent adventures of Morey at 14/01/06 in our archives.
"What about this fellow here?" asked Harvey the dog whisperer, casting a disdainful glance at Morey - the kind of glance that made him feel like a damaged item at an Odd Lots fifty-percent-off sale.
Sir Wellington gave a low growl. "Morey is a direct descendant of the ancient dogs of Lapland," he informed the tabby-cat man in a biting tone. "His bloodlines are impeccable."
Harvey's jowls quivered as he once again looked Morey over from stop to hock.
"Oh, well," he said at last, "they're letting just about anyone into the kennel club these days. Why, even a few designer dog breeds have recently been given full status. I don't know what the world's coming to -- but then I'm only human."
"Perhaps it's time you remembered that, Harvey," Sir Wellington snarled. "You're human, which means your family tree is likely to be no sight for sore eyes. Even a third-world street dog has the advantage over you."
Harvey fished a wrinkled handkerchief out of the back pocket of his madras shorts and wiped his dripping brow. "Some temperatures for this time of year, huh? Okay, Wells, what breed is your friend here again?"
"I'm an Elohssa," Morey told him. "My ancestors sailed with the Vikings. In fact, my grandfather was born in Minnesota."
"What nonsense!" barked Sir Wellington's cousin, Entlebucher Sennenhund, known to her intimates as Ente. "If that creature is anything but a mutt, then I'm a CHUG."
"A what?" Woodrow asked.
"A Chug," said Harvey. "A cross between a Chihuahua and a pug. A designer dog," he explained.
Ente snorted.
"Morey is not a mutt," vowed Woodrow. "I've known his family for years. Take my word for it, their blood is as blue as the fjords of Norway."
"I thought he came from Lapland," said Harvey.
"Whatever," arfed Dr. Daisy, doing her best to ease the tension in the air. "Morey is one of us, I assure you." And she batted her long eyelashes at everyone but Ente, whose tension levels rose along with her hackles.
Suddenly, Sir Wellington woofed angrily, and stood pointing back toward his towering doghouse.
"Good Dog! It's my humans. What are they doing out here on the lawn without my written approval?"
All heads turned as a pair of scrawny, jittery people dressed in rags crept nervously toward the gathered pack. They both knelt in supplication when they were a few feet from Sir Wellington, and the woman began to cry.
Ente gave a bark of disgust. "At least they don't have their disgusting children with them," she said, and averted her eyes.
Story continued below...
"Sir Wellington," whimpered the man, "we ask for your understanding. It's been weeks since we've see high tail of you or Ente and we've been working so hard."
"Oh, tell it to the jackals!" barked Ente, turning her back of the pathetic homo sapiens.
Sir Wellington's bark was colder than a breeze off a glacier unaffected by global warming. "All requests go through Harvey," he said. "That's what I pay him for."
Harvey nodded and stepped forward, taking the woman by the arm, but she shook him off.
"We can't afford to pay for another extension on your doghouse," she wailed. "We're out of money! We're starving!"
"Oh, dear me," said Harvey the dog whisperer. "Am I really hearing what I think I'm hearing? Do the two of you actually want to deny your dogs something they've asked for?"
The man cringed and started biting his nails, but the woman remained defiant. "We can't afford to put gas in our SUV or pay our kids cell-phone bills. The truth is, we sold one of the kids last week. We're surviving on cat food and Little Debbie Donuts." She inched closer to Sir Wellington. "Have you no mercy?"
"Handle this," the big dog told Harvey. "Now, Daisy, I think it's time I showed you my new exercise room. There are robotic bunnies at the end of every treadmill.
Sir Wellington no longer sounds too appealing.
"Wellington," said Dr. Daisy, "look at those poor humans. They're eating the grass on your lawn."
Sir Wellington whipped about, his ears laid back. "You silly creatures -- cut that out!" he woofed menacingly. "Harvey, get them under control and back to their shed. I am attempting to entertain guests here."
"Come on, people," called out Harvey. "I'll get you some nice cereal to gnaw on, and for a real treat, I'll bring you up to snuff on all the Anna Nicole news. How's that sound?" He dropped into the play position and clapped his hands.
The man crept over to him and began to whimper, but the woman ran off toward the doghouse.
"I won't be treated like this!" she cried. "I'm a person. I have opposable thumbs, for God's sake! A couple of years ago I got my master's degree. Now I live in a shed like an animal!"
"Kimberly," said the man, "don't make a scene. You know what could happen -- they could send us back to obedience school."
The woman trembled and raised her grubby, grass-stained fingers to her lips. "Oh, no! Not more reruns of 'Are You Being Served' -- I couldn't....I just couldn't handle it."
"Worst case scenario," said Harvey, "we could take the dogs away from you. You really wouldn't like that, now would you, Kim?"
The woman's shoulders sagged, and she buried her face in her long, matted hair.
"Please don't take the dogs away from us," pleaded the man. "We would be ruined socially if you did that."
"It's true," sobbed the woman. "We'd never be invited to another dog wedding, or be allowed to watch the show at Westminster with our pitiful circle of exhausted, coffee-gulping friends. We wouldn't be allowed to enter a Starbucks!"
Harvey gave Sir Wellington the high sign as he led the humans away. The woman was wiping her nose on her hair, and the man was licking Harvey's shoe.
Story continued below...
Story continued...
"Don't you think you were, well, just a little hard on them?" Dr. Daisy asked their host.
"Certainly not!" responded Entlebucher Sennenhund. "Puppies and humans must be taught manners, and the earlier the better. Why, did you hear the way that female human talked to us? We are her dogs!
Personally, I think both of them should be soundly thrashed, but Harvey is into gentle training, and Wellington is far too lenient."
Her cousin shot her a mild look of long suffering.
"Exactly how does this scene work?" asked Morey. "The humans have no rights at all, I guess?"
"Dear fellow, what do you mean by rights? This is Canine Haven, and we dogs are the masters here.
"It all started out more than a decade ago," Sir Wellington explained. "We purebred dogs became status symbols, and people paid obscene amounts of money for us. Obscene for the time, that is. Humans went canine crazy. Why, for a while some very nice half-mutts, called 'designer dogs' were all the rage, but it wasn't long before people came to their senses -- and right back to us."
"And purebred dogs became kings?" said Woodrow.
"More or less. In a short time, humans started giving up their gas-guzzling sports utility vehicles, expensive boats, ridiculous electronic gadgets -- all the extraneous nonsense they once considered important, to invest their time and money in US, and in making our lives blissful."
"These days, if they don't give us everything we ask for," added Ente, "we can be taken from them and given to somebody else. Anyone who gives up a purebred dog loses all his or her status points, of course, and becomes a virtual pariah. Most of them wind up as suicides, which seems the sensible thing to me."
"You know, Daisy," said Sir Wellington, his eyes sparkling. "I think one of the Bills might be interested in you."
"One of the Bills?" She looked confused.
He wagged his tail. "Gates or Cosby. Bill Cosby's dog recently came in second at Westminster, and with the right backing, you're certainly lovely enough to enter, dear Daisy."
"WELLINGTON!" snapped his cousin. "It takes more than a pretty face to win at Westminster."
"Bet she never pulled it off," Morey whispered to Woodrow.
Entlebucher Sennenhund growled at them.
Story to be continued next week...
You should put up a pix of the sennenhound. There are more breeds out there I've never heard of.
I missed this the first time!
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