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~

Thursday, April 12, 2007

 Air Ace Burt Bismark wants Jade to join the Mile High Club. (Photo by Mark Taylor) Posted by Picasa

posted by LuLu @ 12:30 AM 

2 Comments:

Blogger LuLu said...

From the Black Box on Moxie's jet...

So there I am, filling out the usual pre-flight forms at Lincoln Park International, when I look up and see this senCEEational Great Dane bitch glide in with a scruffy possum at her side.

HeyHey! I think. Now here's a bowwow with the endurance of a Gulfstream 550, and the looks to match.

Me? Eh, I used to settle for anything that hopped off Hooters Air. You know what I mean? I'd share a bone with any bitch who'd fall for a pickup arf like -- "Want to cross the international dateline with me, baby?"

But this Dane's got class. It stands out like the welts on the possum's nose. And what's a bitch like her doing with a mangy possum? Sometimes you gotta wonder, and sometimes not for long.

There's a rat in a T-shirt and a swami turban who scurries in after them. "You owe me thirty bowsers," he squeaks, the eternal rat, and the possum offers his credit card.

"It's all I've got," he says. "The Marsupial One card is accepted everywhere."

But you know what rats are like. "Bowsers only!" the rat tells him, baring his pointed yellow teeth.

Meanwhile, the bitch with a tail section to roll over and play dead dog for tries to attract the attention of the woodchuck at the information desk, but he's overloading on cupcakes.

She barks, he burps, and goes back to watching the Nature Channel, while consuming enough sugar to give a herd of elephants diabetes.

"George sent me!" she howls hysterically, alas to no avail.

The action gets really hectic about now. In come a good half-dozen Borzois with big, bad guns that don't go pop. You know, a scene to give any mutt the colly wobbles.

The rat squeals and points, and part of the group takes off after him, while the rest make like the light brigade and charge the bitch and her friend, the Ranger Rick reject.

I decide to add one good deed to my misspent youth, and prance directly in front of the Borzois pursuing the bitch. "March to the beat of your own dog tags, fellas," I tell them, "but don't step on my paws doing it."

They look confused, so do the sensible thing and aim their guns.

Story continued below....

1:04 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story continued...


All of a sudden there's a motorcycle in the middle of the terminal, and this feral spaniel is on it. He's chasing the bad dogs all over the place, and they're dropping their guns and yelping like puppies tangling with a streetwise tomcat.

"Jump on, Burt!" he tells me, and I realize it's my boss, Moxie Rothschild and Roquefort.

I oh so love it when he goes completely off the leash!

We flash across the terminal at warp speed, and at the last second, the Mox and I jump off the bike and send it spinning straight at the Borzois.

"Dog!" barks Moxie. "Jack Bauer couldn't do it any better!"

By this time, the Great Dane with legs so skinny and sexy they ought to be illegal is outside, hiding with the possum behind a load of cargo. We gallop down to collect them.

"Jade!" arfs the Mox. "Jade, it's me, your stepbrother."

Stepbrother? I can't help but inwardly howl with delight. Even scared half to death, with dirt all over her paws, this bitch is for certain one in ten-thousand litters. A babe worth throwing the Iditarod for.

"Let's go," I tell her. "Your winged chariot awaits, dainty Dane."

But the friggin' possum balks. "Excuse me, I have a phobia about flying. You see, I once fell out of a plane over the Andes..."

A bullet clips his whiskers. "You got a phobia about that, too?"

"Hurry up, Shamus!" barks Jade, and we make it to the aircraft with at least ten whole seconds to spare.

"I'm Burt Bismark," I tell the bitch of my lustful fantasies, as the Borzois cross the tarmac and try to rush the plane, "your brother's pilot, and your would-be copilot for life, my harlequin heartthrob."

We hunker down for takeoff. The Borzois pursue us, barking in Russian. I wag my tail as I catch Moxie giving the entire pack the paw. "USA!" he chants. "ASPCA!"

We lift off. Jade howls with gratitude. The possum breaks wind.

"You saved our lives," says Jade to her BROTHER.

"Do you have a mop?" asks the possum, clutching at his belly.

"Why?" I ask him, just as our flight attendant Daphne happens by.

"Coffee, kibble, or EWWWWW!" she yelps.

Yeah. Right. Like nobody has to draw a picture for flydaddy Burt.

1:18 AM  

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