Attorney General Sammy Chan's grandmother is driving him rabid. (Photo by J.M. Hilton) 
posted by LuLu @ 11:28 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, March 04, 2007
Attorney General Sammy Chan's grandmother is driving him rabid. (Photo by J.M. Hilton)
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
- And what is Suzy Wong Chan's link to Aunt Lucinda...
- Blog hostess LuLu says: "Please help my buddies!"...
- Frozen whiskers and all, Moxie stops by Poppa Poo...
- "Is that a gun in your harness, or are you just g...
- Lovers LuLu and King Rockie reconnect in snowy Li...
- Read the latest installment of Morey the Mutt. So...
- Moxie waits for a shuttle bus at Port Lincoln Par...
- Suzy Wong Chan arrives in Lincoln Park in time to...
- ...and friend Itza Hogg says -- "Just consider me...
- Sammy Chan's grandmother adds some unwelcome stre...
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Dateline Lincoln Park:
Our 'bitch incognito' for LuLu's blog continues to send us updates from the front, AKA Poppa Poochie's Bar...
I was just finishing my shift and having a couple dewclaws of dogwood juice before calling it a night and closing the bar, when in walked the dog of my dreams, Sammy Chan, our local attorney general, and a Pekingese so hot, I'm suprised the pads of his paws didn't set the joint on fire.
"The usual?" I asked him, heart pounding, as he jumped onto a stool.
"Oh, Dog!" he yelped. "Don't tell me I've been in here that often. Now I get the 'usual'?"
I poured him a stiff shot and pawed it across the bar in his direction. (We're not sloppy at Poppa Poochie's, but we figure a dog who comes in at closing time might be willing to eschew the extras -- like cute umbrellas, Greenies in his drink, and all the flies fished out of the bowl.)
"You have been making this a second doghouse of late," I commented, twisting and turning slightly, just so he could see what a great ribcage rack I've got. No mudflapper moves, mind you; just girl stuff. He didn't seem to notice.
"Bitch problems?" I asked, pouring myself another dewclaw of dogwood juice.
"You don't want to know about my problems," he arfed with a devastating smile, and in most cases he'd be right.
Bartenders get kennel sick of listening to every drunken hound bark on and on about his or her tragic love life -- about how some pooch peed in their water bowl and left them, and how they're never gonna find another paragon like the putz who jumped the fence and left them howling.
But I didn't think I'd mind listening to Sammy.
Story continued below...
Story continued...
"You just missed your friend Marco," I told him. "He was in here with that shimmy-assed ferret about an hour ago. Real cozy. They left together."
His large black eyes widened. "What makes you think Marco's my friend?"
"Come on. My mother didn't whelp any stupid litters."
"Marco needs to be more cautious," he remarked, more to himself than to me.
"There was also a cute Maltese, who came in here asking for you. Kind of classy. She your girlfriend?"
"She was," he admitted. "Now that my grandmother's in town, that leash is pretty much untangled."
YES!!!! But I pretended to be sorry about his girlfriend. Sometimes nothing gets to a male dog better than a good ear scratch -- or feigned sympathy about the bitch who got away.
Pretty soon we were barking up a storm and he ordered another drink.
"Your grandmother the lady in the pink stroller?" I asked him.
"Don't tell me she was in here?"
I gave him a nod in the affirmative. "Suzy Wong Chan. She's getting real well known around town. She's always with that pig..."
"I know," he cut in. "Best friends, she says, although I've never known my grandmother to have many friends of any species."
"She seems tight enough with that bitch from the military academy up the road. You know, the one who's supposed to have a computer action figure named for her? She's like Lara Croft, I guess, or was. She must be at least seven or eight years old by now."
"You mean Lily Hilton's Aunt Lucinda?"
I nodded again. "The very same."
"My grandmother knows HER?"
"Seems like. They sniffed each other for a long time and decided to hang for a while. Must have been in here barking for over an hour."
"My grandmother and AUNT LUCINDA?"
He finished his drink, shook his head. I leaned forward on the bar, let my tongue hang out and wagged my tail. I tried not to pant.
His cell phone rang.
