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, March 16, 2007

Will Morey and Dr. Daisy get to Woodrow in time? And what about Entlebucher Sennenhund? (Photo by Beth Javens)

8 Comments:

LuLu said...: Bringing our readers up to snuffle: In the last episode, feeling rejected by Sir Wellington Molosser, Dr. Daisy fled the protective walls of his doghouse, and incurred the ire of his jealous cousin, Entlebucher Sennenhund -- who made certain the police would be on the lookout for her -- with orders to shoot her on sight. As Ente barked her story to Sir Wellington, Morey, and Woodrow -- the crackle of gunfire was heard, followed by a horrible stillness.

Story continued below...; 1:32 AM
LuLu said...: Story continued...

Woodrow fainted.

"My Dog, Ente!" barked Sir Wellington. "What have you done?"

"I will personally rip out your throat, you bitch!" vowed Morey, getting set to lunge.

"But, Wellington," yelped his cousin, "I did it for you! She stole the family silver! She..."

She also stole my heart," admitted the great mastiff, his head hung low. "If anything has happened to Daisy, Ente, believe me -- I will send you to the pound without a backward glance. As for you..." he turned to Harvey, the dog whisperer.

"As for you, I think it's time you learned to whisper to cats!"

Let's go," he said to Morey. "We may still be in time to save Daisy."

And off ran the two dogs, leaving behind them a pudding-kneed dog whisperer, a hysterical sennenhund, and an unconscious bulldog who adored Daisy with all his heart.

"This way!" howled Sir Wellington, leaping the wall which bordered his estate. "I think the shots came from the woods down by the beach!"

Morey wasn't sure where the shots had come from -- all he could think about was Daisy -- his Daisy of the large, soulful eyes...the laughing pink mouth...the golden hue of her coat. Gone now? Cut down in a matter of seconds?

Morey's life hadn't been an easy one. His mother abandoned him under a bridge almost the minute she brought him into the world, his first master died a drunk, and the last one had been turned into a werewolf. Morey became a cynic at the age of six months.

But to lose Daisy in such a horrible way? The thought was too much to bear. As he hurried along at Sir Wellington's flank, he realized just how much he really did care for the beautiful Golden Retriever. In fact, he cared so much, he was willing to back off and let Sir Wellington leash lock with her. Only, please Dog, let her be alive.

"There's a crowd down on the beach!" barked Sir Wellington. "The para-vets are there! So are the police -- with their guns still drawn."

Morey's heart sank even further. Someone had been shot...Daisy hadn't escaped...

The human police, along with their canine unit, all stepped aside respectfully as Sir Wellington charged across the sand. He saw a small crumpled body lying under a blanket...a set of long ears...

"Who the kennel is that?" he demanded.

Story continued below...; 1:47 AM
LuLu said...: Story continued...

"It's that agitator fellow, Sir Wellington," replied the head of the canine unit -- a handsome Doberman with eyes as sharp as steak knives. "It's Karl March."

"The RABBIT?"

"Where's Daisy?" growled Morey, his hackles up, ready to take on the Doberman, or the entire canine unit, if necessary.

"You mean Dr. Daisy?" asked the Dobie, twitching his tail. "She's over in the animal-control van -- chained and muzzled. I know you gave us the order to shoot her, sir..."

"I NEVER DID!" snarled Sir Wellington. "If she has been injured in any way..."

"Oh, she hasn't been," promised the Dobie. "We found her here on the beach, tending to the bunny. We arrested her, of course, and she'll be on her way to the pound in a few minutes, and put down before morning. A genuine pity, that. I realize she's a vicious thief, but she seems like a real lady...and her being a doctor and all..."

"She's OK?" barked Morey. "Daisy's all right?"

But Sir Wellington was already lunging across the beach, heading for the animal-control van...already barking for Daisy.

"Is the rabbit a goner?" Morey asked the Dobie.

"Nah," replied the other dog. "The para-vets will patch him up. One of the human rookies got a little trigger happy and mistook him for your friend Dr. Daisy. Karl March is missing most of his cotton-tail, but otherwise he's likely to be fine."

Morey suddenly realized that his legs felt as shaky as a dog trot along the San Andreas Fault. He flopped down and laid his head on his paws.

"You OK, buddy?"

"Yeah," he told the Dobie. "I kind of guess I am. I guess I am now."

