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, August 24, 2007

...Sam Spencer is out making new friends. (Photo by Beth Javens)

posted by LuLu @ 10:54 PM 

2 Comments:

Blogger LuLu said...

The Maltese Chew Toy...continued

(Last week Sam Spencer managed to find the Gatthamer mansion and get onto the property. There he met a ferocious police dog and the two got into a fight. Thus does our tale continue....)

Sam's jaw went rigid and his eyes burned red as his coat. "All right," he growled, "let's get this thing over with. You know and I know that only one of us is going to wag our way out of here."

Murray cocked his head, stared hard at his adversary with his dark, intelligent eyes, and barked a laugh. "As my old pappy used to say: 'Es ist zu viel pfeffer.' It's too much pepper, son -- but you're some kind of spaniel!"

I have to be," said Sam, easing his stance but only slightly. "I'm a street dog, pal. You weaken once and you're dead meat."

"Sounds like an interesting life choice," Murray commented and licked his sore forepaw.

Sam shrugged. "It grows on you, kind of like the mange. By the way, just for the record, my name is Sam Spencer."

Murray nodded. "Just for the record, are you doing the terrier tango with Dollybelle?"

"Why?" asked Sam. "Are you her alpha male?"

Murray shook his head. "Nope, I'm not even in the running, but she's always been a good friend to me when I've needed one."

"She befriended me, too," Sam told him. "That's all there is to it. I'm here to see Brigid."

Murray blinked. "You do get around, don't you, son?"

"I do all right," Sam woofed smugly, "but Brigid's not on my current list of bitch bops, either. She's a client."

Murray lifted a back leg in order to scratch his head, then realized that his hip hurt where Spencer had jabbed him.

"Listen," he said, "how about we go up to the house, get some water, lick each other's wounds, and you can explain to me exactly what it is that you do."

Sam hesitated. Murray seemed sincere, but Sam was rarely comfortable with sincere. "Are you the only guard dog on the property?" he asked.

Murray grinned. "Just me, son. Thor left last week, and I was glad to see the back of him."

"Thor's dead," Sam barked bluntly.

Murray's jaw went slack. "Somebody managed to do Thor? I am impressed! How'd it happen?"

"He died from lead poisoning," Sam explained.

"Oh, I see."

The two dogs walked the short distance to the back porch of the Gatthamer mansion, and Sam helped himself to some water from Murray's bowl. A few minutes later, when they were stretched out in the shade, Sam told Murray about his life as a detective, about fogging rats, about Effie and Iva and his patch of earth on Post street. Finally he told him about Floyd Munsday's house and about losing his partner.

Murray was a good listener, and by the time he was finished, Sam realized that he'd told the big police dog more about himself than he'd ever told anyone -- with the possible exception of Effie.

For some reason this greatly disturbed him.

Story continued below...

12:56 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story continued...

"Thor was an ugly customer," Sam heard Murray say. "He was really into the business, which might be why he and Floyd got along so well. Floyd liked to think of himself as a tough guy."

"Floyd was the chauffeur, right?" Sam asked him.

Murray snorted. "He was much more than that, son. Floyd and Mrs. Gatthamer had a thing going. I figure she must come into season a lot, because she's got another two-footer sniffing after her as well. I've overheard the servants talking, and according to them, he's her stepson."

"I never can figure humans," Sam admitted. "Guess it's a good thing Bugsy's in a tight kennel like Alcatraz, though."

Murray nodded. "But your story about the shooting may explain a lot. Mrs. G. left here before sunup, taking only her suitcase and her dog with her."

Sam's brow furrowed. "She took off with Brigid?"

"No," said Murray, "with HER dog. That would be Cairo. He's a pug and a nice enough little chap. Brigid is Mr. Gatthamer's spoiled darling -- and she's gone missing."

Sam's brow creased again. "Brigid is missing? I thought it was her sister Lola who took a flea powder."

Murray stood up, shook himself off and licked his sore forepaw again. "Think I'll take a nice swim later," he said. "Nobody's here but one old servant, so no two-footers will be using the pool this afternoon."

"You actually like water?" Sam was amazed when Murray nodded.

"You didn't smell me coming until it was too late -- did you?" he asked, and Sam slowly wagged his tail; he'd just learned a valuable lesson.

He was about to learn another one.

"By the way, son," said Murray, "Brigid doesn't have a sister."

(Story continued next week...)

1:12 AM  

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