He pulled it out of his harness and looked to see who was calling. "Chewy," he said, hopping down off the stool and heading for the door.
Then he remembered -- an afterthought. He turned, came back, and plopped a few bowsers down in front of me. "Keep the change, and thanks for the information."
And with a sweep of his silky tail, he was out the door.
Sigh. It's the story of my life. But since I'm the bartender, who's going to listen to me?
Punkin has to be a corgi! It's canine corgis USA all the way!
I missed something.
Is Punkin a Corgi?
Maybe Punkin will let us know?
I thot Punkin was a cocker spaniel, but that may be cause I know a cocker spaniel named Punkin. He is not a sailer!
I've got a crush on Sammy Chan. Does he really live in Lincoln Park?
I've never seen him, and a dog that cute would be hard to miss.
He's Key West whistle bait for sure.
Ahha! So that's the way the sails are blowing.
Frankly, it's a relief!
I'm not gay. My dog might be but I'm not.
Damn!
Get off it! Nobody believes you clowns.
My favorite pit bull is on line.
I'm flattered, Bret.
So am I.
Its getting deep in here.
I looked through some of the archives but couldn't find out what breed of dog Punkin was. Punkin?
Well, we know that Sammy Chan is a Pekingese! My aunt had two of them and they were the funniest little dogs.
You don't see a lot of them any more. They are nice dogs.
I like the little Japanese Chins. A friend has one and I get to babysit her occasionally.
Pretty soon we're going to need sled dogs! It's to drop to below zero here tonight and more snow is on the way. I'd like to move in with Jay!
Oh, do! With any luck, he'll drop me. You live in Rhode Island, don't you?
Yeah, and I wish I was back in Ohio.
I've lived everywhere, but this is home. Crummy weather.
My cousin lives in Rhode Island. She's been there for years and loves it.
You got a nice tail, Carole?
That was a little pushy, J.
Next time go straight for the whisker biscuits, Jay.
What is this -- a gang of sex maniacs?
Yes.
It's spring, Carole, and we're a pack of old dogs.
You're a pack of old horn dogs whood drop dead if you caught a rabbit.
A Portuguese Water Dog?
I am a proud mutt -- the original Morey.
Punkin is a mutt? For some reason, I am surprised.
I know, but what's wrong with a mutt? They are the best dogs of all.
Pugs! But I will admit I've had some nice mutts in my day.
All the cute male dogs are smaller breeds. Why do I have to be a police dog?
What a question! Police dogs are top of the line. Bet you are a big, beautiful girl with pointed ears and a bushy tail. I'm tiny and bark a lot. You don't have to do that. You can just sit there and people respect you. Dwell on the positives, Stacy!!
My sisters are little and they make me feel bad for being large.
Oh, Stacy, don't feel like that. I'm a big old Chow Chow and I'm happy. Your parents need to take you to a nice dog park where you can meet big dogs like yourself. If you lived in Lincoln Park, you'd have a chance to meet Rottweilers, Great Danes, Golden Retrievers, Labradors,and other police dogs.Look for a nice park and don't be so down on yourself.
You sound like a wonderful dog, Stacy. I know a Standard Poodle mix who would flip over backwards to meet you.
Stacy,
End it with those two dopey sisters and bury the bones in the backyard. If you play your cards right, you can be an only child soon.
Oh that's nice!
Thank you. I have so many redeeming qualities.
In particular, humility.
Wha? Somebody's suffering the tight crotch panty syndrome.
U R a barking moonbat, Jean.
I fond another dog. I like the name Moonbat.
Of course you do, Ken.
Message from Bleu Girl to LuLu:
Hi, Sis,
Having no fun trying to punch dumb "buttons" on this hand-held contraption with my dewclaw & what's worse is that Ive had to fly commercial. Mox has the jet so I fly rump roast. Ok so it's not coach or the cargo hold. (same dif. right?)It's also not a put-ur-paws-up&get-a-massage private job where a girl can relax&shake the mats out of her hair. But OK here I am & Id preciate it if u cd get a car and driver out to LPI. I understand the weather at home sucks & we'll land in about an hour. My paws are bare & I had a pedicure done just before I left France. Thnx B.