With a nod, the Dobie trotted off to help the para-vets load Karl March onto a tiny gurney.

"Come the revolution!" screeched the rabbit. "Come the revolution and heads will roll!"

"That is one mad March hare," commented the Dobie, padding back to Morey.

"Yeah," agreed the mutt, relieved enough to grin. "Let's just hope your rookie human didn't blow the tail off the Easter Bunny."

Story continued next week.; 2:01 AM
LuLu said...: If you would like to read our current story from the beginning, you might try clicking on our archive date 4/02/07 and going from there. Enjoy!; 2:22 AM
LuLu said...: "Daisy is resting comfortably now, Sir Wellington," said the obsequious human veterinarian, all but curtsying to the pacing mastiff. She was a tall, narrow woman who looked like a whippet walking upright.

"She refused any sedation, although Mr. Woodrow agreed to an injection, and it took two to calm down your cousin, Ms. Sennenhund." She took off her granny glasses and rubbed the bridge of her pointed nose.

"I'm afraid poor Harvey had to be hospitalized."

"Serves him right!" declared the big Molosser. "I was overly harsh with Ente, though, and I'll have to make it up to her. Of course, my main concern is Daisy."

"How about that wretched rabbit?" asked Morey, who lay sprawled in the parlor next to the fireplace, watching his host pad to and fro. "It's not every day a guy gets his tail blown off."

"Who cares about a rebellious rodent?" barked Sir Wellington. "Can I see Daisy now?"

The vet shook her head, stared down at her oxfords, looked nervous. "I'm afraid she doesn't want to see you. In fact, she told me to give you this..." and she held out a small silver bowl.

"I gave that to her!"

"Well, she said I was to tell you, and I quote -- 'this is the only family silver I ever took.'"

Sir Wellington growled in despair. "This whole thing is nothing more than a bad misunderstanding." He turned to Morey. "What am I going to do? What if Daisy never woofs at me again?"

Morey got to his paws and stretched. "Did she say anything about not seeing me?" he asked the vet, who shook her head.

Story continued below...; 1:02 AM
LuLu said...: Story continued...

"Tell her I love her!" barked Sir Wellington, as Morey left the parlor and padded up the grand staircase which led to the second floor of the mastiff's enormous doghouse.

A moment later he was pawing at Daisy's door.

"Who is it?"

He popped in through the pet door. "It's me, Daze. I just want to find out how you're doing. You had all of us pretty doggoned nervous with your recent vanishing act."

She was lying in her large pen, on a silk-lined pillow atop a feather mattress. A bowl of drinking water sweetened with a bit of mint had been placed a nose-length away for her convenience; the rich velvet curtains had been pulled halfway closed.

"WE?" she inquired.

Morey sat down in front of the pen. "Yep. Me, Woodrow...and Sir Wellington, who asked me to tell you that he loves you. He really does, you know, Daisy?"

She lifted her golden head and snorted. "Do you know the police had orders to shoot me on sight?"

"That wasn't his idea, Daze. It was all Ente's doing. Sir Wellington threatened to send her to the pound if anything happened to you -- and then he charged off to find you."

She raised her chocolate brown eyes to his. "He did? Really?" And she took a lick of water.

"Really. Daisy, the dog is besotted with you. Please don't be so hard on him."

She glanced down at her long, slender paws. "You have no idea how humiliating it was to be thrown into a pound van -- and chained against my will. I heard one of the humans say I was going to be put down. How do you think it made me feel?"

"Daisy, there's no way in a million field trials Sir Wellington would have let that happen. Ever. Why, he even made certain all the other dogs in the van got released when you did."

She sniffed. "Yes, that was good of him."

"And he's paying for Karl March's surgery."

"Well, he should!" insisted Daisy. "The poor little rabbit. He was nibbling on some plants down by the beach when I went running by -- and they blasted him instead of me. It was awful!"

"Karl will be all right," Morey soothed her, thinking all the while how glad he was that the revolutionary rabbit was the one to take the hit in the tail instead of Daisy.

"Will you at least let Sir Wellington come up here and bark at you?" Morey asked her.

Daisy took another lick of water. "Well..."

The flap on the pet door flew open, and Daisy's mini-poodle French maid darted in. "Madame! Fire! We must flee!"

