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, June 29, 2007

TONIGHT ... "The Maltese Chew Toy," starring Sam Spencer, continues..." (Photo by J.M. Hilton)

posted by LuLu @ 10:47 PM 

5 Comments:

Blogger LuLu said...

The Maltese Chew Toy (cont'd)

Brigid stared at Sam and he stared back at her. "I don't suppose you've ever made a mistake in your life?" she asked.

"I've made plenty," he told her, "but I've never murdered anybody."

"Neither has Daddy Gatthamer," she insisted. "Now he's sick, and Florinda needs those jewels in order to hire a new mouthpiece for him. The old one stepped in front of a bus -- and she HAS to get Daddy out of Alcatraz!"

Sam stood up and shook himself off. Most of Brigid's tale sounded about as plausible as a fifty-cent nickel, but that didn't mean he wasn't interested in making the most of whatever she had to offer.

"Any idea where this mutt Thor might have taken your sister?" he asked her.

Eyes bright, she nodded emphatically. "There's a man -- he used to be our chauffeur. His name's Floyd Munsday, and he absolutely adores Thor."

"Doesn't say much for his taste in pets," Sam observed wryly. Brigid ignored the comment.

"He has a house over on Bush Street, not far from where it roofs Stockton, and then slips downhill to Chinatown. You can't miss the place. There are weeds in the yard, and a dead tree that once got struck by lightning is right outside the front door."

"How do you know all this?" asked Sam. "Are you tellling me you strolled over there one fine day just for a bit of fresh air?"

She never missed a beat. "I went there once with Daddy Gatthamer. He and Floyd were more than employer and employee, you see. They've always been good friends.

I'll bet, thought Sam. From what he'd heard, Bugsy Gatthamer didn't have good friends. In fact, he didn't have friends, period. "And if I find your sister and her boyfriend living with this two-footer Munsday, just what is it you expect me to do about it?"

Brigid looked surprised. "Why, I expect you to get the bird from them. Naturally, I'm worried sick about my sister -- but I really want that chew toy!"

Sam hid a smile. He had to paw it to this bitch. So much for sisterly devotion, he thought, as he flopped down and picked up his slipper again. A drop of rain smacked him lightly on the nose.

"Are you going to take my case or not?" demanded Brigid, and it pleased Sam to note that the self-possessed little Maltese was getting fidgety.

Not bothering to reply, he bit through the toe of the slipper. When he finally looked up, he saw that Brigid's eyes were hot as lead. She was angry and she was nervous.

"I haven't said no, sugar biscuit," Sam drawled, "but exactly what's in it for me?"

She opened her rosebud of a mouth and let out a sharp bark. A moment later a tiny pug came prancing down the alleyway. He was carrying a large pink box held together by two brightly colored strings which he had clenched between his teeth. He was dignity personified.

Brigid acknowledged the pug with the barest quiver of her elegant tail. "Show him the goodies," she commanded.

Story continued below...

11:30 PM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story cont'd...

The pug daintily placed the box in front of Sam, who saw from the fancy label on the lid that whatever was inside came from Cole's, one of the city's finest and most expensive food emporiums. Sam's nose began to dance.

"Voila!" said the pug, as he lifted the lid with his firm little paws. Inside, Sam saw a fully cooked turkey wrapped in paper so fine it looked like silk.

"And this is just the beginning," he heard Brigid say. "Have you ever tasted liver pate, Sam -- or fresh lake trout? Or how about steaks so tender you barely have to chew them?"

"Cut it out, you're killing me," Sam protested. Meanwhile, his nose was twitching like a junkie's nervous system, as he inhaled the delicious aroma of the fowl before him.

"There are some tasty greens beneath the bird," the tiny pug informed him in a voice so cultivated, Sam wondered why he wasn't wearing a monocle.

The pug was coal black, with gentle ebony eyes and the agreeable expression of a superb head waiter.

"Who the kennel are you?" Sam asked him.