E-mail to Sydney the Aussie Shepherd from her cousin, Young Blue Eyes:
Hi, Cuz,
Again, I really want to thank you for setting up the DC job for me. Aussie power, right? Anyway, you didn't have to send me back home on a first-class ticket. Got to tell you, tho -- it's awesome! And please thank Senator Paco for letting me camp out in his doghouse for three days. He's a great dog, and I'm proud to say I'm almost related to him. Re the situation with Chester Samoyed, please let Paco know that I don't hold anything against him for not wanting to get involved there. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, Chester is a little shady, and Paco has his position to consider. Now that my album's been out for a while, and I'm getting better known, I may not even need the job at the restaurant. Between you, me, and the fire hydrant, I'd just as soon let it go. Too many strange characters in and out of that place to suit me. After all, I'm just a nice simple dog who likes to sing for his supper.
There is this drop-dead gorgeous little bitch in a seat across the aisle from me. A beagle. I've been trying to get her attention, but she's been reluctant to cooperate. I did see her sneak a peek at me once when I pretended to be asleep. I hope she's getting off at Lincoln Park, but she's probably flying on through to the coast. She looks very cosmopolitan. Anyway, Syd, thanks again for your help, and for being such a great cousin. Paco, too. Love, BE
Dateline: Lincoln Park International (Also known as PLPI):
Another crap-assed night stuck at the airport! One more soggy bowl of kibble from the takeout counter, and I'm going to pad outside and throw myself under the wheels of a cab. "Work the airport tonight," commanded my editor. "Oh, yeah, like it's cold and sleeting, and if Barack Obama has a dog, it's for sure going to lope its merry way through this place tonight. Uh-huh. Fat chance of that. Not one VIP in six hours. This is a 'terminal' all right -- it's about as exciting as Westminster the day after.
Hello? Hold the phone and the horses! And stop the presses while you're at it. Does my kibble addiction finally have me hallucinating, or is the vision of barely past-puppyhood pulchritude padding her way past airport security for real? Oh, shake that thing, honey! Bow-wow. This doggy doll has got to be the sexiest canine I've seen since -- wait a minute! I know her. My Dog! That's my publisher's kid sister, Bleu Girl, formerly a rogue member of King Rockie's considerable kennel. What the pound is SHE doing back here? I thought she got booted out of the country. And who's the Aussie Shepherd following her with his tongue trailing along the floor like a broken mop? Looks like his hormones are doing somersaults -- then who can blame him? She is one hot beagle bimbo, our Bleu Girl.
"Hey, Bleu, can I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Are you my limo driver? Where's your uniform? And where's the sign with my name on it?"
"Uh, actually, babe, I'm an ace reporter with your sister's blog."
"I have no comment for the press."
"Come on, Bleu, what are you doing back in Lincoln Park?"
"No comment."
"Be nice to me and I'll give you some good PR. As I recall, you could use it."
"If you come any closer, I'll bite you. I also have pepper spray."
"Is there a problem?"
Oh, great. It's the shepherd with the foot-long tongue. "No problem at all. I just wanted to ask Bleu a few questions."
"Blue? Are you sure you don't mean ME? I'm Young Blue Eyes."
"Oh, my Dog! I know you. Don't you have an album out?" Bleu Girl's bark is down to a coo.
The shepherd has eyes the color of robins' eggs, and they light up like his tail is stuck in an electrical outlet. "Yes, I do! It's my very first."
"It's great! I picked it up in France."
"IN FRANCE?"
She wags her tail and shakes a can Jennifer Lopez might envy. "I can't imagine what happened to my driver."
"Well, I'll be glad to give you a lift -- absolutely anywhere."
How 'bout back to France? OK, so gag me. Out the door they scoot, impervious to the cold or the rain or an approaching tsunami.
I hit the takeout counter for a soggy kibble refill.
"Look at it this way," says the hound who takes my bowser, "you've got a job, you're eating, and you didn't get pepper sprayed."
Terrific. In other words, a typical blissful night at the airport. "So , you think Barack Obama has a dog?" I ask her.