Morey ran to the window and nosed the curtains aside. Daisy was right behind him. "Look!" she howled. "It's Ente up on the roof-- just like the mad wife in Jane Eyre."

"Look over there!" barked Morey, pointing (in excellent form) to a hip-hopping female rabbit who was holding a pretty basket with a little gas can tucked inside.

"Why, it's Mrs. Karl March!" yelped Daisy.

"Madame! The left wing is on fire! We must flee!"

Morey and Daisy exchanged glances, then bolted out of the room. Woodrow's room was at the end of the long hallway, and they charged toward it through a pall of smoke.

Story continued next week.; 1:23 AM
LuLu said...: "Daisy!" barked Morey. "Daisy! Go back! The smoke's too thick! We'll never make it into Woodrow's room!"

"But we have to try!" she howled, then coughed. "We have to try to rescue him!" And she pushed past Morey.

"Daisy! Watch out!"

There was a splintering sound, and a ceiling beam toppled forward.

"Daisy!"

"I'll get her!" barked Sir Wellington Molosser, charging onto the scene. "Wait! She's unconscious! Help me drag her out!"

The powerful English mastiff and the all-American mutt worked together to haul the beautiful Golden retriever through the smoke and past the flames, which licked at their coats like an eager cat lapping at spilled cream.

By the time they managed to make it down the stairs and out onto the front porch, both dogs were scorched and sooty, but they were able to haul Daisy onto the lawn and out of danger.

She coughed and began to stir.

"She's all right," said Morey. "What the kennel happened, Sir Wellington? Did Mrs. Karl March set the fire, or was it your cousin Ente?"

The great Molosser hung his head. "I can't believe this of Ente. I honestly can't. I know she was jealous of Daisy, and I did threaten to send her to the pound, but I can't believe she would do something so...so vicious. It's completely unlike her."

Morey doubted that, but made a stab at consolation. "Then I guess it was a revenge play by Mrs. March. Frankly, considering the amount of times she's reproduced, I'd think she'd be dog-damn glad to see her husband get his tail blown off."

"What happened?" asked Daisy. "Why is it so hot out here?"

"Lie back and think of chasing croquet balls, darling," soothed Sir Wellington. "You're out of danger now."

Story continued below...; 1:14 AM
LuLu said...: Story continued...

Daisy was out of danger, thought Morey, and so were Entlebucher Sennenhund and Woodrow. Far, far out of danger.

Morey felt sick -- as sick as he'd often felt as a puppy, forced to search for food dropped in back alleys -- food so old and rotten it had been refused by stray cats, rats, and Vogue models.

He and Woodrow had shared an odd kind of friendship -- and Woodrow had betrayed him once, although he'd long since made up for the lapse. Things just wouldn't be the same without the erudite bulldog hanging around, he realized.

Morey looked up at the blazing doghouse, threw back his head, and began to howl. He howled for his lost buddy, for both his lost masters, for the mother who had abandoned him under a bridge when he was only a few days old. He even howled for Entlebucher Sennenhund.

And he cursed the Sade, the cruel puppet master, who had sent him and his friends, Daisy and Woodrow, to this twisted-mirror version of the friendly town of Lincoln Park.

All at once another howl matched his own.

Sir Wellington ceased his foreplay with Daisy's forepaw. "Why, that's Ente's howl!" he woofed, and his tail began to wag.

Daisy sat up and yelped.

Morey gaped.

A large, soot-covered hound darted across the blackened grass, her eyes flashing.

"Ente!" barked Sir Wellington. "Ente! You're alive."

"No thanks to any of you!" she snarled. "If it hadn't been for Woodrow the bulldog, I'd be as sizzled as an Oscar Mayer wiener by now."

Morey leaped to his paws. "Woodrow's alive?"

"He was when I last saw him," said Ente.

"Well, where is he, then?"

"He ran off to save the books in the library," she told him. "Can you imagine? Books! He risked his life to save a bunch of books!"

But Morey was already running back toward the smoking ruins of the doghouse -- already barking for his buddy.

Story continued next week.; 1:25 AM

LuLu's Desperate House Dogs (formerly the Bow Wow Blog)

: 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~

View my complete profile

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

LuLu's Desperate House Dogs (formerly the Bow Wow Blog)

Friday, March 16, 2007

8 Comments:

LuLu's Desperate House Dogs (formerly the Bow Wow Blog)

About Me

Previous Posts