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 31, 2007

Tonight...Sam and Murray cross paths with a killer~(Photo by J.M. Hilton)

posted by LuLu @ 10:12 PM 

3 Comments:

Blogger LuLu said...

The Maltese Chew Toy (continued)

Last week Sam Spencer managed to gate crash his way onto the Gatthamer property, confront a guard dog named Murray, and discover that his client, the elusive Brigid, doesn't have a sister. The story picks up from there....

"Bitches!" Sam growled to Murray, "and dog dames are as bad as the rest. You can't trust them."

"Not all bitches are like that," Murray demurred. "It's my opinion that Brigid's in a class by herself. Dollybelle is true blue, though, and your Effie sounds like a peach."

Before Sam could reply, a natty Pierce-Arrow -- with a paint job as bright as a floozy's fingernail polish, zipped past and came to a screeching halt in front of the house.

Murray got to his paws. "It's Mrs. G.'s new fella," he said and winked, "the alleged stepson. Time to do my duty and let him know I'm standing guard."

Sam cut his eyes to the street, which was almost void of traffic. At the same time he clearly recalled Ricardo's description of the killer's car.

"Murray, don't bark," Sam cautioned. "Odds are, that's the trigger-happy gunsel who plugged Thor and Floyd."

"But I'm a guard dog," Murray protested.

"Better a live slacker than a dead hero," Sam told him. "Time to hit the boxwood hedges across the courtyard, pal."

Murray was about to protest again, when they heard the two-footer approaching the rear of the property.

"Let's amscray!" urged Sam, and they quickly ducked behind a hedge that had been shaped to resemble a machine gun.

"Kind of apt," Sam observed, "but I'd rather have it shaped like an elevator so we could rise above all this."

"I hate hiding behind the topiary," Murray muttered. "I'll have to do something if he tries to get into the house, Sam. Mr. Webley-Fosbery, our English butler, is all alone in there, and he's almost eighty."

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," said Sam in a low growl, as he watched the two-footer approach the small gate he'd managed to squeeze under earlier -- grip it with the strength of a gorilla, and give it a fearsome shake.

12:02 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story cont'd...

Fortunately the lock held.

"So far so good," thought Sam, and sniffed the air as a familiar scent began to tickle his nostrils. What was that odor? And where had he smelled it before? It teased at his memory like a bitch's lick, but he couldn't quite place it.

The two-footer was a beefy young male, who almost exactly matched Ricardo's description, including the part about his temper.

When he couldn't budge the gate, the two-footer moved off down the street to the garage, and tried both doors without success. Furious, he kicked hard at one of the doors, and Sam tensed when he saw him slip his hand inside the jacket pocket of his fashionable sack suit and withdraw a small but deadly looking handgun.

Just then a San Francisco police car cruised slowly past the Gatthamer mansion, and the two-footer froze in place -- his hands in his pocket, staring at the scenery.

The police car went around a corner, and the gunsel dashed to his car, got in, and roared off.

"Well," barked Murray. "That was a close one."

"He'll be back," said Sam. "He's looking for something he didn't find at Floyd's."

"I'll be careful," the big dog promised, as Sam studied a bush shaped to resemble a woman's leg.

"Floyd asked Mrs. G. to model for that one," Murray told him. "He was both chauffeur and gardener, you see."

"A two-footer of considerable talent, it would seem. Too bad he got blown away. Tell me, Murray, have you ever seen a small chew toy shaped like a bird around here?" he asked.

Story contiuned below...

12:50 AM  
Blogger LuLu said...

Story cont'd...

Murray thought for a moment. "Nope. Brigid and Cairo have plenty of goodies. Mrs. G. buys Cairo cartloads of toys, and Mr. G. used to spoil Brigid with all sorts of fancy stuff: expensive kidskin leashes, rhinestone collars, silk rain hats. You bark it! But I've never seen a toy shaped like a bird.

He paused.

"Then again, I'm an outside dog. The butler lets me sleep in the second kitchen, but only on bad nights. I've never even seen the fancy living quarters inside the house."

Sam's brow furrowed into the shape of the letter V. "Did the same thing apply to Thor? Was he an outside dog as well?"

Murray nodded. "Guard dogs don't get much pampering, son, and our butler is so old he occasionally forgets about me altogether -- which is why I always jump the fence and head for Dollybelle's on my off time."

"At least you get off time," said Sam. "Can you really jump that high fence?"

The big dog wagged his tail. "I'm buff, son."

"And you'd make a terrific partner," thought Sam, although he didn't say so aloud.

Story continued next week.

1:27 AM  

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