Developing -- but not in any hurry.
Blue is still a puppy? Why can't she fall in love with Shamus?
She does look pretty young. They need a new picture. She's cute, though. King Rockie sounds like Elvis!
He sounds like Bill Clinton.
I like those Australian shephards. They're like huskies with blue eyes.
Bleu seems like a dog i could have as a freind. i didn't mean to upset everyone.
You didn't, Stacy. Those aholes like J and Yogitody r creeps, and I meant what I said.
Jean, let's not keep this pot boiling. I'd rather discuss the dogs in Lincoln Park. This is supposed to be a fun blog, not a battleground in the gender war.
Tell them that!
How many choke collars does it take to keep you at the junkyard, Jean?
One should be enough but she might use an extra one as a chew toy.
Not funny. Not even a hee hee or a ho ho.
The blog is back. Guess Jean has magical powers.
What the hell happened?
Jean bit into the universal transformer?
Who is Jean, and what is going on around here? Ken, have you changed your name to 'Jean' in order to cause trouble? I like the story about the beagle and the shepherd, but I'll pass on the current crop of bloggers you've got.
You are right, MM. There is too much backstabbing.
We've been through this before. I figure Yogi and Jay are two young pups just fooling around. This is much better than some of the blogs I've been on. The language is nothing but four-letter words. I hope it won't come to that here.
I'm kind of fed up with them myself.
Are these people local?
Maybe it's you who are making too much out of this, Carole -- and look at what Jean calls us. That's fine, I suppose? I'm not local, Polly. I don't live in Lincoln Park.
Maybe it's time for somebody to rise above it?
I'll rise above it!
Lily has been injured? What happened? Is she going to be alright?
Karen, do you have a dog of your own? If not, you need one.
I honestly and sincerely hope that Lily isn't badly hurt.
What is this? Did you take vows?
Feel better, Lily!
Lily is so regal! I am glad she will be fine.
That picture is a hoot! Lily sure rides in style.
Is it safe for me to come back on the blog?
It's cool, Jean, but can we keep the castration comments down to a minimum?
Alright.
Why am I always alone on Saturday nights?
It's probably your bark, Sandy.
KKB dumped you, I guess?
That dog wouldn't hunt. It was a hot possibility that never materialized.
I could say that about both of my wives.
You a mormon, Sandy?
I have three dogs -and they're pups.
No, I'm not a Mormon, and I'm not Bluebeard. Stick with your litter, Ken. You'll get into less trouble.
I know.
Have you met Jean, Ken?
I wouldn't do that -- not even to Ken! It is possible, I suppose that Jean could turn out to be one of the Pussycat Dolls.
Then go ahead and chase her up a tree!
Daylight Savings Time sucks.
With you on that score, Carole.
I hope you all realize that I was the original pussycat doll.
Tell Yogibare that. Doesn't he have a cat?
My mother was a bunny.
Honestly? My father was a tortoise.
Was he ever at the Playboy Mansion?
She was a bunny but not a rabbit, was she?
My father might have gone to the Playboy Mansion. He used to get blitzed on the weekend and then he'd come out of his shell.
KKB's mother was a bunny? Pardon me while I hyperventilate.
Get a grip, Jay. KKB might look like her father, and he could be a wild boar.
Only Google advertisements will be posted on this blog. All others will be promptly deleted.
It must be leprechans.
Early April Fool?
Was your mother really a bunny?
She was, and contrary to the myth that most of the bunnies were brainless twits, she used the money she accumulated to go back to school and became a CPA. That does not mean 'Carrot Patch Animal' in case Jay is online.
I have a cousin who was a bunny, and she has a daughter who is a hen. Figure that one out!
You were brought up in a barnyard?
That is a magnificent picture of Lulu. It slmost looks like an Alfred de Balleroy oil painting!
You're right, Margaret. Lulu is looking a good deal more mature these days. She's certainly very pretty. Did your cousin's daughter donate her eggs, Carole? I know someone who did that, and they called her a hen.
I can believe your mother is a CPA. You're sharp, KKB, and exactly right.
YETCH!
Come on! You eat them scrambled.
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