VILLAGE PET PAGES By Joy Pape and Brian Pape

The Story of Rupert & Lulu

By Erin Quinn Purcell

Rupert Pupkin and Lulu Bean both hail from the great state of Texas, arriving one year apart via a rescue group called Peyton’s Safe Haven. They’re Heelers born to herd, manage, supervise, and occasionally micromanage ─ and they take this responsibility very, very seriously.

We adopted Rupert first. His origin story reads like a country song: found on the side of a dusty road in the hot Texas sun with his littermates and no mama in sight. We picked him out online in early 2020, blissfully unaware that the world was about to hit the pause button. By the time we brought him home, everything had shut down. Rupert, therefore, is what you might call a “non-traditionally socialized” gentle-pup.

His early days featured empty streets, eerily quiet walks, and a shocking lack of dropped chicken bones because it was the pandemic and there was very little garbage on the streets to sniff and no people to carelessly litter. There were few dogs to greet, no houseguests to charm, and yet, against all odds, he grew into a confident, happy pup. A pandemic miracle, really.

At five months old, Rupert revealed his true talents: an Olympic-caliber vertical leap, a passion for dog parkour, and a need for speed. He was the fastest runner, the highest jumper, and the most dedicated skateboard chaser in the Leroy Street Dog Run.

At home, he devoted much of his time to trying ─ heroically, tirelessly, and unsuccessfully ─ to convince our two cats that they were, in fact, dogs who simply hadn’t realized it yet. The cats disagreed. Strongly. Rupert began to understand that he might benefit from a companion who spoke his language.

Enter Lulu
We found Lulu through the same rescue, but her story had a bit more wilderness in it. She had spent about five months living out in the world before being rescued, which meant that when she arrived in the big city, everything ─ from car noises to sidewalks ─ was brand new. In fact, her little paws had never even touched pavement before.

She was shy, cautious, and understandably overwhelmed. We found out later she even had a broken leg! But with Rupert as her enthusiastic (if slightly chaotic) big brother, she found her footing, literally and figuratively. He showed her the ropes, the sidewalks, and the proper way to patrol a living room for kids’ food scraps.

Lulu also revealed a quieter, more extraordinary talent: she knows when someone is hurting. Whether it’s a scraped knee, a tough day, or just a moment of sadness, Lulu appears almost instantly, pressing close, offering a steady, gentle presence. No training required — just instinct. She doesn’t herd in those moments; she heals, like the Heeler she is.

Today, Rupert and Lulu preside over their domain: a flock consisting of two adults, two kids, and two cats (still not dogs, according to the cats). They monitor all activity with unwavering dedication. No suspicious movement goes un-investigated. No hallway activity goes un-barked at. And when they’re off duty? They relax the only way they know how ─ by systematically destroying “indestructible” toys and dog beds, and stealing socks from their human brothers, Bruno and Dewey Bernstein (See the Characters article on page 10).

It’s a full life. A silly life. And a very well-managed life.