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Hot time in the ole town


The Woofers

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It’s another Saturday night in New Dog City.  A lot to report about last week’s party at the  Fireplug Club.  Talk about news!  Bobcat Wilson’s article last Sunday morning in the Canine Chronicle not only made the front page, it Was the front page story.  Here’s what happened….I mean as much as anybody Knows.  As reported last Sat. in this blog, there was an unprecedented crowd at the Club the previous week – mainly due to the popularity of the Triplets of Dogville babes and their smooth croons, dazzling outfits, and general attractive nature.  Dogs from miles around, as well as cats and a few reptiles crowded into the joint, ate, barked, panted, meowed, purred, drank, swayed and danced late into the night.

Last Saturday night, Max – the taciturn and often grouchy owner – actually had to turn animals away from the door after about 20 Swines showed up.  The Swines were on the run from Mexico because they were being blamed on a Flu outbreak, and their lives were being threatened.  After what had happened the wk before, the Fire Dogs (Dalmations, of course) barged in early, and made sure Max was sticking to regulations.  When the Triplets came out on stage a roar broke out in the crowd.  Lots of paw stamping and howling and yowling.  Then the Woofers – (See above – from Stage R to L:  Scratch (green suit), Whiskers Will, and Frannie ) trotted in, and the audience went even wilder.  A pack of wolves in the back of the room performed a special chorus of Howls and Yip Yip Yips.  Frannie, the drummer, did a solo drum riff to celebrate the wolves’ exhibition.

Max had listened to Bobcat Wilson’s advice, and hired a bartender, Stella the Chick from the Reputable Chicken House down by the river.  Not only did she mix up a mean Beef Juice Martini, she turned out to have a few creative tricks up her wing and invented a zippy fizz drink called the Catnip Ripper.  Even the dogs were checking it out, and growling approvals.

Well the joint was jumping until about ten thirty when suddenly the lights went out, and everything else in the place that was powered by electricity.  The Woofers’ electric guitars and speakers and the Triplets mikes went dead.   Nobody could figure out how it happened.  It was a clear calm night outside, and power was on in all the other buildings.

The Dalmations made a big deal about everyone leaving the Club for safety reasons.  Chaos ensued  – as you might imagine.  The 6 foot boas from the Everglades had returned for more swaying to the tunes and had brought three 15 foot friends, and  when they tried to slither out of the exits in the dark dogs kept tripping over them.  The cats got out first, and lightly danced and sang Triplet’s tunes through the streets on their way back to the Catacombs.   It was quite the scene.

There will not be a gig tonight because Max decided to take a break from all the hoopla, and take a short vacation to Muttopia.  A family of Skunkaroos who he is distantly related to , have invited him to stay for a few days.  He’s excited because they have a swimming pool.   The Swines asked if they could stay in the Fireplug Club when Max was away, and he said that was fine, as long as they did some carpentry work for him and didn’t poop on the floor.

Nobody has yet figured out what happened to the power last Saturday night.  The next day it mysteriously returned.

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A Studio Interview

In Anna Dibble's studio: Kimberly Wang of Eardog Productions
Studio shots, & Pepper, Radar and Theo

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Dogs, cats, and other animals as metaphors for our nonsensical human condition.
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All art images on this site are exclusively owned by Anna Dibble, and copyrighted. It is strictly against the law to use any of this art work digitally online or in reproduction.