Brigid took it upon herself to answer. "Meet my friend Cairo. Florinda named him for her hometown of Cairo, Illinois. She pronounces is KAY-RO, but I prefer the classier Egyptian pronunciation."

The pug gave Brigid a look of naked adoration, which made Sam pity him. Poor mutt! he thought. However you pronounced it, KAY-RO or Cairo had obviously been neutered, and that meant his relationship with the bitch he idolized had to remain platonic -- forever.

A few drops of rain struck the back of the fence, and Brigid said, "All right, what's it going to be, Sam -- a bird for the bird? I'm tired of playing games."

So was Sam, but he let a rumble in the pit of his stomach override his better judgment. "The bird will do for starters. Where can I get in touch with you?" he asked.

Brigid shook her extravagant tail. "Oh, Cairo will be your contact," she replied loftily.

"It will indeed be my very deep pleasure," said the little pug, wagging his curlicue of a tail in evident anticipation.

"Well, it may not be mine," said Sam, ignoring the pug and addressing Brigid instead.

There was a flash of lightning, and the rain began to come down in earnest. Sam stuck his head inside the box from Cole's and sank his teeth into the turkey. When he looked up again, he saw Brigid and Cairo turning the corner at the end of the alleyway.

The pug turned around and offered Sam what looked like a tail wag.

Brigid never bothered to look back.

Story continued next week~

11:54 PM  
Blogger LuLu said...

The Maltese Chew Toy (cont'd)

Effie heaved a sigh of pure pleasure. "I've never eaten anything so delicious in my entire life," she said, and she happily licked her chops.

Sam wagged his tail at her, while considering that her entire life thus far consisted of slightly more than three-hundred and sixty-five days.

And he wondered -- did that most salient fact make him a complete cur?

He was still attracted to Iva; he admitted it. Now Brigid had perked his interest. Effie deserved better, but he was not about to tell her so. Besides, it was a little late in the game for confessions.

Yes, he concluded, he was a complete cur. There was no way around it.

The four dogs -- Sam and Effie, Archer and Iva, were crowded inside Effie's little shed, polishing off the remains of the fat, well-cooked turkey from Cole's, while outside a light spring rain made the city smell almost clean.

"Watch the bones," Iva cautioned Archer. "You can choke on these things." But her concern didn't stop her from crunching down hard on a juicy wing.

"So what do you know," Sam asked Archer, "about Bugsy Gatthamer, aside from the fact he's a mean two-footer who's serving time in Alcatraz for snuffing a fellow gunsel?"

Archer sniffed cautiously at a puddle of peas. He was growing old and becoming too cautious in general, and he knew it.

"He snuffed his own business partner, Sam, meaning he truly is no gentleman. Otherwise, all I know about him is that he likes purebred dogs and hot, impure dames."

Sam scratched at a flea. "That a fact?"

Archer nodded. "He used to be married to a purebred woman, though. She was from somewhere back east. Old human blood, blue as a Chow's tongue...but no money.
Gatthamer thought he could use her to break into San Francisco society, but our fair city slammed its doors in his mug and refused to open them. I understand there was a son, who must be grown by now. I've no idea whatever happened to him."

Sam grunted, helping himself to what was left of the bird's neck. Archer was like an open fire hydrant when it came to spilling out information, which was one plus for having him around.

"Gatthamer's wife was miserable, of course. She absolutely hated the man," Archer went on. "She died a few years ago."

"I hope she didn't suffer," commented Effie, who had a sympathetic side to her nature.

"So do I," said Archer, "considering she was fished out of San Francisco Bay with a bullet hole between her eyes."

Iva dropped a giblet. "How ghastly!"

Archer shrugged. "Her death was ruled a suicide. Six months later her grieving husband married his mistress, a former Tenderloin floozie, presumably with tender loins. Name of Florinda. Next thing you know, he snuffs his business partner and winds up on The Rock."

Iva shuddered. "What dreadful creatures humans can be. With the exception of Miss Caruthers, I can certainly make do without them."

Story continued below...

1:08 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story cont'd...

For a moment no one spoke. The supercilious Sophie Caruthers, whose feelings for Iva did not extend to her friends, was not a two-footer the other dogs admired.

Sam winked at Effie before nudging Iva with his snout. "I see Miss Caruthers has a new boyfriend. He wears expensive leather shoes and very strong cologne. I've smelled him leaving in the mornings."

Iva tossed her curly ears. "Yes, he does wear nice shoes, and he gave her a huge advance on the apartment he's renting."

"All the same," Sam drawled, "I'm surprised she's willing to keep company with yet another tenant. Remember her phony suicide attempt after the last one she got involved with turned out to be a bank-robbing bigamist?"

Iva snarled, and Effie nudged Sam with her paw. "It's stopped raining," she said. "Come on, Iva, let's go bury some bones while Sam and Archer finish the turkey."

"Sweet bitch, your Effie," observed Archer, once the females were out of earshot.

"A sweet bitch also delivered this dinner," Sam pointed out.

Archer sighed. "No, Sam. That was a hot bitch. There's a difference, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam conceded, "but my sweet bitch is going to whelp soon, and I'm depending on the hot bitch to keep us eating for a while." He refrained from mentioning Iva's own delicate condition, which was very likely his fault.

"Brigid," murmured Archer, making her name sound almost as succulent as the turkey leg he had recently devoured. "I'd like to see that sister of hers, Sam."

"Oh, yes, Lola." Sam thumped his tail. "She sounds like a sweet piece of meat indeed, but Thor the guard dog? I don't relish the thought of being chased by a slobbering mongrel like him."

"He may not be so bad," ventured Archer. "You know how bitches tend to exaggerate things, and I honestly would like to see this sister, Sam."

There was something in Archer's tone of voice. Sam looked up. "I was planning to catch a ride on a running board a little later on, head off in that direction, scout things out, and devise a plan of action," he informed his partner.

"Any reason why I can't do the exact same thing?" Archer asked him.

Story continued below...

1:23 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story continued...

Sam wanted to say, YES. Yes, Archer, there is a reason you shouldn't take on this case. You're much too old to be hopping on and off running boards, and dodging vicious dogs twice your size. But he saw the look in his partner's eyes, and reconsidered.

"Well, no, I suppose there isn't any reason," he answered. "You might have to switch running boards a couple of times, and you're likely to pull an all-nighter."

Archer stretched a bit, then shifted his body weight. "Hip's a little sore," he admitted, "but I'm up for this case, Sam. I don't want you to think there's any possible way I'm not up for it."

"I don't think that, Archer," Sam lied. "I think you're a smart dog and a good detective."

The unexpected praise settled well with his partner, who looked grateful and wagged his tail. Slightly embarrassed, Sam covered the fact with a wolfish grin, which showed the edges of his teeth far back in his jaw.

"Besides, if I know you, you've already got plans for this Lola, you rough-and-ready old hound."

Archer grinned in return, stood up and shook himself off. "Well, so far it's been a pretty fine day, what with us getting a meal from ultra-exclusive Cole's of San Francisco. Maybe it will prove an equally fine night. Destiny is a strange thing, isn't it, Sam?"

"I guess it is," Sam agreed. "I guess it is, Archer."

As he watched the older dog leave the shed, Sam felt uneasy. He had never been fond of Archer, but he didn't actively dislike him. Yet there was something about his partner's current mood that made him feel distinctly unsettled.

He hoped Archer wasn't planning on dumping Iva and running out on him. The thought of being left with two pregnant bitches on his paws was too much for Sam to even contemplate.

Sam decided to go back out into the alleyway and chew on the ruined slipper he'd found. There were times when a dog just had to be by himself to make sure his tail fit properly and his ears were on straight.

And this was one of those nights.

Story continued next week~

1:40 AM  

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